Madam Umbridge Home for Wayward Girls

by A.Lovely.Villain

Hermione's life takes a dark turn after the death of her parents, leaving her at the mercy of a tyrannical Matron. Her new home is more prison than sanctuary, haunted by ghosts bearing terrible, bloody secrets. Though she's surrounded by troubled young women, it's the men in her life who teach her freedom comes at the greatest price of all. Victorian AU, Tomione, Dramione, no triad

14. Welcome to the Dollhouse

A/N: I created a playlist for this story on 8tracks… helped me overcome writer's block and figured I'd share in case anyone's interested.

8tracks [.com] /lovely-villain/wayward-girls

Thank you for all the love and support. I have the absolute best readers. Each of you is a shimmering moonbeam in a midnight forest.

And now for the longest chapter yet...

---

Do you suppose she's a wildflower?

. . .

The attendants opened the double doors and the volume of the crowd increased tenfold.

Hermione swayed on her feet as Harry led her into the main room, blinking rapidly at the explosion of sight and sound. There were so many people, so many faces, so many voices- it was sensory overload. She unconsciously pressed into Harry's side. His hand squeezed the wrist folded across his arm.

"You're the most beautiful woman here," he murmured into her ear.

She smiled, releasing a short laugh, some of the tension ebbing away.

"You're sweet, Harry. And clearly biased."

"Damn straight."

She met his glimmering emerald gaze, sharing his smirk.

Then his eyes flickered past her, drawn by something else, and his amusement faded.

A knot twisted inside her stomach. Anything or anyone that diminished Harry's happiness was her enemy, even before she laid eyes upon it.

She glanced to her other side, seeing nothing but more faces in the sea of guests.

"What are you looking at?" She tried to keep her voice low.

His jaw ticked as he averted his gaze sharply.

"Nothing."

Her brow furrowed as she felt the muscle beneath her hand stiffen. Something had obviously upset him but she decided to let the matter pass, for now, wanting to keep his focus on the positive.

"Do you see Sirius?"

He shook his head. "Though I usually hear him long before I get a visual."

She laughed, doing her utmost to ignore the bustling crowd, to dismiss the sensation of ants crawling across her skin, the perturbing symptom of watchful eyes.

To say she felt self-conscious would be a gross understatement.

She clutched Harry's arm with both hands to prevent from fidgeting with her skirts, her bodice, her hair. She couldn't stand being stared at, analyzed. From her peripheral, she saw men and women sneaking furtive glances her way.

She could only imagine what they were saying.

Arriving on the arm of one of the Guests of Honor certainly didn't do her any favors when it came to fading into the background.

Suddenly Ron stiffened before her, bouncing back on his heels and tugging his arm free from his sister's grasp.

"There she is." His voice held an edge of anxiety. He spun around, raking his fingers through his hair.

"How do I look?"

His blue eyes held such guileless desperation Hermione found herself swelling with emotion until she was fit to burst. She released Harry and stepped forward, smoothing a hand over the redhead's lapels comfortingly.

"You look absolutely dashing, Ron."

His shoulders relaxed. She smiled.

"If she's not swept off her feet at the mere sight of you she doesn't deserve your company in the first place."

The corner of his mouth tipped up.

"You're the best, Mione."

He leaned forward to peck her on the cheek but Ginny's hand shot out and caught his arm just in time, pulling him back.

"We're not at home, Ron! If you kiss Hermione you might as well drop to one knee and propose!"

He flushed brightly. Hermione bit back laughter bubbling inside her throat.

"It's alright, Ron, I'll be making far worse faux pas before the night is through."

"You're dead set on cursing yourself," Harry muttered from behind her, still looking frightfully distracted.

Ron cleared his throat, nerves drawn tight. "Alright, well, I'm off, wish me luck." He started to back away but then glanced at Ginny and stopped short.

"Er…"

She rolled her eyes.

"Get out of here, Casanova. I'll be fine."

He glanced at Harry.

"Keep an eye on her?"

"I'm not a dog, Ronald. I can take care of myself just f-"

"We'll all keep an eye on each other," Hermione interjected, resting her hand on Ginny's shoulder. "Go ahead, Ron. And good luck." She winked, prompting Ron to nod in relief before spinning on his heal and cutting a quick path through the opulent room.

