Thanks to everyone who reviewed and waited patiently. Sorry this took so long, I was out of a computer for a week and out of town for another. I was going to make this chapter a little longer, but I figure it's long enough as it is, and it's been a while since I updated. So, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Nerys! She messaged me and kept asking me about this update, real good motivator she is. Also, special thanks to Armani Fan who gave me the idea for Voldemort visiting Hermione's parents.


"Hermione, you didn't bring new clothes?"

The brunette shook her head. "I didn't have time to go home. I was only at headquarters for dinner, and then I came here."

Hermione wasn't really paying attention to him as she was immersed in a book she had picked up from his library.

"I want you to get a dress."
That made Hermione break her attention away from her precious book.

"What for?"

"Oh, I don't know," he said with a frown on his face, "for wearing, maybe?" He rolled his eyes.

"You know that's not what I meant," Hermione said solemnly.

"For going out to dinner and whatnot," he said from the armchair he was sitting in, "but I am assuming you don't have a dress, since every time you've required one, you've had to buy one. That is why you should go to your parents' house today. You haven't seen them in a while, haven't you?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Why are you trying to get me out of the house?"

"Aww . . . you like it so much here that you don't want to go back to your flat? How touching. I'll make sure to tell Harry next time I see him." Voldemort smiled and went back to writing on his sheet of parchment.

"You know that's not what I meant," Hermione said condescendingly, "and stop turning my sentences around. There is no reason why you would want me to go to my parents house just because; so you must be planning on doing something here you don't want me to be present for."

"I am planning on doing something, I am planning on making you go to your mother to get a dress," he responded while looking up from his writing and setting the quill down.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Are the Malfoys throwing a party or something? You don't strike me as the type to be hosting parties all year round."

"Valentine's day is coming up."

Hermione grinned like the Cheshire cat and brought her legs up to her chest. "Aww . . . so you're going to have a little Valentine's day Death Eater comraderie event? How touching." She sneered at the end much like he did every time he repeated those two words.

"Haha," he mocked and then rolled his eyes. "No, but maybe I want to do something with you for Valentine's day. Something which would require you to look nice."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She kept quiet and studied him to see if he was mocking. "You honestly expect me to believe you would do something that thoughtful?"

Tom looked taken back, he placed his hand on his chest as his serpentine features contorted into an expression of aghast.

"Hermione, you insult me! Gallantry is my other name."

"Yes," she muttered with a smirk, "along with hypocrisy." She went back to reading her book.

He chuckled. "Oh, Hermione, you truly are a delight."

Hermione smiled at that.

"But, in honesty's name, I really do need you to go buy a nice dress. Your current attire would be unsuitable for the place I have planned."

Hermione folded her book and put her legs down on the rug while leaning her forearms onto her thighs. "You really are serious about this?"

"Of course," he said smoothly.

"Well, you do remember that I'm engaged, right?" Hermione went on slowly, "so I will have to spend Valentine's day with my fiancé."

"Okay," he said in a perk tone, "well then, why don't you go to your parents to buy a nice dress with your mother and then hop over to Ronald's place and break it off with him." He shrugged both shoulders. "Kill two birds with one stone."

"Tom," Hermione said in between her sigh. She shook her head slightly. "I only just accepted my feelings for you. I can't go now and break it off with my fiancé: it's too soon, and I'm not sure about it, anyway."

Hermione felt that he wanted to push her more about it. She knew that his ego would be doing angry somersaults at her last statement, but she hoped he didn't press her about it. It was a very delicate and complicated situation after all, one which she'd only recently accepted and wasn't about to complicate further by having to choose between Ron or Him.

Thankfully, he remained quiet. Hermione heard him inhale as if to calm himself and then stand up. Hermione looked up as he came over her.

"Make sure you're back by dinner and don't buy any loose dresses. Something form-fitting like that silver dress you wore at my birthday party is what you should be looking for. So go, chop chop!"

Without waiting to see her even get up to leave, he whirled around in a flurry of robes and sat back down in his armchair. His serpentine face half hidden by the book he was reading. Hermione didn't move from her seat: she didn't like being bossed around by him.

He looked up, red eyes narrowing over his book. "Do you need me to help you to the door?"

Hermione put the book down and rolled her eyes. "Ugh . . . you are so infuriating sometimes."

"Oh, you're welcome, no need to be so grateful. I know how much you miss your parents." He flipped a page, eyes firmly on his reading.

Hermione rolled her eyes once more before leaving the library.


Which is when Voldemort's eyes snapped up over his book which he set down on the marble-top side table.

"Deepti."

A few seconds later, a house elf appeared next to the Dark Lord's armchair. Out of the corner of his eye, Voldemort saw her come up from her vow. "Master?"

"Let me know when Ms. Granger leaves the premises."

"Yes, my lord." The house elf bowed once more and disappeared.

The Dark Lord sighed loudly and settled back into his reading, he hoped she wouldn't take so long. Fifteen minutes later, the elf came back.

"Missus just flooed away."

"Send Epi in."

Hermione's elf bowed and disappeared once more. Voldemort took his wand from the side table and pointed it at the fireplace. "Morsmordre vocare." The fireplace turned green and the flames began swirling around a dark circle. "Draco!"

As soon as he said this, the portal was closed and the fire returned to its normal appearance. Voldemort turned to set his wand down on the table; he heard his personal elf appearing at that moment.

