~ Year Six ~
Hermione didn't stay at what was nominally her own home that summer; she just dropped off her things and greeted her parents. "I have some independent Potions research to do," she lied easily, "and the Malfoys have a lab in their house. It's okay if I stay with them, right?"
"Remind me what Potions is?" her father asked.
"Sort of wizarding chemistry," she said, "with a dash of pharmacology thrown in."
"Science then," he said approvingly. "Have a good time, sweetheart."
"Be polite to Mrs. Malfoy," her mother said.
And that was that.
"It's weird that your parents are so comfortable just letting you run off and stay with me," Draco said and she shrugged.
"They were never exactly the smothering type even when I was little. They were both busy in their practice and anything that made me more independent they liked. Now? The idea that I'm off doing independent science research is all good. If I were a Muggle they'd probably have shipped me off to some kind of school-y summer camp anyway so…"
"Still weird," Draco said.
He'd been subdued since they'd gotten the news his father was in Azkaban. In between flashes of rage, he sat staring out windows for hours at a time. "We'll get them," Hermione would promise. "We'll get them all."
Malfoy Manor was a tad less comfortable this summer than it had been in the past. Tom Riddle was there most days, surrounded by what Death Eaters weren't in prison, making plans. This meant Hermione saw little of him at first; she couldn't quite decide whether that was a relief or a disappointment. The man was terrifying, true, but charismatic. That he'd built a following of people who'd go to prison for him – who'd die for him – wasn't hard to believe after you spent any time in his presence.
He also had a way of making it seem, when he turned his attention onto you, as though you were the cleverest, most interesting person he'd ever met. At dinner one night, after plates had been cleared, he leaned back and regarded Hermione and said, one of those amused half-smiles on his face, "Did I tell you Dumbledore rescued Dolores Umbridge?"
Hermione set her wine glass down and prepared to fence. "No," she said, smiling back. "How disappointing."
Riddle laughed and Bellatrix Lestrange glowered at Hermione across the table. "Yes, though she's apparently been traumatized and mostly lies there in her bed without speaking."
"I suppose that's better than nothing," Hermione said, "Though I admit I'd hoped she'd never come back."
"Let it be a lesson," Riddle suggested, "however clever your plans are to eliminate someone – and that was well done indeed, having Potter do your dirty work for you, especially unknowingly – if you really want them dead you have to do it yourself."
Hermione tipped her head to the side as Draco watched them both, his eyes going back and forth from Hermione to Riddle in nervous flickers. "What about delegation?" she asked.
"What had she done to you?" Bellatrix interrupted, earning her a slightly annoyed look from Riddle.
Hermione glanced at Riddle for tacit permission to respond before she spoke. "She had some issues with my heritage," she said, her voice sweeter than the cakes the elves were bringing out. "And there was a minor incident with a blood quill." She patted her mouth with a napkin and thanked the elf who'd slid a dessert plate in front of her. "Really, I just had a problem with her attitude."
"I look forward to seeing into how lethal a weapon I can turn you," Riddle said.
"It would be my privilege to do anything you might request," Hermione said, her eyes on Bellatrix, not Riddle. "Though I do hope you don't totally discourage initiative."
"Indeed not," Riddle said. "Assuming I think you're competent." He picked up a fork and poked at his cake. "To truly please me you should learn to anticipate what I want. To read between the lines, as it were. Less Peter, perhaps, and more Narcissa if you were seeking models." He looked up from his cake at her. "But do keep in mind that killing Potter is mine to do."
Bellatrix tittered, a mad cackle that earned her another narrow eyed glance from Riddle before he began eating the dessert.
"You two scare me," Draco said when they were back in their sitting room. "I can't tell what he wants from you."
"Same thing he wants from all of us," Theo said. "Obedience. He's just giving her a long leash." He and Daphne were cuddled up on a couch. "You and me, mate, we'll be soldiers. Elite ones, maybe, but that's all. You'll be Minister of Magic some day and I'll be your loyal assistant and we'll do what Riddle tells us. It's the drawback of immorality, I guess; you have to use puppets so you don't scare the masses too badly. Hermione'll be…"
"Your wife," she interrupted them. "Just your wife, Draco. A society hostess. Harmless and charitable and a leading figure in non-controversial causes, like feeding children." She grinned at Daphne who smiled back, even if her smile was a little wan. Daphne was not quite as comfortable with these high wire dinners as Hermione.
"He wants us to take the Mark this summer," Draco said.
"Both of you?" Hermione asked and he nodded.
"I'm scared," he admitted. "It's supposed to hurt and… I mean I want it." His voice got lower and harder at the same time. "I've wanted it for years and now that Dad's… I want to… Potter has to pay. They all have to pay."