Hermione couldn't help but perch on her toes, trying to gaze over the heads of milling guests to glimpse the mysterious woman who'd managed to enrapture her best friend in such a short time.

Harry told her the truth about Susan during his visit to the Home- that he met her at the opium den in McLaggen's company, a detail he was still keeping from Ron in light of the current circumstances. Hermione agreed it was better to let Susan confess the truth herself, and selfishly, Hermione hoped the woman would stay in their lives long enough to help further the investigation.

But Hermione's love for Ron surpassed even her burning desire to seek justice. If their relationship proved toxic in anyway, or Susan was leading Ron on for her own nefarious purposes, Hermione held no qualms about expelling the woman from all their lives. By force if necessary.

As she searched the sea of pretty faces and lavish dresses in search of Ron's beloved, she instead became ensnared by a gleaming silver gaze that rendered her breathless.

She sank back on her heels, heart beating through her chest.

Draco stood at the other end of the room, dressed in an impeccable charcoal suit that paired magnificently with the dark violet of his date's dress.

Astoria hung off his arm, smiling and laughing, a radiant sight to behold. Her dark hair was woven into an intricate braid crown, a lavender rose pinned to the side.

Hermione swallowed thickly, eyes quickly roaming the other woman's lithe figure.

The dress conveyed royalty. Though in truth, she looked more like a goddess, Aphrodite come to life. But the rose… the rose…

Love at first sight.

Familiar pain lanced through her chest. She set her shoulders back and brought her gaze to the tall blonde. Beside Astoria, he appeared the impeccable aristocrat his lineage denoted. They cut such a beautiful image her hands began to shake.

Draco had yet to look away, to even blink. His eyes bore into hers from across the room, slowly tracing every line of her body from top to bottom, rendering her frozen in abject misery.

His irises seemed to glow, or perhaps it was merely a trick of the light as the rest of the room became hazy, only his face in stunning clarity. His jaw ticked, a crease forming between his pale brows, only to give way to a mask of blank indifference as another body stepped in front of him, blocking his face from view.

The river of white blonde hair situated between a set of broad shoulders made her entire body tense.

Lucius Malfoy stepped aside and Draco reappeared, though his gaze was averted away from where she stood. The Malfoy patriarch leaned in close, whispering something in his son's ear that only seemed to agitate Draco further.

And then, in the next heart-stopping moment, Lucius's gaze shot up and locked with hers.

Her blood froze in her veins, lungs compressing. She couldn't breathe, couldn't blink, couldn't look away-

The corners of his lips turned down, face creasing into a map of disdain. Heat tore through her body, an inborn humiliation that bubbled to the surface and seeped out of every pore.

At that moment, trapped beneath his penetrating stare, she couldn't hide from the truth.

She was an imposter. A stain on an otherwise flawless tapestry. A scratch on the crystal. Unworthy to share the same air.

And above all else, unworthy of his son's affection.

Suddenly a waiter walked by and obscured the Malfoy men from view. She took the brief reprieve to inhale sharply, starved for oxygen. By the time the waiter moved Lucius was staring at his son once more, clapping him on the back before striding away in the opposite direction, leaving Draco openly fuming in his wake.

Hermione jolted as a hand grazed her arm.

"Mione?"

She blinked rapidly, spinning around to face her friends, Harry's touch falling away.

"Sorry. Thought I saw someone I recognized."

He raised a dark brow. "Oh. I thought you were staring at Malfoy."

She scowled. "Keep your voice down!"

He rolled his eyes but fell silent while Hermione blushed every shade of red.

"I need a drink."

"I second that!" Ginny groaned, gazing around the room with obvious anxiety.

"If we all start drinking now I predict terrible things for the future of our evening." Harry snagged two champagne flutes off a passing tray. "But with any luck, we'll be too drunk to remember any of it."

"It's moments like this I forget you didn't spring from my own loins."

Hermione's face split into an uncontrollable grin as she spun around, periwinkle silk fluttering.

"Sirius!"

"Kitten." His smile matched her own as he reached for her hand.

She threw social decorum to the wind and sprung forward, ensnaring him in a hug that he returned with a deep chuckle.

"You look breathtaking, luv. I'm going to have to murder half the idiots here tonight just for the way they're staring at you."

She shook her head, leaning back. "There are so many things wrong with that statement my brain is stalling out on where to begin correcting you."

