A/N: Pay attention, my darlings. The most innocuous flower can conceal the deadliest poison. Just because it looks pretty doesn't mean there isn't a hidden sting. Or, even though it may seem filler-y, it isn't.

/\/\/\/\/\

December 15, 1998

"Thank you for seeing me, Hermione," Narcissa said as soon as she saw her.

Hermione shook her head. "Of course."

"After you hear what I have to say you might not agree," Narcissa countered, and made a wry face.

Hermione immediately came to attention.

"What's the matter?" She asked anxiously. "Did you learn something new? Should I call the others?"

Narcissa put up a hand and shook her head. "Merlin, no. I beg your pardon, I didn't mean to make you think that… no. This is slightly more frivolous."

"Frivolous?" Hermione blinked in surprise.

"After… Voldemort, things were so unsettled, and then you were focused on your duties as a Keeper," Narcissa began slowly. The normally poised, cool witch was nervously picking at the edge of her sleeve. "And once you… you Called back everyone you were even busier. It never seemed like the right time, and there was so much going on, and I didn't want to burden you, and… I forgot."

"You forgot what?" Hermione asked.

A delicate flush spread over Narcissa's pale cheeks. "The Malfoy Yule ball," she murmured. The flush darkened and she made a frustrated gesture. "I didn't completely forget about it, of course. The planning had been in effect for months, I just… I forgot that I hadn't sent you an invitation."

"Narcissa," Hermione began and then paused. She could see her hands shaking slightly and she moved them, hoping that Narcissa hadn't seen. "I don't know if I can go to Malfoy Manor," she whispered finally.

Narcissa twitched slightly. "It is my greatest shame," she admitted. "That our Keeper's person was violated, that you were hurt in my home… I can't tell you how much I regret that. I had that in mind during the entire planning process, actually. For the first time, the Malfoy Yule ball won't be at the Manor in Wiltshire. We're opening up the dower house, and we're holding the ball there this year."

"You don't have to go to all that trouble," Hermione protested.

"Please," Narcissa cuter her off in a strained voice. "I do. I must. To do otherwise would be unthinkable. It would be an insult to you, Hermione."

Despite the fact that Narcissa, for the most part, had remained poised and gracious there were certain tells that Hermione had become adept at spotting. The pale pink flush that was lingering on Narcissa's cheeks, her strained voice, and her stilted speech all pointed to the older woman being deeply upset and embarrassed. Hermione sighed.

"When is it?" Hermione asked with an air of resignation.

"This Saturday." Narcissa was studying her knees carefully.

"This… this Saturday?" Hermione squeaked.

"I brought you an invitation," she added.

Narcissa pulled an envelope out of her robes that bore silver engraving and delicate green calligraphy. Hermione opened it with nerveless fingers and stared at the invitation numbly.

"I also thought that perhaps, if it would be acceptable to you, we might go to Diagon Alley. Agatha Tatting can see you today, if you would like, and then we might have lunch," Narcissa explained hurriedly. She paused and looked surprisingly uncertain. "Andromeda would like to join us, if you say yes."

"What about…,"

"Nymphadora and her husband will keep an eye on Andromeda's… guest," Narcissa told her.

"I see." Hermione looked down at the invitation in her hands.

Everyone knew about the Malfoy Yule ball. It had always been one of the most exclusive events on the social calendar—the one event that everyone wanted to be invited to, but few were. There might be those that sneered that the guest list was a Death Eater roll call, but nothing could be further from the truth. The Malfoy Yule ball was a tradition of several centuries, and it always was a careful mix of the influential, the powerful, and the clever.

"Is she invited as well?" Hermione asked carefully.

Narcissa nodded. "Uncle Orion reinstated her immediately, and even if he had not, I would have anyway. It was because of her that… that we have you."

"And Remus and Tonks?" Hermione pressed.

Narcissa raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "I have, and they have declined. They plan on keeping an eye on Andromeda's guest. Nymphadora is determined that her mother will go. It will be Andromeda's first Yule ball in… quite some time."

Hermione's grip on the invitation tightened. This was important to Narcissa and to Andromeda. This was the sort of thing that Mrs Longbottom had been lecturing her about for weeks. Going to the Malfoy Yule ball might not be at the top of her list, but as the Matriarch of the Black family it was her duty. She nibbled on her lower lip.