"Master?"

"Fix me a scotch."

"Right away, master." The house elf scuttled back to the bar while the Dark Lord returned to his reading with a sigh.

A few seconds passed, the only sounds coming from the corner bar where the elf was busy preparing his master's drink. Voldemort shifted in his seat and rested his elbow on the arm of the armchair while resting his chin on his spread out thumb, his ring finger running up alongside his profile to his pale, thin eyebrows. Voldemort's eyes flickered up towards the elf who was coming towards him with the fixed drink. He took his head off its resting place in his hand and reached out for the small glass just as there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called out while swirling his drink. His eyes remained fixed on the bobbing ice cubes amidst the amber liquid in the cool glass. He waited until he saw Malfoy and his redhead out of the corner of his eye to take his first gulp. The usual burn erupted in his insides and a searing heat settled in his chest; however, through years of practice, this pleasing discomfort was unnoticed in the cold, expressionless mask of his facial emotions.

He set the glass down on the coaster, and he made sure to not acknowledge the increasingly tense couple. Their fidgeting warmed his insides even more than the scotch.

"My lord, we are sorry if we kept you waiting," Draco ventured to say.

"Sit."

Oh, the brief, but foreboding look the two shared . . . delicious. Voldemort smiled slightly and decided his cold shoulder treatment had run its course. He watched them as they sat down on the sofa. Ginny looked up at him and, unaware that he was watching them, inadvertently met his eyes. He smirked when she rapidly averted them again.

"Hello Ginevra."

She bowed her head a few inches before glancing at Draco for support. "My lord."

"How are you?"

"Well," Ginny replied quickly, "you?"

"Good. . . good." He smirked while looking down at his glass. "Would you like a drink?"

"No, thank you, my lord," Draco murmured.

Voldemort smirked again. "Two scotch," he called out to the elf at the corner. He turned back to the couple and smiled with closed lips. "The picture doesn't work if I'm the only one with a drink."

Draco murmured his thanks and an uncomfortable silence (for the couple) settled over the room where once more the only sounds came from the elf at the corner. Voldemort smiled inwardly, he could see Draco writhing with anticipation and worry. His calm and unresponsive demeanor was clearly unnerving the boy.

"So, my lord –"

The Dark Lord didn't even allow Malfoy to finish his sentence before taking his wand off the table and directing it at him.

"Crucio!"

The look on the redhead's face as her boyfriend writhed on the floor was utterly delicious. He could tell she wanted to tell him to stop, but feared the consequences if she did. He wouldn't stop though, it served her right for having snooped around him and Hermione – even though no harm had come from it.

"Hasn't your father taught you you are to only speak when spoken to?" the Dark Lord murmured in a calm; almost caring voice. "Especially when it comes to me?"

"My lord, please forgive me," Draco said trying to keep the shakiness out of his voice as he got off the floor and back in the sofa next to Ginny with as much dignity as he could muster. The redhead grabbed his arm and squeezed it while giving Draco a worried look.

"Well, since you two are obviously incapable of going one full minute without touching each other, I'll get to my point." Voldemort purposely paused and made it seem as though he was taking a breath; as He expected, Draco jumped in right after him.

"My lord, I'm sorry if we gave you that impression." Voldemort gave an inward smile when Draco shook off his girlfriend's hand and actually made a quarter turn away from her so that he was facing the Dark Lord and giving Ginny his back. "Please take your time."

"Well, actually it's more Ms. Weasley I wish to speak with." Ginny, who had previously been glaring daggers at her boyfriend's back, widened her eyes and snapped them on the Dark Lord.

"What where you doing upstairs?"

Ginny opened her mouth and closed it before opening it again. "I . . . was sent there by my family, they wanted to make sure Hermione was alright."

Voldemort gave a nod and rested his elbow on the arm of the chair while bringing his outstretched ring finger over his lips in a pensively reserved gesture. "You haven't told anyone."

"No. " Ginny shook her head while she said it.

"Good." Voldemort brought his hand down so that it draped over the arm of the armchair. "Since you are the only that knows, if it were to ever come out without my intending it, I would automatically assume that it was your doing. In that case, your boyfriend as well as yourself would suffer greatly, is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord," they said quietly.

"Draco, go wait outside while I have one final word with Ms. Weasley."

The youngest Malfoy was worried; he glanced at his girlfriend while standing up and stretching his hand to place it on her shoulder reassuringly. However, the Weasley girl turned her shoulder away without even looking at him.

"I'll be fine, Draco," she said coldly.

Voldemort inwardly chuckled . . . looks like trouble in paradise – oh how easily manipulated people in love were, it was truly delightful. The Dark Lord basked in thought until Malfoy finished exiting and the door had shut behind him. He didn't start right after that though; he allowed the silence to reign in the room for a few tense seconds as he surveyed the redhead. She was afraid, but was trying hard to not show it by sitting ramrod straight. At that moment, the Dark Lord was reminded of Narcissa, and he wondered if Ginny would turn out like her or if, with a little more coaxing from himself and Malfoy, she might want to join the Death Eaters.

"Why so tense, Ginevra?" he finally asked.

The redhead swallowed and her face broke into an apologetic but forced smile. "I'm sorry, but it's the first time I'm meeting you like this."

He grunted. "True, but if you and Draco are as serious as I think you are, you'd better start acclimating to me."