"It'll be okay," she said, pulling him over to her. "I'll be here when it's done."
He reached over to her and fingered the necklace that still looked like a heart to him unless she consciously shifted it. "How come you get jewelry and I get a scar?" he teased and she smirked.
"Guess he likes me better?"
"Or not as much." Bellatrix was standing in the door. "Probably doesn't want to actually put his Mark on a Mudblood."
Draco's fingers curled into a furious claw but Hermione just smiled and leaned, rather languidly, against the arm of the couch she was on and let her head tilt to the side. "You go on and tell yourself that, Auntie Bella, if it makes you feel better."
"Filth," the woman snarled again, and then snapped at Draco, "He wants you. Without the girl."
"The girl has a name," Draco hissed at her, but Bellatrix just shrugged and waited for him to get up and answer Riddle's summons.
"You make a good messenger girl, Bella," Hermione said right before the older witch closed the door with a slam.
"I'm curious," Theo said, "Do you actually like playing with fire or something? Because that woman's –"
"Mad as a sodding hatter," Hermione said. "I know."
"Have you ever heard the phrase, 'don't poke the crazy'?" Theo asked.
"I'm just waiting for permission," Hermione said, watching the door Bellatrix had exited through.
"Draco's right," Theo said, shaking his head. "You are fucking scary."
. . . . . . . . . .
Riddle summoned them all to one of the lawns one afternoon and tossed a book at Hermione. "Spelles Moste Fowle?" she read, a question in her voice.
"Practice them away from the house," he suggested. "I understand you had a little study group last year as you prepared for your O.W.L.s?"
Hermione nodded.
"It's time to expand on that," he said.
"Are any of these not banned?" Hermione asked, flipping through the book with rapid movements.
"It's possible," Riddle admitted. "I don't really bother keeping up with Ministry rules and regulations." He turned to go back toward the house, tossing one last comment over his shoulder. "I expect you to know all of those by the start of school, Hermione. Don't disappoint me."
. . . . . . . . . .
When Draco and Theo took the Mark, their screams echoed in the Manor. Daphne and Hermione sat with Narcissa and Bellatrix in Narcissa's private parlour having been absolutely ordered away. Riddle, however, didn't bother with Silencing Charms and they all heard the sounds.
Taking the Mark, as it turned out, was neither painless nor quick.
Narcissa sat, her hand clenched around the edge of a chair, her white knuckles the only sign she wasn't wholly relaxed. Hermione and Daphne played a game of chess, their hands shaking as they moved the pieces. Bellatrix alone displayed no signs of tension at all, laughing wildly as the screams started.
"Their first sacrifice for our Lord," she said between giggles. "How proud you must be, Cissa, how happy that your only child has been found worthy. Would that I had a son I could give to the Dark Lord."
A loud, anguished sound pushed its way into the room and Narcissa's hand tightened still further. "But why this worry, Cissa?" Bellatrix asked. "The boy wants it. He, at least, is eager to prove his worth! Those are the sounds of devotion you hear; you should rejoice in them. You should wish for more!"
"Get out," Narcissa said, her voice even and calm and Bellatrix cackled.
"You're cracking, dear Cissa. Cracking. You're not worthy to kiss our Lord's –"
"If you do not get out, I will throw you out," Narcissa said, her tone unmoved by Bella's accusations. Something in that level tone, however, pierced Bella's manic glee and the witch glided to the door.
"As you will, Cissa. Rejoice that your son –"
"Now," Narcissa said, her already tone implacable becoming a tad more vicious, and, hearing that, Bellatrix finally left; the door closed silently behind her as another scream filled the air. Hermione immediately crossed to Narcissa's side and, kneeling in front of her, took her hand.
"It will be okay, ma'am," she said. "Their fathers both endured it and they were fine. They'll both be fine and we'll take care of them when it's done." She squeezed the woman's hand. "It will be fine. I'm sorry your sister –"
"She is no sister of mine," Narcissa said, almost absently. "My sister died in Azkaban. That… thing… walking around in her body is a broken mirror, reflecting fragments of what once was back at us. But what was once is no more."
Hermione looked up at Narcissa and the two witches made brief eye contact before another scream rent the air and all three women in the room shuddered.
"How long is it going to take?" Daphne finally cried out, releasing all the fear and worry she'd suppressed while Bellatrix was prowling about. "This is terrible."
"Probably several more hours," Narcissa said.
. . . . . . . . . . .
When Draco came to, he turned his head, somewhat cautiously, and the lack of pain was a pleasant surprise. "Hermione," he croaked and the girl, who'd been sitting in a chair by his bed, jerked awake and stared at him for a moment before stumbling forward and flinging herself down to the floor at the side of his bed. She reached out toward him, as though afraid he might break, and he slipped the fingers of one hand into hers.