"Mrs Longbottom is making me take a Christmas holiday," Hermione said at last. "I have NEWTs testing at the beginning of the year, and she wants me to relax a little bit before I give myself fits."

"So you're free today?" Narcissa brightened at that.

"As it happens, yes. And I think that I would love to take lunch with both you and Andromeda," Hermione replied.

"Wonderful." Narcissa stood.

Hermione stood as well. "Let me just speak to Orion," she murmured.

"That's fine," Narcissa assured her. "I'll need to Floo-call Andromeda and let her know."

The Black Manor had quickly become familiar, and Hermione unerringly made her way to Orion's study. Opening the door she slipped in quietly. Orion was sitting at his desk and frowning at paperwork. Hermione smiled fondly at the picture he made. He had pulled off his outer robes, and had rolled his sleeves up over his elbows. One hand was running through his hair, and a look of irritation flickered across his face.

Hiding a smile, Hermione moved forward confidently. Orion's attention was so focused on the parchment in front of him that he wouldn't notice if she stripped naked and danced in front of him. She paused and a blush stole over her cheeks as she admitted that Orion would most definitely notice that. She shook her head and moved closer. Just as she reached his desk, Orion looked up and smiled at her. He leaned back in his chair.

"Hermione."

He held out a hand to her, and Hermione automatically placed her hand in his. He turned her hand over and placed a warm, soft kiss in her palm.

"Do you have need of me?" Orion asked, and it was clear from the look in his eyes that need held more than one meaning.

"Narcissa and Andromeda want to take me to Agatha Tatting so that I can be fitted for a gown to the Malfoy Yule ball," Hermione explained quickly.

"I'll go with you," Orion decided.

Hermione shook her head. "You don't have to do that. Narcissa and Andromeda are more than capable of keeping me safe. I have the feeling that this is going to be a ladies only sort of a day."

Orion's grey eyes narrowed on Hermione's face and he seemed to consider her for several long minutes.

"I don't like it," he muttered at last. "There is a threat to your safety."

Hermione snorted. "There is always a threat to my safety."

Orion frowned at her. "What does that mean?" He demanded.

"Father, are you in here?" Sirius poked his head through the door and paused when he saw Orion glaring at Hermione. "Is everything all right?"

"What does she mean, 'there is always a threat to her safety'?" Orion snapped.

Sirius blinked and turned to look at Hermione with his own frown. "Our Keeper has a habit of throwing herself headlong into danger," he admitted.

"Most of it had to do with the fact that I'm a Muggleborn," Hermione pointed out tartly. "I can't exactly help that, now can I?"

"I will kill anyone who would dare," Orion growled.

Hermione sighed and plopped herself into Orion's lap. She wound her arms around his neck and looked up at him with soft, dewy eyes. He blinked at the sudden change.

"Orion, darling," she cooed up at him. "I'm going to have lunch with Andromeda and Narcissa, and then I'm going to spend a ridiculous amount of your galleons on clothing."

Then she leaned up and kissed him on the lips. He sat stiffly underneath her, and he didn't kiss her back. Instead, he seemed to be holding himself completely still… as though he were waiting for something.

"There will be no killing," she told him in her normal voice, a hard light in her eyes.

"Yet," Orion countered.

Hermione stared at him and the moment stretched out between them. Tension built up in the room until Hermione's eyelashes quivered and she gave him a nod so slight that one wouldn't have noticed it if one hadn't been watching for it.

"Yet," she agreed.

At that he relaxed under her. One had slipped up her back and tangled in her hair. Orion tugged on her hair, tilting her head back. Her eyes appeared to change with her mood and at the moment they reminded him of aged Firewhiskey—a dark, warm brown with hints of gold. When he slotted his mouth against hers she seemed to relax in his arms. His other hand slid up her side, grazing her breast, cupping the side of her face allowing him to deepen the kiss. He swallowed her whimper, his other hand tightening in her curls. When he released her, she blinked dazed eyes at him, sprawled across his lap wantonly.

"Fuck," Sirius breathed from somewhere nearby.