Ginny nodded her approval.

"You might want to start by addressing me proper."

He smirked at the tightening of her jaw, the girl's refusal to address him as 'my lord' was the first wall of resistance that needed to be tackled.

"With all due respect, I am not your follower," she said somewhat curtly. Voldemort would've punished her for it, but since she was of the opposite side, the vow was in place.

"No, but Draco is," the Dark Lord countered; he didn't think he needed to say more, she was a smart girl: she'd understand the underlying threat.

Ginny swallowed and clasped her hands on her lap to steady them from their shaking.

"All in due time, however . . ." the Dark Lord said, "as of now, we have enough to tackle. Have you told Hermione?"

"No, of course not," Ginny said.

"Didn't think you would, great, let's keep it that way," he said with a teethy smile, "until I tell you otherwise."

Ginny nodded stiffly, her eyes on the Persian carpet under their feet.

"Is there something else on your mind?"

"Well, do you know if Hermione plans on breaking up with my brother?" Ginny said meekly.

"She's never mentioned it," he said in a soft voice, "although I did, but she never gave me a straight answer. I think she wants him to find out, because she has no intention of breaking it off with me." He sighed silently. "However, Ronald isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, and so he's not going to be figuring it out anytime soon," he finished with an earnest shrug before widening his eyes slightly and adding, "her words, of course."

Ginny frowned slightly and looked down at her hands. Voldemort knew he didn't have as good a chance of manipulating the redhead as everyone else since she had gotten to know him quite well in her first year. However, she was weak at the moment, her respect and image of Hermione had wavered after walking in on them; so it was likely that she would be more receptive to his manipulations.

"She just doesn't want to look bad in front of all her friends," he went on, "and revealing her affair with me would put a damper on that just a little," he said quietly. "Why do you think she got so defensive when that article in The Prophet came out along with the picture? Of course, that could also be a natural reaction to clear her image from a false acccusation, but if that had been the case, don't you think she would've given an interview or sent a letter or something to The Prophet? She didn't deny it though . . . mainly because, as Dumbledore advised her, that would only lead to more digging, and then there was the chance that the truth might be exposed."

"Wait . . ." Ginny looked up for the first time, "Dumbledore knows?"

"Of course," Voldemort said quickly before pausing and biting his bottom lip before parting them with a smacking tone. His eyes went on hers while he leaned forward. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but he's the one that told her not to break it off with your brother. Dumbledore knew that if she did, it would validate the article and the rumors, which would lead to investigating and the discovery of his pet project: the alliance. Hermione felt awful at using your brother like that, of course, but it was a sacrifice that had to be made," he finished gently, hands clasped,"for the Alliance."

"Oh," Ginny said somewhat shakily, only this time she wasn't shaking from fear as much as anger.

"Oh well, I've told you enough for someone that hasn't even pledged themselves to me. Run along now and remember to keep it silent on the front."

Ginny nodded while standing up and bowing her head slightly. "I will, thank you."

"Thank you what?"

Ginny colored and swallowed. "Thank you very much," she said.

He smirked and chuckled. "Good strategy . . . just for that I'll look it over this time, but next time I will expect you to address me as the future Malfoy you'll be would."

"Thank you," Ginny said once more before turning around and walking out the room.


As soon as she got home, Hermione realized just how much she had missed her parents. With everything that had been going on, she had almost forgotten them, but now, being with them at an ice cream parlor close to her home, she realized just how much she had been missing them. Originally, her parents had wanted to go to Florean Fortescue's Parlor, but Hermione had quickly shot down this idea. She couldn't be seen in Diagon Alley, the flurry that it would cause would be tremendous after the article in The Prophet, and she wanted to keep her parents in the dark as much as possible.

"So, how's everything? Are you getting busy? You haven't been seeing us as much," her father said.

Hermione shrugged and smiled apologetically. "Everything is fine, we are working on a project, and I have kind of an important role in the mission; so it's been taking up almost all my time."

"Can you talk about it?" her mother asked.

"No," Hermione said quickly. "It's highly classified."

"Oh." Her mother looked taken back, and her father was silent while he looked away at another table.

"I still don't get why you are fighting this war," he finally said.

"What do you mean?" Hermione said while lowering her voice. "We have to fight Voldemort and the dark side, we can't let them take over."

"No, they have to fight this Voldemort person, not you. It's their world, they were born into it, you weren't."

"I have become as much a part of it as them," Hermione said defensively.

"That may be so, but you'll always be an outsider. You were allowed to go to this school of theirs, you were allowed to join their world . . . you were granted a privilege, not a right. So, I honestly, don't know why you're risking your life and wasting your years fighting a war for a world you don't even belong in."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and sat back in her seat. "That is so not true, my home is with them. I have been in that world since I was 11! It's become my home, and they accept me as one of theirs. I'll always belong to the Muggle world as well, but the Wizarding world is my legitimate home."

"Well, it's . . ." her father sighed. "You know what, whatever, I don't see you enough to fight with you."

An uncomfortable silence followed during which Hermione tried to patch up the old wound her father had opened up: the wound of not belonging.

"So, how's Ron?" her mother asked trying to sound amicable.

"He's fine," Hermione said offhandedly. Her already soured mood was made even worse at the memory of her fiancé.

"When are we going to see you two? You should come over for dinner during the weekend."