"How long have I been out?" he asked, his voice clearer now.
"A few days," she said and his eyes widened.
"Days?" he asked in horror and looked over at a table that had been set up with potions and what looked like a bowl to catch vomit.
Hermione squeezed his fingers. "You seem all right now," she said. "And you're a Death Eater. Congratulations."
He watched her face, looking for some sign of bitterness, analyzed her tone, looking for sarcasm. There was none. "Still like me?" he asked very quietly.
She pulled herself up, sat on the edge of his bed, and turned his arm over so the Mark was visible. She looked at it for a bit, as did he. It was a dark stain that went deep into his core, tying him to this movement forever. Her eyes traced it, then her fingers, stroking the lines of the snake and the skull very lightly and Draco could feel himself harden at that soft touch on his arm. He began to think desperately about Quidditch scores and how much pain he'd been in to get that Mark she was touching and he was struggling to will the arousal away, and he was so focused on his efforts that he almost missed her words.
He never would have forgiven himself if he'd done that.
"I love you, Draco Malfoy," she said. "I will never, ever stop loving you. Through rain and fire and war, never ever doubt my love for you."
"I love you, too," he said, watching her face in wonder.
She broke the intensity of the moment by adding, "I'm glad you survived. Riddle decided to tell me at dinner last night that not everyone does."
Draco shuddered. "What did you say?"
Hermione grinned at him and he shuddered again. The way she and Tom Riddle spoke to one another made him want to crawl into a cave and never come out. "I suggested he improve his screening process because that seemed like a lot of effort to put into a potential follower who didn't even make it."
"And?"
"And he laughed, of course, and your Aunt Bella did that thing where she looks at me like she wants nothing more than to start chopping me into tiny bits."
Draco sat up and looked around and realized, in horror, that he was in his actual bedroom. "Hermione, you can't be in here," he said, frantically. "You need to get out before anyone… fuck! I've compromised you. You need to –"
"Don't be ridiculous."
Draco twisted, following the sound of that voice.
Narcissa spoke again from the corner where she'd been sitting in the shadows. "She's been properly chaperoned every moment she's been with you.
"Oh." Draco sagged down in relief.
"I will assume your momentary fear I would permit anything untoward to happen under my roof has been brought on by the disorientation of your ordeal," Narcissa said, coming forward to kiss him lightly. "Now, after several days abed, you'll want to shower. Come, Hermione."
The woman gestured to Hermione who obediently stood to follow her hostess. As she did so, her necklace hung down and Draco reached out and put the tip of his finger on it. The charm was a perfect, miniature copy of the Mark on his arm. "I can see it," he said in awe.
More than see it, he could feel the warning in that charm telling everyone who had eyes to see it that the wearer was untouchable. No wonder Bella hadn't just killed her out of hand.
"Of course," Hermione said. "You're a Death Eater now."
. . . . . . . . . .
Over breakfast the next morning, a rather strained affair with Theo and Draco both nibbling at toast as though they were afraid any sudden infusion of solids would return them to the miserable state that had not quite enjoyed over the past few days, Riddle quizzed Hermione on the progress she'd made through the spell book he'd assigned her. Finally, he leaned back and smiled at her, obviously pleased. "And to think I'd considered killing you."
"A decision you could always reconsider," Bella muttered.
"I'm sorry, Bella, that sounded like you doubted me," Riddle said, turning to her, his voice light and pleasant as he reached across the table for another scone.
The woman said, "I would never doubt you! No one has been as true to you as I have, my Lord. I am your most loyal, your most faithful –"
"Yes," he cut her off, sounding bored. "Unfortunately, you are not also my most effective, Bella. After that fiasco at the Ministry, I am considering that perhaps if I want mindless, slavering loyalty I should simply get a dog."
"If Lucius –" Bella began.
"Don't try to pass your failures onto another," Riddle said. "The Ministry was a disaster on every side and, since that time, I've decided I have to occlude my mind and rather than feed Potter visions, keep him from any knowledge of my thoughts." He tapped his fingers on the table. "I've come to the conclusion that attacking that boy before the blood ward dissipates is simply not going to work. Lily Potter, whatever her myriad failings, protected him too well."
"Your magic is greater than his, my Lord –" Bella tried to begin again and this time Riddle sighed.
"Bella, your devotion really is… adorable… but if you could try to stay in the same reality as the rest of us it would be more helpful. Obviously the warding on that boy has stayed my hand multiple times. Simply announcing what is isn't is not loyal, it's idiotic."
"He is nothing compared to you," Bella protested and Riddle began to rub at his forehead.