The haze of lust left Hermione's eyes, and she turned to look at Sirius.

"Did you put that on the questionnaire I gave you?" She asked curiously.

Sirius made a choking noise and flushed, but he nodded.

"Good boy," she murmured absently. Then she turned to Orion.

"I am not a 'good boy'," he muttered at her, watching her with hooded eyes.

She snorted. "Decidedly not," she agreed.

Orion pushed her gently off his lap. "Go have fun with Narcissa and Andromeda."

/\/\/\/\/\

The pointing and whispering weren't the worst part of walking down Diagon Alley. They certainly weren't her favourite, but Hermione could deal with the nods, the bows, and the curtseys. The worst bit was actually running into her fellow Muggleborn, Dean Thomas. As soon as she saw him, a sinking feeling spread through her. A grin split his face when he spotted her and he hurried toward her with a hand raised in greeting.

"Hermione! I wondered if I would see you," he called cheerfully.

"Dean," she greeted him politely with a smile and a nod.

Before she could say anything else, Dean had swept her up into a tight hug and had swung her in a circle. Hermione immediately stiffened in his arms, pulling away as soon as he set her back down.

In Dean's defence, they had always been friends—and the night after the Battle of Hogwarts had been filled with an almost hysterical 'Merlin, we actually did it!' sort of high. Ron had disappeared at one point, and Dean had been there. One night, and then Dean had left wizarding Britain for a bit, to 'do some thinking'. He had most likely not heard about her becoming a Keeper.

"Hermione?" Dean asked with a worried frown. "Is something wrong?"

Next to her, she could see Andromeda and Narcissa gripping each other's arms—most likely to avoid killing Dean.

"We need to talk," Hermione muttered.

Dean blinked at her in surprise. "Merlin's beard," he whispered. "Are you… oh god, you are, aren't you?"

"What?" Hermione honestly couldn't figure out what he was talking about.

"You're pregnant!" He blurted out. Then his voice lowered and he leaned toward her. "Is it Ron's?"

There were several gasps from people walking by, and Hermione's jaw dropped in surprise. While she stood, gaping at Dean in shock, the flash of a camera went off somewhere nearby.

"My lady." Andromeda's voice was strained and there was a muscle ticking in her jaw.

"I know," Hermione growled. "I know. Do what you need to do, just… don't kill him, and figure out a way for me to talk to him."

To Hermione's surprise, Narcissa and Andromeda took off after the photographer, leaving Hermione and Dean standing alone in Diagon Alley. Well, alone as one could get with people standing and gawking at them.

"Hermione, what's going on?" Dean asked slowly.

Hermione threw her hands in the air. "I give up," she muttered. "Come on; let's go to the café that Andromeda and Narcissa were taking me for lunch. They'll meet us when they're done."

The café was small and intimate, and the server rushed to seat them at the best table.

"Andromeda Tonks and Narcissa Malfoy will be joining me shortly," Hermione explained. "They've been detained slightly, but they should be along any moment."

"Yes, Keeper Black," the server murmured and bowed several times.

When the server left, Dean turned to stare at her with raised eyebrows.

"What the hell is going on?" He demanded.

Hermione flinched. "There is no way to say any of this without sounding crazy," she warned him.

Dean motioned at her to continue.

"Right. So, I'm a Keeper," she began.

"But you hate flying," Dean protested.

"Not that kind," Hermione retorted. "I'm a special kind of witch."

Dean gave her a warm smile. "I know."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Not that kind," she repeated. She sighed and rubbed absently at her temple. "I can… Keepers have the ability to call wizards back from the Veil. I did. Call them back, I mean."

"You called wizards back from the dead?" Dean whispered, leaning toward her after he glanced around the café. "Hermione that's really dangerous."

"It's this special ritual that only Keepers are able to perform," Hermione continued on grimly, determined to get this over with. "Each Keeper is the… the protector of a specific House. My House was the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. I Called back Orion, Cygnus, Sirius and Regulus Black."

"What… like for real?" Dean appeared to be gob-smacked.

"They're bound to me," Hermione explained firmly. "They're my husbands."

"What, all four of them?" Dean's voice rose and Hermione could feel her face turn red.

"Yes," she hissed at him.