"I don't know if I'll be free, mom," Hermione said, "I will have to get back to you."

"Oh, sure," Jean said quietly as once more an uncomfortable silence settled over them. Hermione was feeling angry at her father, but at the same time, she felt bad that the few hours she had with them were being wasted on an argument.

"So, mom, I need another dress, and since last time your picked out such a nice one for me, I wanted to know if you would help me pick out another one," Hermione said with a small smile.

Jean smiled. "Of course, hun, why do you need another dress, though? How many parties are you going to?"

"It's . . . part of the mission," Hermione said slowly, she didn't know how much to tell them. "It's kind of a diplomatic mission, and so I have to go to cocktail parties and reunions and things."

"The Order should be reimbursing you in that case," Hugo said, "you've bought more clothes these past few weeks than in your entire childhood."

"It's part of my mission," Hermione said, "I don't mind. Besides, I needed nice clothes, anyway now that I am no longer in school."

"We'll of course you don't mind, it's your mother paying after all."

"Hugo!" Jean snapped while hitting her husband on the arm.

"If it's the money that's the problem I can reimburse you," Hermione said brusquely. "Just make me an invoice, and I'll make monthly payments."

"Hermione, of course not, don't mind your father," Jean said while sending a glare at her moody husband.

"Dad, why are you being like this?" Hermione asked as she looked at her father whose eyes were on his cup of coffee. Hugo raised his hands, palms spread while shaking his head.

"It just bothers me that you're fighting this war that you shouldn't even be involved in and are sacrificing your life and your career for a world which views you as an outsider."

"They don't view me as an outsider," Hermione countered, eyes narrowed.

"Oh no? Then what's this war about? Isn't it to prevent Voldemort from killing everyone that's not pureblood?"

"But they're a small group," Hemione said, her voice faltering slightly, "everyone else doesn't believe that, and besides He doesn't want to kill everyone that's not pureblood, that's too extreme. He just wants to prevent more muggleborns from coming in."

Hermione didn't know why but by the end of her speech, she was flushed in the face and warm in the cheeks.

"Hermione, are you alright?" her mother asked.

"Yes, I'm sorry I'm just a little mad that's all," Hermione lied.

"Did you just make excuses for your enemy?"

Hermione frowned at her father's accusatory statement; she cursed as she felt her face warming up even more.

"What?"

"You were making excuses for Voldemort."

"No, I wasn't, I was simply correcting your statement because you know how much I hate being around misinformed people without correcting them." Hermione crossed her arms as she said this, for some reason it helped her focus and bring her racing heart under control. They were in really hot waters; she needed to get out now. "But dad, like you said before, we don't see each other enough to argue. Let's talk about something else."

"Yes, that's a great idea, Hugo," Jean told her husband before turning back to her daughter. "So, do you know what type of dress you need?"

"I was thinking a cocktail dress, nothing fancy. I don't know about colors though," Hermione said. She figured she could wear this dress when she and Ron went out as well. She almost snorted aloud at this – two dates on Valentine's day, no one would believe her if she told them. One of which happens to be your fiancé who you are two-timing . . . . Hermione swallowed silently and literally shook her head to clear that memory from her mind. She did not need her conscience stepping in right now.

"Okay, well, why don't you two go and buy the dress?" Hugo said, "I'll go home and make dinner. You are staying, right, Hermione?"

"No, I actually have to go back to the Order –"

"Oh come on, honey, I'm sure Dumbledore will understand, you haven't seen us in weeks."

It's not Dumbledore understanding I'm worried about, Hermione thought with a snort. "Well, could we do dinner a little early?"

"Five?"

"How about four?"

Hugo nodded. "Fine, but you better get going then, because it's already almost two."

"It won't take us that long to get a dress," Jean said while grabbing her bag and standing up, "we'll go back to that store we got the silver dress from."

"Oh,mom, no,"Hermione said quickly, "that place is way too expensive . . . ."

"But the dress was beautiful and will be with you for many years to come," Jean countered with a smile.

Hermione sighed and nodded. "Thanks, mom."

With that, the women said 'good-bye' to Hugo and left the café.


Bellatrix frowned when she came upon her lord's quarters and found Nagini coiled up in front of the door. The witch eyed the snake warily while keeping her distance, Nagini's eyes were fixed on hers while her body coiled and uncoiled itself continuously. Bellatrix took a step towards the door only to notice the snake coiling itself up even tighter and raising her head while sticking her tongue out and letting out a low hiss.

"I have to see him, snake," Bellatrix snarled. She stepped forward again with more confidence and was about to extend her arm to knock, when Nagini uncoiled herself and raised her long body until she was standing a good three feet over Bellatrix. She hissed louder this time, causing the Death Eater to step back in shock. "You fucking –"

Biting her lip, Bellatrix stomped away from the door and went to stand against the wall. "Epi!"

A few seconds later, her master's personal elf appeared.

"Ms. Bellatrix?"

"Why is that wretched animal there?" Bellatrix spat.

"The Dark Lord does not wish to be disturbed," Epi said quietly, "he is with someone."

The bells in Bellatrix's head went off. "With someone? What do you mean he's with someone? Who is it?"

"I cannot say for I do not know."

"Is it a man or a woman?"

"Man."

Bellatrix deflated after that. "Oh, alright . . . do you know how much longer he'll be in this meeting?"