"Bella, leave us," he said. She sat, frozen, in her seat until he looked at her and said, "Do I need to repeat myself?" at which point, glaring at Hermione as though her banishment from breakfast could be laid at the younger woman's feet, Bellatrix Lestrange pushed back from the table and stalked out of the room.
Draco and Theo had been watching the exchange with wide eyes.
"Do we know when his birthday is?" Hermione asked.
"July 31," Riddle said, watching her.
"So, you kill him on August first," she said with a shrug, "When the ward expires. Do you have a book you can recommend on warding like that? It's clearly impressive and slippery and I'd like to see if one could do it without needing to fling oneself in front of deadly curse as the final seal."
"I'll have Narcissa track a book down for you; the library here at Malfoy Manor is sadly disorganized."
"I'll do that," Narcissa said, smiling as she took the empty seat next to what had been Bella's place. "What did you do to upset Bella? I passed her in the hall and she was trying to pull her hair out by the roots."
"Pointed out she was tiresome," Riddle said.
"She's never cared for that," Narcissa said as she poured herself some tea. "Did you children know your O.W.L. results are expected today?"
Hermione's face became immediately filled with utter terror. "I know I bungled Runes," she moaned. "That translation. And Astronomy with that horrible woman trying to… and Potter's little meltdown during History of Magic… and…"
"Honestly," Theo muttered, "will you shut up? You're not the only one who's nervous, you know."
"Don't," Hermione moaned, burying her face in her hands. "I know I've failed all of them."
"What happens if we did fail everything?" Daphne asked, her face pale.
"We meet with Snape to 'discuss what few, unappealing options will remain to you.'" Hermione said with despair. "I asked him at the end of last term."
Narcissa and Tom Riddle exchanged amused glances. "I'm sure that, no matter what your results are, you'll all go on to lead happy and productive lives," Narcissa said. "Though, of course, I hope you've all made a respectable showing."
"Go and wait for your results someplace else," Riddle said, despite looking amused. "Your adolescent hysteria is almost as annoying as Bella."
They all rose and fled the room to the sound of Narcissa and Riddle's laughter.
When the owls did arrive, Hermione refused to open her own envelope. Draco had to take it off the leg of the increasingly impatient owl as she just stood in the entry hall and shook. Daphne was able to untie her own results though she just stood looking at the envelope for several long minutes. Theo just muttered, "It can't possibly be worse than getting that Mark," and opened his right up.
"How did I get an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Divination?" Daphne was the first one to speak. "I made everything up. Everything. All of it."
"Eight O.W.L.s," Draco nearly sagged with relief as he looked over his sheet. "And an 'Outstanding' in Potions and Defense."
Theo yanked Hermione's unopened envelope out of her hand and, prying it open said, "Why did you only get an 'E' in Runes?"
She said, her voice very small, "It was that translation. I knew I bungled it."
Theo rolled his eyes and handed her the sheet. "You… you utter git," she said, reaching out to hit him. "I got an 'Outstanding' in Runes. And you knew I was worried about that one. I take back every nice thing I've ever said about you!"
He dodged out of the way and grinned. "You've said nice things?"
Draco came up behind her and read the sheet over her shoulder. "Merlin, Hermione. Nine 'Outstanding's. I knew you were a swot, but that's insane."
She was folding up the paper and slipping it back in the envelope and Draco, looking at her, said, "You're not disappointed, are you?" She shook her head, but he grabbed her and pulled her into a hug. "You idiot."
"So… now we're N.E.W.T. students," Daphne said, looking relieved and worried at the same time.
"Let's go swimming," Theo said. "Summer's lease expires and something about a short date and all."
"What?" said Draco.
"He means summer will be over soon and we'll be back at school dealing with all those jerks," Hermione said, "so we should go to the pool now."
. . . . . . . . . . .
They were at Madam Malkin's getting fitted for the year's school robes when they had the not exactly delightful experience of running into Potter again. Draco was up on the platform while Madam Malkin took up his hem.
"Ow," he muttered. "Watch where you shove those pins!"
Hermione, who had several blood spots of her own from the woman's vigorous pinning, flinched in sympathy.
"I simply cannot permit you children to wander off alone," Narcissa was saying from the back room as the door opened and Potter and Weasley came into the shop.
"Honestly, Mum," Draco muttered, "I'm not six. I'm perfectly capable of going shopping without you. I'll bring Hermione with me to make sure I stay out of whatever trouble it is you imagine I'm going to get into in broad daylight." He looked over at the pair of boys standing in the doorway and sneered, "And if you wondered what the smell was, a blood-traitor just came into the shop."
Madam Malkin said, spitting all the pins out of her mouth, "There's no need for that." She looked over at the boys in her doorway who both had pulled their wands and were pointing them at Draco and added, "and no wands drawn in my shop."