"So… you're married," Dean said slowly.

"Yes."

"And you're not pregnant?" Dean asked again.

Hermione peeked around the café, and gave a small sigh of relief that they weren't close enough to the other diners for anyone to hear them.

"Not yet, no," she growled.

Dean relaxed at that, and she glared at him.

"Thank Merlin," he sighed.

"You'd better hope that Narcissa and Andromeda catch that damn photographer," Hermione snapped. "If the Daily Prophet prints a picture of you with me and some great, ruddy headline about me being pregnant… Merlin's teeth, they'd kill you."

"Mrs Malfoy and Mrs Tonks?" Dean asked with wide eyes.

"Well, them too," she muttered. She shook her head. "Look, Dean. Go talk to Neville. Tell him I asked him to please explain it all to you. Just… don't grab me again. If… if one my husbands were with me they would curse first and ask questions later."

Dean frowned, and looked at her with worry and concern in his eyes. "Hermione… are you okay?" He lowered his voice and leaned forward. "They haven't hurt you, have they? If you're in trouble, I could arrange to have you smuggled out of the country."

Hermione shook her head and fought to keep from laughing in Dean's face.

"No, they haven't hurt me. They can't. Please talk to Neville," Hermione begged him.

"I will," Dean promised.

"Good," Hermione murmured. She caught sight of Narcissa and Andromeda sweeping into the café looking perfectly calm with not a single hair out of place. She might have worried that they hadn't caught up with the photographer, except for the smug look in their eyes. "Everything taken care of?"

"Of course," Narcissa murmured.

"And your… friend?" Andromeda's eyes had narrowed on Dean Thomas.

"This is Dean Thomas who is a Muggleborn, a fellow Gryffindor, and a friend of Harry's and mine," Hermione told them. "I have explained as much as I can, and I've asked him to speak to Neville."

"That would be a good idea," Narcissa said with a cool smile at Dean.

"You are lucky that it was us," Andromeda added.

"Hermione mentioned that," Dean replied with a grimace. Taking the hint, Dean stood. He paused, awkwardly, and finally gave a Hermione a wave. "It was good to see you."

"It was good to see you, too, Dean," Hermione told him with a warm smile. "Please talk to Neville."

"Yeah, I'll do that," Dean murmured. He nodded to Andromeda and Narcissa, and then left.

"Well that wasn't awkward at all," Hermione muttered. She turned to Narcissa. "Does this place serve alcohol?"

/\/\/\/\/\

"Turn, Keeper Black." Agatha Tatting had her tape measure in hand. "Now, what sort of gown would you like to wear?"

"Something that covers my arms," Hermione replied automatically.

Agatha smirked at her. "And nothing else?"

Hermione snorted. "If you did that I would never make it to the Malfoy Yule ball, and Narcissa would be most put out with you."

"Ah, but I would most likely receive an order for Naming robes a few months later, so I win no matter the outcome," Agatha said archly.

Hermione laughed at that.

"Can you make a gown that is entirely proper, but still teases? What would drive a Black wizard wild?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Oh, Keeper Black, you have come to the right place," Agatha cackled.

"Not green," Andromeda suggested. "Mother always wore it, and so did Walburga."

"And not black," Narcissa added with a smirk. "If you wear black, it's almost like you're marking yourself theirs. If you wore a different colour… that would drive them crazy."

"Well, maybe not Sirius," Andromeda countered.

"If it was the right colour," Narcissa observed, a small smile playing on her lips.

Hermione had a feeling that Narcissa was speaking from experience, and she wondered which colour drove Lucius crazy.

"Leave that to me," Agatha told them. "Where would you like it sent?"

"Send it to me," Narcissa said. "If we send it to Black Manor, they'll peek at it."

/\/\/\/\/\

As a young man, attendance at the Malfoy Yule ball had been mandatory; Orion remembered it as one of the most heavily-anticipated events of the year. Walburga had always spent months poring over wizarding fashion plates before she would decide what she was going to wear. Orion had never cared. The night of the Malfoy ball had always been one long night where he danced attendance on Walburga, and fled her company at every available opportunity.

"This will actually be fun, won't it," Cygnus asked with a tone of wonder.