"If you wish to wait in the library or music room, I will let you know as soon as the master is free."

Bellatrix wrinkled her nose at the elf, it was too bold for her taste. However, he was her master's elf, and so Bellatrix figured he would have to be more intelligent and dignified than the rest of his breed.

"I will wait here," she said briefly. She crossed her arms and turned away from the elf while glaring at the snake guarding her master.

"Would you like something to drink?" the house elf asked.

"No."

"Very well."

With a crack, the house elf disappeared. Bellatrix sniffed at its impudence, she would've cursed it, but it got away too fast. The witch leaned back against the wall and fixed her gaze on the door, it would've been far more comfortable for her to have followed the elf's suggestion of waiting elsewhere; however, she wanted, no, needed, to know who her master was talking to that required so much privacy. Bellatrix figured she would catch a glimpse of him as he left.

Before long, the minutes turned into hours.

Bellatrix, two hours later, was now sitting on the floor, her back against the wall with her legs propped up. A lit cigarette dangled off her right hand, which dangled over her right knee. Just as she was finishing taking a drag, she saw the doorknob being turned. Bellatrix hastily stood up and straightened herself as Nagini slithered away and to the side. The door was opened and a cloaked figure came out. For the few seconds that the man was facing her as he came out, Bellatrix was able to make out his prominent chin, thin lips and the tip of a straight nose. Everything else was in shadows, mainly because of his hooded cloak. Bellatrix watched the figure veer right, the cloak billowing behind him.

"Bellatrix, what have I told you about smoking in my house?"

Bellatrix turned her head towards her lord's voice. He had previously been standing in front of the door, but he was now coming towards her rather rapidly. Bellatrix felt a rush as she began hoping he would throw her against the wall and take her right in that corridor. The witch's breath caught when her lord's hand extended out towards her arm. Could it be her fantasy would come true? Just when Bellatrix was raising her other hand towards him, the Dark Lord's hand landed on her shoulder and pushed her away. Bellatrix stumbled slightly as she watched him squat down in the spot she had been standing in and run his hand over the carpet, a deep frown on his face. "You better thank Merlin you didn't ash on my carpet," he muttered darkly while straightening up.

Dejected, and a tad frustrated, Bellatrix responded, "I have a portable ashtray."

"Give me." He held out his hand.

Bellatrix frowned slightly. He wanted to smoke? She took her pack of cigarettes from her pocket . . .

"No, Bella, give me yours."

The witch hastily did so, would he take a drag? Would he put his heavenly lips on it? Oh she would treasure that cigarette bud forever!

As soon as the almost consumed cigarette had switched hands, Bellatrix was taken off-guard by his Cruciatus. She fell on the ground, but remained largely unmoving, years of practice had toughened her up to the curse. Her nails however, did dig into her palms so as to prevent her arms from flailing out in a miserable spectacle. Then it was over, breathing heavy, she stood up and bowed. "My lord, I am sorry for having displeased you."

He handed her back the cigarette bud. "Dispose of it." He snarled and whirled back in his office. Bellatrix did as she was told before following him into his lair.

"What is it you need?" he called out before sitting down behind his desk and leaning back in the chair, hands on his lap.

"I just wanted to check up with you, you haven't called me to report in a while," Bellatrix began slowly.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, there's no need. If Dumbledore was stepping out of the boundaries of the vow, and you found out, you would let me know. I'm not going to take time out of my busy day to call you over and ask how your day was."

Bellatrix was hurt by his statement; however, she didn't show it. Her lord seemed to be rather vindictive towards her, and for Bellatrix, that was completely unacceptable.

"My lord, have I upset you?"

"Oh please, Bellatrix, stop thinking so highly of yourself. My anger is set aside for pressing matters." He finished with a growl while looking down at the papers on his desk and organizing them into a stack.

Bellatrix's breathing sped up, and her heart started to ache. He was being so hurtful . . . there must only be one explanation for it. "Is it because of Granger?"

His hands froze in their shuffling of the papers. He looked up.

"What?"

Bellatrix knew she was on thin ice by his tone, but she didn't care. What more could he do to her than what he was currently doing?

"Did you leave me so you could be with her?"

His expression was unchanged for a few seconds, but then, his lips curled up slightly, and he looked away with a humorous sniff while shaking his head and chuckling.

"Oh, Bellatrix . . . what am I going to do with you?" He looked at her and then pushed his chair back, scraping over his precious Persian carpet as he did so. He went around the desk and towards her, his previously amused countenance gone. "I can't torture you because of that pesky masochistic streak in you . . . but you have been getting so bold and insubordinate that I am regretting ever having stepped up our relationship from master- servant. You are a complete and utter disappointment, Bella." Her pet name rolled of his tongue with mock endearment.

"My lord, please, I am just concerned for you," Bellatrix said in broken tones, she hated how vulnerable and emotional she got around him. "The Mudblood could take advantage of you, she could be -"

"Taking advantage of me?" the Dark Lord interrupted while crossing his arms, "do you think me that incompetent?"

"No! Of course not, forgive me, my lord, but I worry," Bellatrix said shrilly.

"Well, you shouldn't," he snapped, "because last I recall, I never asked you to!"

"My lord, how can you go on treating me like any other Death Eater when you know my feelings towards you –"

"I told you to get rid of those feelings," he interrupted, his glance hard, "now, if I overestimated you, and you turned out to be too weak to do even that, then I suggest you hide those feelings and keep them out of our professional relationship."