"Always violence and bad choices with you two, isn't it?" Hermione drawled. "Do you have any response to words and point taking other than lashing out this way?" She turned to Draco and said, in a stage whisper, "I think they might have problems with self-regulation, kind of like toddlers."
"That's quite enough," Madam Malkin said. "Madam, please…" she called out to Narcissa who appeared from behind a rack of clothing and eyed Potter and Weasley with disdain.
"Put your wands away. If you attack my son again I will make sure it is the last thing you ever do." She glanced at Hermione. "Assuming there's anything left of you after she's done."
"Really?" Potter walked up to Narcissa and stared her in the face. "Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in?"
Hermione stepped between the two as Madam Malkin squealed and gasped and sputtered at the mention of Death Eaters. "Tick tock, Potter. That blood ward's going to expire eventually."
Potter did not lower his wand though he took a step back. "Being Dumbledore's favorite has given you a false sense of safety," Narcissa said quietly, "but he won't always be around."
Potter made a show of looking around. "Gosh, he's not here now. Why don't you have a go at me? I bet they could find a nice double cell for you and your Death Eater husband in Azkaban."
"Don't speak to my mother like that," Draco hissed and took a step towards Potter, tripping on the hem Madam Malkin hadn't finished pinning up and stumbling off the platform and into Hermione.
Narcissa put a hand on his shoulder and the three of them stood there, facing down the two teenage boys who still had their weapons drawn. "It's quite all right, Draco," she said. "I suspect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius."
Harry raised his wand higher.
"Do you really want to do that, Potter?" Hermione whispered. "You really want to shoot a woman down because you don't like the way she spoke to you? Even Dumbledore can't protect you if you do that."
Narcissa watched Potter as he held his wand on her without moving. She might have been watching an uninteresting play at a theatre she'd gone to as a favor to a friend.
"I don't think I want these anymore," Draco said, stripping off the robes and tossing them to the floor.
"You're quite right," Narcissa said. "Now that we know who shops here, I think we'll be better served elsewhere."
She gestured toward the door and the three of them walked out, Draco managing to ram into Weasley as hard as he could as he passed.
Once outside, Narcissa took a deep breath. "I think," she said, "after that little altercation I might want a glass of wine before we go on to our next stop. Run off, you two, and do whatever illicit shopping you have in mind. Draco, no rings. Your father would be devastated if he were not there to take you ring shopping."
"Yes, Mum," Draco said, trying not to glower back at Madam Malkin's.
"I'll meet you at the restaurant," Narcissa said. "Hermione, keep him out of trouble."
"Yes, ma'am," Hermione said. "You can count on me."
Narcissa leaned forward and kissed Hermione lightly on one cheek. "I know, dear girl." She made a shooing motion with her hand. "Now, go. It doesn't take me that long to drink a single glass, so be quick about whatever it is you're doing."
Once Narcissa turned toward the restaurant and a glass of wine to settle her nerves, Hermione looked at Draco. "Borgin and Burkes?" she said and he nodded and the two of them set off, glancing back toward the robe shop to make sure they weren't being followed.
Once inside the shop, Hermione pointed at the cabinet and said, "That. We want that."
Mr. Borgin looked at her and said, his voice oily, "It's broken but perhaps I could interest that lady –"
"And we want it repaired," Draco added.
"If I knew how to repair it, Mr. Malfoy, I assure you it would be. But you can't repair just one half of a vanishing cabinet set. Let me –"
Draco slid his sleeve up, careful to keep his arm out of sight of any passers-by on the street and, looking at the Mark, Mr. Borgin swallowed hard. Hermione leaned against the counter and said, "We want it fixed, and we want you to keep it safe here, and we want you to forward us any information you find on repairing them."
"But, like I said," the man was starting to sweat, little beads of moisture at his hairline, and he was stammering out his refusal, "you just c-can't fix one half of a –"
"We have the other one, you idiot," Draco said. "That's why we want this one fixed."
"Y- yes. I… if you have the other one there are things I can try… "
"We'll take this necklace too," Draco said, pointing to a display of a cursed bit of jewelry.
"Draco," Hermione hissed. "That is not going to work; we've talked about this."
"And I still think you're wrong," he muttered as Mr. Borgin tried to hide how interested he was in this conversation.
"Fine," she said. "When it doesn't work, which it won't, you owe me a foot rub."
"What will you give me if I'm right?" Draco asked with a bit of a leer and she rolled her eyes.
"Dream on," she said. "Let's get back to your mother."
. . . . . . . . . . . .
When they settled into their train compartment to return to Hogwarts, there were so many of them it was crowded.
"Friends," Hermione said with a happy sigh as she sat down. Draco sat next to her, taking up far more than his fair share of space, and laid his head on her lap. She began running her fingers through his fine, pale hair marveling, as always, how each strand was translucent but when they layered onto each other they became the fair blond hair he was known for.