"Did you not enjoy the Malfoy Yule ball?" Regulus countered.

"No, never," Cygnus replied with a casual shrug. "Druella loved the damn thing, but I usually spent the entire time wishing I could just go home."

"I don't know if I would classify it as fun," Orion cautioned Cygnus. "We'll all need to be on our guard. Listen carefully to everyone. Keep an eye on each other."

"We'll still get to dance with Hermione, won't we?" Regulus asked in a subdued voice.

"Of course," Orion assured him. "Just keep your eyes and ears open."

All four wizards Flooed together to the Malfoy dower house where a young wizard that vaguely reminded Orion of Cynric Nott was standing. He bowed deeply to them.

"Welcome to Daringham Hall, sirs," he told them. He held an arm toward a set of open doors. "The ballroom is just through there."

Orion led the way as they walked through a short hallway into a large ballroom. Standing just inside the door, Lucius and Draco Malfoy were waiting to greet them. Lucius bowed politely to Orion, and then gave a slightly deeper bow to his father-in-law. Draco was staring at his grandfather with a dazed expression, but then he remembered himself and bowed politely to Orion and Cygnus.

"Draco, you're looking well," Cygnus said with a slight smile.

"Not quite as well as you, sir," Draco replied slowly.

"Is Narcissa still getting ready?" Orion asked Lucius.

Lucius smirked. "She insists on making a grand entrance tonight."

"Mother wants to enter with Aunt Andromeda and Grang—I mean, the Keeper Black," Draco added. "She said something about a united front."

"So we're all stuck waiting together then," Orion said smoothly with a polite smile for Lucius.

"As you say," Lucius murmured.

"We'll amuse ourselves while we wait," Cygnus added. "Is Sirius' godson here?"

"Potter?" Draco asked stiffly. "He's dancing with Luna Lovegood at the moment."

"Very good, thank you, Draco," Cygnus murmured.

After mingling among the party-goers, Orion began to circulate. A smile here, a polite phrase there, he slowly navigated his way around the room. Cygnus was doing the same thing from the other side of the room, and Sirius and Regulus were dancing.

The uninitiated might assume that Sirius and Regulus had taken the less responsible route, but Orion knew better. He glanced to the floor and saw Sirius laugh and flirt lightly with the witch in his arms. He had no doubt that Sirius was extracting every last bit of information from the woman. Regulus was doing the same, but his technique was more subdued; he smiled, and spoke quietly, but Orion knew that Regulus was just as adept at getting witches to tell him what they knew.

A fanfare drew all eyes to the large curved staircase. Standing at the top of the staircase, flanked by Andromeda and Narcissa, was his Keeper. Orion's breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. Her thick curls had been swept up into some sort of sophisticated hairstyle that allowed a few stray locks curl along her neck.

The gown covered Hermione from neck to toe, but as she moved regally down the stairs Orion realized that sections of the gown were completely sheer and that the only thing obscuring her body from view was a delicate pattern of lace and some strategically placed beads. If that weren't enough, the damn dress was a dark, rich wine burgundy that flattered her colouring.

"Bloody hell," Regulus muttered from beside him. "How can we spend the entire night holding her without touching her?"

"I don't know," Orion muttered. The urge to drag Hermione off to a secluded corner and take her against a spare bit of wall was almost overwhelming.

Hermione continued down the stairs until she reached them.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart," Sirius said in a husky voice. He took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

Hermione flashed a smile at all of them. "Thank you, Sirius. All of you look amazing."

Orion held out a hand to Hermione, and she placed her hand in his.

"Ready?" he asked.

"As long as you stay with me," she muttered.

"We won't leave your side," he promised.

Another smile. "I know you won't," she murmured.

Holding Hermione in his arms, dancing with her, was perfect. They moved together as if they had been dance partners for years. For the first moments they danced silently, Orion spinning her expertly.

"You dance beautifully," he commented, at a loss to say anything else.

"Years of lessons," she told him with a wry smile. "You dance well, too."

"I had years of lessons as well," Orion offered. He pulled Hermione closer to him and leaned down. "This is going to be long night, witch."

Hermione nodded gravely. "Have you learned anything useful?"