Bellatrix looked down at her arms, which she had wrapped around her shaking body. "Yes, my lord, yes."

There was a brief silence which was broken by the Dark Lord stepping towards her. "Bella, I mean it. This will be the last time I will discuss anything not related to our professional relationship, and if you don't think you can deal with having a purely business relationship with me, then tell me now so we can sever our ties."

"No, my lord, I can do it, of course I can do it," the woman said vehemently, her fervor coming back to her.

The Dark Lord nodded. "Good, then you're dismissed."

He turned away from her and towards the door leading to his bedroom. Bellatrix nodded briefly and meandered over to the fireplace with a distraught gait.


"Oh, I wonder who that could be?"

Jean set her napkin down on the table and pushed her chair back, Hermione watched as she walked out of the dining room and towards the foyer. She looked back down at her half-eaten filet mignon and took a few stabs at it, she wasn't that hungry. She and her father were still on awkward terms. Hermione glanced up at her father to see his expression; however, Hugo seemed bent on keeping to himself. With an inward sigh, Hermione scooped up some mashed potatoes with her fork and started chewing on them.

"Hermione?" Jean stood at the doorway, hands clasped on her front. "There's a man outside by the name of Oscar; he says he was sent here by Dumbledore to pick you up."

Hermione frowned. Oscar? Voldemort was the only one who knew she was at her parents.

"What did he look like?" she asked cautiously.

"Tall, handsome, black hair and brown eyes."

Fuck. Hermione set her fork down. What the hell is he doing here? Oh this can't be good . . . .

"Hermione, everything alright?" Hugo asked breaking his silence.

"Yeah, it's fine, I just didn't know he was coming," Hermione said.

"Okay, well, he's waiting outside . . . ."

Yeah, right, Hermione thought with a snort. His highness wait outside? Maybe until her mother turned around. When Hermione got to the foyer, she was surprised to not see him there. Could he truly have respected her mother's wishes and waited outside? Just when she was about to open the door, she heard cabinets being opened to her right. Hermione went across the family room and into the kitchen from where the noises were coming.

"What are you doing here, Oscar?" Hermione crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe..

The Dark Lord had the cabinet door open; so she couldn't see him upwards of his shoulders.

"Trying to get a drink of water. Where do you keep the glasses?" He shut the cabinet door and turned to her.

"The one next to that one," Hermione said with a sigh, "you couldn't wait until I came to get you?"

"No, I'm thirsty," he replied brusquely while rolling his eyes and filling his glass with water from the dispenser.

"Why are you here?" Hermione asked again.

"To pick you up, didn't your mother tell you?" he said, once he was done drinking from the glass.

"Well, we are halfway through dinner. I can't really leave that brusquely," Hermione said, "I told you I would come back early, and it's only ten past 5. I'll be back by 5:40 or six, okay?"

He glanced at her silently for a few seconds. "What are you having?"

"Just filet mignon with steamed spinach," Hermione said with a shrug, "like I said we're almost through. I won't be long."

"Fine," he said as he came closer to her. "We'll stay." He placed his arm around her waist and made her walk with him towards the kitchen exit.

"Tom, what are you doing?" she hissed while unlooping his arm from around her waist and stopping their walk. "You can't stay!"

"First off, Oscar is the name, and second, can't I get to know my future in-laws?"

Hermione swiped him on the chest and shushed him. "Stop it!"

"Oh come on, Hermione, lighten up . . . ." He pulled her towards him and gave her a brief, but somewhat loud kiss. Hermione broke away quickly.

"Tom . . . ." She hated how good it had felt, not just the kiss itself, but the rush she had gotten out of kissing in the kitchen where her parents could walk in on them at any moment. It was that forbidden quality of the Dark Lord that attracted her more than she would've wanted.

"We'll stay for a little while . . . and then go back home so I can do all the horrible things I've been planning on doing to you," he muttered while kissing her neck. Hermione smiled and felt a thrill at his words. She looked around to make sure no one was around or on their way, before pulling away from him.

"Fine," Hermione hissed with a smirk. "Oscar." She grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards her in a bruising kiss. She smiled fleetingly when she felt him stumble due to her rough and unexpected handling. "What? I'm not getting to be too much for you, am I?" Hermione muttered with a smirk after breaking off the kiss abruptly.

He chuckled, his face millimeters away from hers. "You wish."

Hermione closed her eyes when their lips became engaged once more and decided to give their kiss her undivided attention. He seemed to be thinking along the same lines, and before long, they were both in a lip-lock so tight and eager, that it took them a second holler from Hermione's mother to disentangle themselves. Hermione cursed and jumped off the counter Voldemort had placed her on.

"Hermione?"

"Mom," Hermione said as she rushed into the foyer trying to not look out of breath, "I'm sorry, I was helping Oscar get a drink in the kitchen."

Jean nodded. "Oh, okay, well, why doesn't he stay for dinner? You two don't have a meeting tonight, right?"

"No, actually he's busy. He's meeting with Dumble –"

"Was meeting with Dumbledore, actually."

Hermione turned in her heel and glared at an approaching Tom. Damn. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she felt she was pushing the envelope by having him dine with her and her parents.

"I'm afraid he cancelled on me which is why he sent me out to get you instead."