Greg sat across from them with Vincent, who'd pulled out a comic book and, slouching down, was losing himself in the adventures of a super hero and his villainous nemesis.
Millie squeezed in next to Greg, and Blaise shoved Draco's feet to the floor, sitting down next to him, pulling Luna onto his lap, and burying his face into her hair. Theo took one look at the full compartment and said, "I'll find someplace else. I like you people but not enough to sit on a lap."
Daphne, her hand tucked into his, laughed but said, "Shouldn't you be off doing prefect things, Draco?"
"I have other things to do this year," he said dismissively. Daphne and Hermione made quick eye contact before Daphne made a lewd gesture towards her mouth with her hand and both girls snickered. Greg swallowed a laugh and Vincent looked up, confused since he'd missed the whole thing.
"He wishes," Hermione said. "See you at school, Daph?"
"Absolutely," the other girl said as she and Theo waved and headed off to find another compartment.
They'd barely gotten themselves settled before a third-year girl opened the door and, before Draco could yell at her, thrust a scroll tied with ribbon towards Blaise. "I'm s-supposed to give this to you."
He took it from her with a word of thanks and a smile that made her blush and trip over her shoes on the way out. Once she was gone he opened it, groaned and, at Greg's curious look, tossed it over to the other boy.
"What is it?" Draco asked from his place on Hermione's lap.
"An invitation," Greg said. "Why would anyone want to have lunch with a teacher?"
"Power," said Hermione softly. When Greg looked at her she said, "He's making connections, I bet."
"But why Blaise?" Greg asked. "Why not Draco?"
"I do realize I'm not quite as close to wizarding royalty as his blondness over there," Blaise drawled, "but my mum is a fairly famous beauty."
"She is?" Greg asked and Hermione sighed.
"Yes, Greg," she said. "Elora Zabini is a celebrity."
"Wow," the boy said, looking at Blaise with wide eyes.
"Don't be that impressed," Blaise said with a snort. "All she is is pretty and conniving."
"Like you?" Luna suggested and he put his mouth on her neck and, as he nipped her with his teeth, she squeaked.
"I think I'll try to avoid her habit of marrying very wealthy men who, inevitably, tragically, develop some kind of fatal illness shortly after the wedding."
"Well, you don't like boys," Luna said logically and he bit her again.
"Find out what he's doing," Hermione suggested as Blaise rose to go.
He blew her a kiss. "I'll do that, principessa."
When he returned, the door to their compartment got stuck and wouldn't shut all the way and Blaise muttered, "What is wrong with this thing?" as he grabbed it and tried to force it closed. As he was slamming it repeatedly into whatever was jamming it open, the door suddenly flew open and Blaise was thrown into Greg's lap.
"Well, hi there," said Mille, giggling at him as he swore and sprung up. Luna stood up and managed to get the door closed while Draco stared at the seat she'd vacated as if he'd seen a ghost. Blaise got himself settled back into his own seat and pulled Luna back onto him. Vincent grunted in evident annoyance at the ruckus and flipped a page of his comic and Hermione went back to running her fingers through Draco's hair.
"How was it?" Hermione asked and Blaise snorted.
"He's a walking definition of sycophant, not that he found a lot of people to make up to." He looked at her. "I told him all about you. 'Brightest witch of our year', I said. The first Muggle-born sorted into Slytherin in centuries. I even told him you'd been doing Potions work with Snape. I expect you'll get an invitation to the next one."
"That wasn't nice," she said, sending a mock glower his way.
"Hey," Blaise said, slipping his fingers under Luna's shirt and resting them against her skin, "if I have to put up with that nonsense, so do you. You escaped having to do the Inquisitorial Squad last year –"
"As did you," she pointed out.
"– so now it's your turn to take one for the team."
"Who else was there?" Draco asked.
"Potter, of course," Blaise said. "McLaggen –"
"His father's big at the Ministry," Draco admitted.
"- Belby from Ravenclaw –"
"Really?" Millie wrinkled her nose.
"- and Longbottom and the Weasley girl."
"Longbottom?" Even Hermione sounded confused about that one.
"The Weasley girl?" Millie asked. "Why her?"
"She's pretty," Luna said.
"Not as pretty as you," Blaise said.
Draco sounded sullen and aggrieved as he muttered, "Maybe he didn't know I was on the train. I'm sure once we get to school – "
"I wouldn't count on it," Blaise cut him off. "He asked about Theo's father and as soon as I mentioned he'd been caught at the Ministry, he looked very unhappy. I don't think he wants anything to do with Death Eaters."
"But…" Hermione said and Draco shoved an elbow into her side and she stopped talking.