"A bit," he said with a shrug. He glanced down at her curiously. "I was congratulated by no less than three people. Would you care to shed some light on that?"

Hermione lost her footing temporarily, and glared at her husband. "It was a misunderstanding," she bit out between clenched teeth.

"What sort of misunderstanding?" Orion pressed.

"I ran into a friend… someone I hadn't seen since the night after the Battle of Hogwarts," Hermione explained quietly as Orion expertly twirled her around the floor. "I told him that we should probably talk, and he assumed… he assumed that I was pregnant."

Orion's arms tightened around Hermione.

"A friend?" His voice was silky, but his eyes flashed with steel.

"A friend," his witch repeated stubbornly. She sighed. "He might have blurted that bit out in the middle of Diagon Alley."

Orion's nostrils flared.

"I set him straight, and Andromeda and Narcissa took care of the photographer," Hermione continued with a frown.

"The photographer?" Orion blinked in surprise, and he automatically sought out Cygnus who was watching them dance.

"It's really no big deal, and we took care of it," Hermione went on with a determined look in her eyes. "There's no need to threaten Dean, or to try and kill him."

"Dean," Orion growled. He would remember that name.

"Orion!" Hermione hissed at him. His eyes snapped to hers. "No killing," she repeated.

"Yet," he reminded her.

"Not Dean. He didn't do… okay, maybe he did, sort of, but you can't kill people for that." Hermione huffed. She glared around the ballroom. "How many people would I have to kill if I killed everyone who ever slept with you, or Cygnus, or Sirius, or Regulus. Where would I hide all the bodies?"

Orion snorted. "I concede your point, Hermione," he said at last.

"What happened before was… before. It's what happens now that matters," Hermione added.

Orion nodded. "This is true."

"Do you suppose anyone would notice if we snuck off to the balcony, and I let you work on making those congratulations true?" Hermione asked curiously.

Orion stared at her for a moment as all of the blood in his body rushed south. Then he threw back his head and laughed.

"If I were any other man I would drag you out there right now," he warned her.

Hermione nodded. "I know," she agreed with a little sigh. "You take your responsibilities very seriously."

"Later, witch," he promised.

"I'll hold you to that."

/\/\/\/\/\

The Malfoy Yule ball had been declared a success by one and all. Many had commented on the beauty and the charm of Keeper Black, but all had been overtly respectful and polite when speaking of her. Regulus had kept track of everyone who had spoken to him, and everyone who had, or had not, mentioned his Keeper. The majority had been respectful, and had tendered their felicitations. There were one or two incidents that he wanted to speak to his father or Cygnus about, but that would be tomorrow.

Tonight, he was tired. It had been some time since he had participated in the intricate political dances of wizarding society. Regulus had used mental muscles that Voldemort had not required of him, and he found that they had grown soft. Tomorrow he would speak to Orion and to Cygnus and ask for their help. He knew that they would give it readily, and that knowledge comforted him.

With a sigh, he pushed open his bedroom door and slipped in. The wall sconces had been turned to low, but there was more than enough light for him to see without tripping over the furniture. He fumbled with the cravat at his throat, but finally he managed to get the thing undone, and he tugged it off with a sigh of relief. Next, he unbuttoned his formal dress robes, eager to get them off. He turned to toss it on a chair next to bed when he noticed that his bed was not empty.

"Don't stop on my account."

Lying sprawled across his pillows, wearing some sort of filmy-looking negligee-thing, was his Keeper.

"Hermione," he breathed. "What are you doing here?"

"Sirius said something the other day," Hermione said, and she sat up and crossed her legs. She put her chin on her hand and frowned. "And I decided that I wanted to know if it was true."

"What?" Regulus' voice rose.

"We've been together for such a short time," Hermione observed with a frown. "Less than two months."

"Has it been only that long?" Regulus murmured as he moved closer to the bed.

"How long is long enough?" Hermione asked.

What did Hermione want to know? Regulus ran a hand through his hair absently, and tried to think of all the possible things that Sirius might have mentioned that would result in Hermione coming to him for an answer. There were several possibilities, but which would make Hermione come to him alone?

"Regulus?" Hermione asked uncertainly. "If I asked you something… would you tell the truth?"