One dazzling smile was sent down to a tightlipped Hermione.

"Oh well, would you like to stay for dinner?" Jean asked with a smile.

"I would love to if it's not too much trouble," Oscar replied in a sheepish voice Hermione had never imagined him possessing.

"Oh no, not at all," Jean replied with a smile and ushered them into the dining room. "Hugo, this is Oscar, Hermione's fellow Order member; he's going to be joining us tonight."

Hermione's father nodded at 'Oscar' in greeting. "Nice to meet you, Oscar."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Granger. I've been wanting to meet you for a while, I must admit. Hermione always speaks of you and Mrs. Granger." Hermione sat back down in her seat without glancing at Tom who took the seat next to her.

Her father chuckled. "Good things I hope?"

"Very, and if that ever changed I would make sure to let you know."

Hugo and Tom laughed at that. Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep a smirk from coming over her face. Almost immediately, Jean came back with the Dark Lord's plate after which they all once more resumed their dinner. Hermione stayed quiet for almost the entire time, the only time she spoke up was when she and Tom were asked about the current state of affairs in the Wizarding world and their positions within the Order. Apparently, Oscar worked in the Minister's cabinet and was an informant for Dumbledore. Hermione tried hard to keep from bursting out loud in laughter or even twisting her lips into a smile as she heard him describe with absolute conviction and naturalness, the life he had created for Oscar. Her parents were, of course, enthralled by him. Like moths to a light bulb, Hermione decided as she watched her mother laughing, and her father giving Him his undivided attention. Once they were done, 'Oscar' couldn't have helped Jean pick up the dishes from the table fast enough, and even though Jean begged him to stay seated multiple times, he adamantly refused each offer. Once the two had gone in the kitchen, things were very awkward between Hermione and her father once more.

"You've been very quiet," Hugo said silently.

"Well, you all were engaged in conversation. I didn't want to interrupt," Hermione said with a warm smile.

"You don't like him?" Hugo went on soberly, "you seemed very uncomfortable this entire time."

"No, of course not, Oscar is great," Hermione said quickly, "it's just he has accomplished so much that it makes me feel a little self-conscious when I'm around him."

Her father smiled. "Well, he's older than you and more well-connected. He's a good one to keep as a friend, though . . . what does Ron think of him?"

"He likes him," Hermione said simply, "they're not really friends, but they're amicable."

Hugo nodded. "Good," he muttered. "You always want to have people with connections as friends, you never know how he could help you or Ron out."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah . . . ." She trailed off when she heard her mother and Tom coming back in with dessert, and instead, her dialogue became internal. At the mention of Ron, her conscience was kicked back into gear and a million guilty thoughts crossed her mind. However, one of them stood out to her. What if her parents mentioned to Ron that an Order member by the name of Oscar had dined with them? Ron would immediately throw the lid open on that Pandora's box, and from there one would only need a quarter of a brain to figure out the rest of the trail leading to her great secret. Looking up from her slice of warm chocolate lava cake, Hermione looked at her parents and mentally wrote herself a reminder to tell them to not let Ron know about Oscar.


Ginny was still a bite sore at Draco for his behavior in the Dark Lord's office. Even though it was pretty understandable, she still thought that turning his back to her had been a bit much. However, Ginny's anger was too focused on other subjects to bother with Draco's slight faux pas.

"What else did he say?" Malfoy asked, they were standing in the middle of a sitting room at Malfoy Manor.

"He just made sure I wouldn't tell anyone about him and Hermione," she said offhandedly. She still hadn't decided whether she should share the rest of the conversation with him.

"What about your brother? Did he say if she was going to break it off with him?"

"He wants her to," Ginny said looking up at him, "but I think she still has doubts . . . ."

"Well, yeah," Draco said sarcastically while running his hand over his helmet of hair.

Ginny sighed and flopped down on the sofa. "I don't know what to do, I mean how am I supposed to look my brother in the eyes each morning? How am I supposed to live under the same roof as her? How am I even supposed to sleep in my room again?"

Draco shushed her silently, Ginny moaned and hid her face in her hands. "Why did I have to walk in on them? Why? Why?" she moaned.

"What's done is done," Draco said sitting down next to her, "no use moaning about it." Ginny squeezed his hand and they sat there for a few seconds in silence. "Do you think she'll marry him?" Draco asked suddenly.

"I . . ." Ginny frowned, mouth agape and lost for words. At first, she would've adamantly denied the possibility of the Dark Lord ever getting married, but with his insistence on her not telling anyone about his relationship with Hermione, Ginny wasn't so sure anymore. I mean, if he was just doing this to hurt the Order, he would've loved to have it known as soon as possible. Ginny had also noticed a change in Hermione's demeanor and clothing style: she looked a lot more polished and acted more sophisticated, so much so that Ginny was reminded of Him. So clearly, he had been polishing her up this entire time . . . . "It wouldn't surprise me," she finally said. "He doesn't want the Order to find out about him and Hermione; and if he were just sleeping with her to deal a blow to the Order, he would've made it known already. And then you said that they went on a trip together?"

Draco nodded. "Paris."

Ginny let out a sniff. "Wow . . . but I can't believe she would do something like this . . . the nerve."

"It would seem that the friendless, bucktoothed, bookworm Granger we knew has been indefinitely filed away," Malfoy said with a smirk.