"Who cares what some old has-been thinks of me," Draco's voice had become clearer and louder, as if he wanted to make sure everyone understood every word he said. "Things are changing and who cares how many O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s you get? It's going to be all about –"
"Connections," Hermione cut him off. "And loyalty. Anyone who refuses to associate with… you know… will find themselves out in the cold." She glanced over at Blaise who puckered his lips and blew another kiss at her over Luna's shoulder.
"Keep me warm?" he suggested.
"You are such a lech," she muttered as Luna said, "The beds at Hogwarts are too small for three people."
As they pulled near to Hogwarts, they all stood up and started hauling their trunks down. There was a gasp as Greg yanked his down and Hermione and Draco exchanged a glance but didn't say anything as they began pulling on their school robes. When the train halted, Greg threw the door open and shoved his way out into the corridor, pushing some second years out of the way and gesturing with his arm for Millie to exit. Blaise and Luna also took advantage of the path he'd cleared and Vincent followed them. Hermione stopped at the door, looked at Draco, and said, "Don't make any mistakes."
He nodded and said, "I'll see you inside."
She slipped out the door and watched as he lowered the blind on the window.
. . . . . . . . . . .
When Draco joined her at the Sorting Feast, Hermione just raised her eyebrows and the boy smirked at her. She pressed herself up onto her toes and kissed him on the tip of his nose.
"Could you two try to not be so sickeningly cute all the damn time?" Pansy muttered as they found seats at their table.
"Sorry, Pans," Hermione said, leaning her head on Draco's shoulder.
"Looks like this year's new Defense teacher is a man again," Daphne said, pointing up at Slughorn with her fork. "Glad we're rid of Umbridge."
The first years were sorted and the Hat made more noises about working together in the face of a common enemy; noises all of Slytherin ignored. They were the common enemy as far as much of the school was concerned so there wasn't much point in paying even lip service to the idea of mutual cooperation. When Potter came in late, hauled by Snape and covered in blood, Greg looked at Draco and said, "What did you do?"
He mimed breaking the boy's nose and their section of the table laughed.
Vincent looked down the table. A girl with way too much black eyeliner was staring at him. "Daphne," he hissed. "Is that your little sister?"
Daphne looked down the table and sighed. "Yes," she muttered. "Do not encourage her."
"Why is she staring at me?" Vincent said nervously.
"Lord Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore was saying, and the whole Hall fell silent as he reassured them the castle was impregnable but that, just in case, they should follow any increased restrictions on their movements without complaint.
"Nothing like a threat to justify stripping people of even what few freedoms they have," Hermione muttered. Draco was just balancing his fork in the air above his plate, ignoring the speech.
When Slughorn was introduced as not the Defense teacher but as the new Potions teacher, Hermione looked up sharply at Snape. Dumbledore's confirmation that Professor Snape would be taking over the Defense position made her smile but pulled a clearly involuntary but very loud, "No!" from Potter.
"Manners clearly not big in his household," Theo observed as heads throughout the hall swiveled to look at the Chosen One.
"Nor common sense," Hermione said. "Remember last year with Umbridge? It's as if his goal is to antagonize everyone with the power to make his life unpleasant."
"No self-control," Theo agreed.
Hermione smiled at him. "Weaknesses are for exploiting."
"Indeed."
The first Defense Against the Dark Arts class could be politely described as interesting. Professor Snape didn't prevent Hermione from sitting with Draco this time though the warning look he shot her was clear. He'd hung grisly pictures along the wall and drawn the curtains turning what had been a terrifyingly cheery room filled with kittens and sunshine into a gloomy place with looming shadows.
Hermione thought of Tom Riddle, the epitome of Dark Arts, sitting in Narcissa's sunny breakfast room and had to suppress a smile as she reached down into her bag.
"I don't recall asking you to take out your book, Miss Granger," Snape said and she dropped it as fast as she could.
"You have had five instructors in this subject," Snape began, prowling around the room, "each less competent than the last. I am shocked that any of you managed to so much as pass your O.W.L.s, much less do well enough to begin N.E.W.T. level work. Nevertheless, here we are. Whether you will be able to keep up remains, of course, unknown though I have my doubts. I shall not enforce attendance; if you wish to, I believe the term is 'skiv off', and spare the rest of us your inept struggles, please do so."
The class stared at him in silence as he glowered at them. "The Dark Arts," he went on, "are not the simple little things you cretins have learned thus far. They are not creatures and charms. They are fluid and dynamic, ever-changing and indestructible. Darkness is part of magic and cannot be eradicated any more than you could have the day without the night. Darkness," he looked over the room, "is part of you."
Potter hissed in a breath and seemed about to speak when Snape went on.