"Of course," Regulus protested.

"Do you love me?" Hermione whispered.

Regulus froze. "I…"

Hermione moved abruptly, slipping off the bed. "It's okay," she told him hurriedly. "I shouldn't have asked you that. I'm sorry, I'll just go."

"Yes, I do," Regulus blurted out. He caught Hermione by the elbow, tugging her to him. He cupped her face in his hands and stared into her eyes; they were always so expressive, and at the moment they were fixed on his face.

"I do, too," Hermione whispered. "Love you, I mean."

He blinked. "Good. That's good."

Hermione nodded and then bit her lip. "I probably should go."

"Stay," Regulus said softly.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Okay."

As Regulus continued to disrobe, Hermione slipped back into his bed. It was odd, but he found it exciting, baring himself for his Keeper. He stripped, and then turned toward her. He wasn't ashamed of his body, especially not with her warm eyes on him. Hermione had her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin on her knees.

"Every single one of you," she murmured absently, her eyes roving over him. "You're all so pretty."

Regulus laughed. "Sirius was the pretty one, the one that all the girls swarmed after."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, and muttered something that sounded like you and Cygnus. She slid out of the bed again, and shrugged out of her nightgown. Regulus sucked in half the oxygen from the room. Hermione usually took his breath away. Hermione, naked, made him want to throw himself on her and never come up for air ever again. Then she stepped closer until her breasts were pressed against his chest.

"I think you're beautiful," Hermione said firmly.

"Beautiful," he repeated, his eyes on her face.

Carefully, Hermione grabbed his face in her hands and pulled him to her so that she could kiss him. Regulus wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. Hermione groaned into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck. She rubbed herself against him, and Regulus sent up a small prayer that he would not disgrace himself.

"Regulus," she sighed.

As they had grown closer, Regulus had become more and more familiar with Hermione's body. He knew which touches made her sigh, and which kisses made her gasp for more. He used all of that information now, stroking her just so, and pressing gentle kisses there. Hermione arched beneath him, her fingers tangling in his hair. Regulus teased her gently, slowly coaxing her to the heights of pleasure, building the tension until she couldn't stand it any longer.

"Please," she begged.

"What do you want?" Regulus asked, hovering over her.

"More," she breathed. "I want more."

Gently, Regulus nudged Hermione's legs apart and settled between them, his cock poised at her entrance.

"Are you sure?" Regulus asked in a strained voice.

"Oh yes," Hermione told him, her hands touching his back, urging him on.

Regulus bit his lip as he surged into Hermione. Her back arched again and her nails dug into his shoulders. Wet heat surrounded him, pulling him in even further. He placed his forehead on her shoulder and took several shuddering breaths. Sex always felt good, but this… this was different. Hermione was different. Her fingers were in his hair, stroking his back. Regulus pulled back to stare at her. She was watching him, her eyes focused on his face.

"Okay?" She asked him cautiously.

Regulus nodded. "More than okay," he murmured and began to move inside her.

The feel of Hermione under him, around him, drove him wild with need. He gripped her hips and she hissed in pleasure. Emboldened by her encouragement, he thrust into her harder, his hips flexing faster.

"Yes," Hermione cried, sliding her hands down her back and grabbing his bum. "Just like that, Regulus."

"I need," he panted against her skin. "Please, Hermione, tell me you're close."

"So close," Hermione keened, moving against him frantically. "Now!"

With a cry, Regulus let go completely, pounding into Hermione. She threw her head back and shuddered.

"I love you," he panted into her neck.

"I know," Hermione murmured, her hands coming up and holding his head to her breast. "I love you, too."

Point of Clarification: As astute readers have noted, Dean Thomas is technically a half-blood, but he did not know this however because his father "left" their family and was then killed by Death Eaters. He never knew about his father until some later point. I'm not sure when he found this out-apparently before the Seventh Year since according to the wikis/Pottermore he wasn't able to prove his lineage. He does not know who his father was.

So really, for all intents and purposes, Dean Thomas grew up believing he was a Muggleborn. He is just as clueless about the wizarding world as any Muggleborn would be.

It is possible that Hermione felt it might be safer for Dean if she stressed his ignorance of the wizarding world.