Ginny nodded absentmindedly. "And now I have to keep it quiet . . . ." she moaned and looked up at the ceiling, hands on the sides of her head.

"Hey, it's okay, I'll be here for you. We'll get through this, don't worry," Malfoy muttered while stroking her cheek and brining her head down.

"Okay," Ginny whispered with a tired smile and a sigh, "okay."

He responded with a kiss that took all their worries momentarily away.


As soon as Bellatrix left the Dark Lord's office, she went to her sister's where she usually took refuge after a fight with her lord. Narcissa only sighed when she caught sight of a red-eyed Bellatrix coming out of the fireplace.

"What did he do now?"

"Oh, don't you patronize me!" Bellatrix snapped, fresh tears springing into her eyes. "You don't know what it's like!"

"We've been over this, Trixie," Narcissa said while putting down her brush with which she had been brushing her long blonde hair in front of an ornate vanity. "What more do you want me to say? I have told you time and again to get over him! It's the only option you have, but you refuse to take my advice and instead spend your days hoping he'll change his mind!"

Narcissa walked towards her sister who was sitting in the corner sofa looking down at the rug. "Trixie, please, you have got to understand once and for all that he is not interested in you." Bellatrix snarled and pushed her sister away while standing up and going over to the balcony. "Bellatrix, I'm serious!" Narcissa went on, "you've got to stop living for him and start living for yourself!"

"You don't know what you're saying!" Bellatrix shrieked, "you've never been in love!"

"Love isn't one-sided," Narcissa hissed, "love is something two people share. What you have isn't love, it's obsession."

"Love! Obsession! It's all the same!" Bellatrix cried out with a laugh, "oh you really don't know anything, little sister . . . he's just using the Mudblood bitch to get back at the Order, that's why he broke it off with me. You'll see, as soon as he is done dealing with the Order, we'll get back together."

"By 'Mudblood bitch' you mean . . .?" Narcissa said in a very innocent voice.

"I shouldn't be telling you this," Bellatrix said while shaking her head, "he wouldn't like it."

"Oh come on," Narcissa whined while grabbing hold of her arm. "Is it Granger? I heard rumors . . . ."

"I'm not telling you," Bellatrix said while shaking her sister's arm off hers.

"So it is true!" Narcissa said in a triumphant voice.

Bellatrix whirled around. "Fine, it is, but you have to keep your mouth shut, and don't you dare tell your little Friday night gossip group."

Narcissa pursed her lips in disappointment, but nodded. "I wouldn't want Him coming after Draco or Lucius, anyway." Her face broke into a gleeful smile almost immediately after. "Oh, but I can just see the headline when it finally does get out!" She extended her arms and her hands swiped the air with their palms in a headline gesture. " 'Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's best friend, romantically involved with You-Know-Who!' Oh how wonderful that day will be, I'll be able to tell the girls all the filthy little details which I'll make sure to find out." She giggled, hands clasped greedily.

"Not with my help," Bellatrix added while rolling her eyes, her sister's stereotypical, upper-class wife lifestyle and attitude getting to her. "Bye."

"Oh come on Trixie, don't be like that!" Narcissa said following her sister who was walking towards the door. "We haven't even discussed your problem thoroughly."

"Are you sure I have the problem?" Bellatrix sniffed and rolled her eyes. "Good bye."

She shut the door in Narcissa's face and locked the door with a wandless charm; she could hear her sister calling out to her and furiously turning the unyielding doorknob. Bellatrix kept walking, she didn't want Cissa following her. She walked down the corridor in a quick pace as she didn't want to run into anyone who would disturb her depressed mood. However, she stopped in her tracks when she heard a familiar, but detested voice coming from one of the rooms in front of her. Bellatrix quietly edged over to the door the voice was coming from.

"Revelato," she muttered at the door, which paled out until it was almost translucent and she could see the inhabitants in the room. Her breath caught: Ginny Weasley with her nephew. In shock, Bellatrix slowly closed her previously agape mouth and made sure no one was coming before turning her attention back to the scene.

"He wants her to, but I think she still has doubts," the redhead was saying.

"Well, yeah," Draco answered looking worried.

Bellatrix scrunched up her nose when the redhead collapsed on the couch and started wailing about her predicament: so weak. However, she was even more disgusted when her nephew bent down to comfort her. What weaklings! It was only when Draco asked 'do you think she'll marry him' that Bellatrix's attention was brought back. Ginny looked to be in thought for a while before answering.

"It wouldn't surprise me. He doesn't want the Order to find out about him and Hermione; and if he were just sleeping with her to deal a blow to the Order, he would've made it known already. And then you said that they went on a trip together?"

"Yes," Draco said.

Bellatrix's mouth was agape once more, only this time it was more out of anger than surprise. A trip to Paris? He'd never taken her anywhere! But no . . . He was not interested in Granger, Weasley was wrong. He was using her . . . but the Weasley whore did counter that argument, her mind said.

"No, no, no," Bellatrix muttered. "He is just using the Mudblood to get at the Order, but Weasley is too stupid to see that, yes, that is it." She looked up, eyes narrowed. "Evanesco," she muttered at the door so that it would return to normal. She continued her walk. Even though the information was useless, her little detour had gained her blackmail-worthy material on the Weasley girl and Draco. Now, if one of them pissed her off, she could dangle that puppy over their lovesick heads.