"Therefore, if you wish to fight it, you must be as supple as darkness itself. You must be creative. You must be inventive." He took a deep breath and strode back toward his desk, his robes billowing like wings behind him. "We shall start with non-verbal spells. You are, I am sure, complete novices in this area. Who can tell me the advantage of wordless casting?"
Hermione shoved her hand into the air and Snape sighed.
"Must it always be your hand in the air, Miss Granger?" He looked around and when no one else seemed willing to hazard a guess he said, "Very well. Try to use small words, Miss Granger. I am not as impressed by your vocal excesses as some of your other professors."
"Because your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're going to perform, you have a split second advantage," she said.
"Quoted almost exactly from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," Snape sneered at her. "Correct, but also illustrating exactly the kind of hidebound, conservative thinking that will get you killed on a battlefield, Miss Granger. You do not need, in magic, to always follow the rules. You are a witch; make the rules."
She flushed and Draco sniggered at her side. Her sharp elbow to his ribs shut him up and he rubbed his side and glared at her.
"Not all wizards can do this, of course." Snape was glaring at Potter now. "It takes the ability to control your mind and focus your will. Divide into pairs and attempt to jinx your partner in silence as your partner attempts to repel the jinx, also in silence." He paused and when no one moved added, "It would be best if you started before class has ended."
With that, they all sprang to their feet and Hermione and Draco faced off against one another. Snape didn't know – or maybe he did – that all the Slytherins were quite competent in Shield Charms though the additional complication of silence meant it took her ten minutes to repel Draco's muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx. "You're cheating," she said with a grin. "You're supposed to not say it out loud at all, not just say it quietly."
"Harpy," he muttered. "You try it."
Snape was hovering over Weasley and Potter as they struggled to jinx and shield in silence. Weasley, predictably, was failing and Snape finally said, "You are pathetic, Weasley. Let me demonstrate."
He tossed a silent jinx at Potter who yelled out, "Protego." The whole class turned at the sudden shout and Snape, who'd been knocked into a desk by the force of the Shield Charm said, very quietly, "You do recall you are supposed to be practicing nonverbal shields, Potter?"
"Yes," the boy muttered.
"Yes, sir," Snape snapped.
"You don't have to call me 'sir', Professor," Potter said.
Hermione stepped back a few feet in shock as she sucked in her breath at the sheer and utter cheek; even she, who Snape adored, would never have dared speak to him that way. Draco wrapped an arm around her and waited, in obvious pleasure, for the response.
"Detention, Potter," the man said, his eyes glittering.
Potter scowled, but Hermione thought he'd gotten off rather lightly. Of course, her other mentor took even less kindly to sass than Professor Snape. Or so she assumed; she wasn't stupid enough to test him.
"Miss Granger," Snape said. "I will see you Thursday evenings. I do not intend to let your Potions work falter."
"Yes, sir," she said.
. . . . . . . . . .
The sixth year Slytherin boys sat around in Draco's room. Theo and Draco had shown off their Marks and, when Greg asked how much it had hurt to get, Theo had turned pale and Draco had momentarily looked like he was going to throw up.
"That bad, huh?" Blaise asked.
"Worse," Theo said shortly.
"And we're all going to have to do it," Greg said, swallowing hard.
They all stared at one another and then, eager to change the subject, Vincent reached into his trunk and pulled out a stack of magazines. "As requested," he said. "Muggle magazines."
Draco snatched one off the top and opened it. "The way they don't move is a little weird," he said. "Still…"
"Men's World." Theo read the title of one and opened it. "Vincent, you're a good man."
Greg held one out towards Blaise who said, "No, I'm good."
"Too posh for girlie mags?" Draco sneered and Blaise laughed.
"Have you met Luna?" he asked. "I'm not exactly going without and if I need wank material, well, trust me, she's provided plenty."
They all stared at him and he laughed again. "Sorry you sad bastards have girlfriends who –"
"Watch it," Theo said.
"Hey," Blaise held his hands up in apparent surrender. "Good girls, all of them. Following the quaint little pureblood codes about saving themselves. Very sweet. Very nice. I'll take my Luna, thanks."
Four boys glared at him with resentment and envy in their eyes before Greg broke the silence. "I'll take this one," he said, picking up a copy of Mayfair.
. . . . . . . . . .
A/N – Thank you, as always, for reading and sharing your thoughts on this.
Several people have questioned how Harry Potter, without Hermione's help, has survived thus far. Thanks to the machinations of Dumbledore, of course. As long as Dumbledore's alive to manage the game Potter will be fine. Beaten and starved by his miserable relatives but basically fine. As to how Dumbledore recognized the necklace: he is the most powerful wizard in the world with the possible exception of Riddle. Of course he can see through a complicated glamour.