"Think on it and get back to me, I'll be the bloke dancing on the bartop in an hour."

She laughed, the tension from moment's ago melting away instantly. He released her, glancing to the redhead lingering behind.

"Gin, aren't you the vision. Get over here, lass."

She stepped forward with a laugh, extending her hand for Sirius to kiss. He did so with an exaggerated flourish, eyes flickering up as he held her fingers.

"What do you say we cause a real scene and I spin you about like old times?"

Ginny's blue eyes flashed with rebellious intrigue, lips curling into a wicked grin.

"Absolutely not!" Hermione interjected, glancing beside her. "Harry! Tell Sirius he is free to incite scandal surrounding his own reputation but he is to leave Ginny out of it."

Yet it seemed Harry was deeply preoccupied with draining the champagne flute in a single convulsive swallow, the second glass empty in his other hand. She sighed, shaking her head as Sirius's bark of laughter echoed around them.

"Now it's impossible to tell he isn't mine."

"Harry," she whispered, sidling closer. "Is everything-"

"I'm fine, Mione." He lowered the glass, licking his lips. "Just marvelous."

She blinked, drawing back. Something was clearly amiss but she couldn't work out if it was simply nerves or something else. She wanted nothing more than to get to the bottom of the mystery, but she knew this was not the best time to do so.

"Alright." She turned away with great reluctance. "Sirius, congratulations on your promotion to Admiral. It's well deserved. I'm so proud of you."

He flashed a dazzling smile, the kind that made women of every age group weak in the knees, or so Hermione had been told, always viewing the man as an Uncle herself.

"That's sweet of you, Kitten, but I think we all know I only got to the top by-"

"I'm going to stop you there and remind you that Ginny's present."

"Hey! I'm only a year younger than you!"

Hermione nodded. "Exactly. I'm older and wiser."

Harry flagged down a waiter and set the empty glasses on the tray, reaching for another. Hermione flashed a worried glance at Sirius, who winked at her and stepped beside his godson, throwing an arm over his shoulder and steering him away from the tray.

"Pace yourself, my boy. You drown your sorrows in booze and you're likely to wake up the Admiral of Her Majesty's Royal War Fleet."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"You are not giving me a lecture on vices."

"Of course not. That sounds terribly boring. But I will remind you at least one of us needs to not make a complete fool of themselves tonight, and you know my record is o for sixty, so all the responsibility falls to you I'm afraid."

"Lovely."

Sirius clapped him on the back, much in the same manner Lucius had done to Draco, and the contrasting dynamic between parent and child was stunning to her eyes. She harbored no doubt Lucius loved his only child, but that love was so rigid in comparison to the warmth shared between Harry and his godfather. Even their tense moments were blanketed in affection.

Hermione suddenly thought of her own father. His warm brown eyes and easy smile. She swallowed thickly, clearing her throat to dislodge the sudden obstruction.

"Oh- Harry?"

They all turned to face the new voice.

"Neville!" Sirius shouted, releasing his godson to instead throw his arm around the nervous looking young man's neck, drawing him into their cluster. "I haven't seen you in a dog's age, how have you been?"

He blinked rapidly, smiling despite his obvious unease. "Oh, um, I'm good. Congratulations on your new rank, by the way." He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes flickered to the girls. "Hey, Gin. You look great." He blushed. "I mean, you look lovely."

She laughed. "Thanks, Nev."

He smiled, eyes moving to Hermione...

...and widening to comical proportions.

"Her-Hermione?"

She couldn't help but giggle.

"I'm afraid so."

His blush deepened to feverish proportions. Sirius and Harry exchanged smirks.

"Wow. You look… different." He blinked rapidly. "That didn't- I mean, you look really nice, you always look nice, but tonight you look-"

"It's alright, Neville." She held up a calming hand. "I understand. This definitely isn't something I wear around the market."

"Right." He laughed, high and nervous. "I didn't know you were coming tonight."

"I'm Harry's date."

Neville swallowed once more. "Oh. I didn't know you were… I mean, that's great." He glanced at Harry. "Congratulations, mate."

Harry held his gaze a full beat before bursting into deep laughter, grabbing his side. Sirius and Ginny quickly followed suit. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"It's not that funny."

Harry sucked in a breath. "It's pretty funny."

She rolled her eyes, glancing back to a painfully confused Neville.

"We aren't together, Nev. We're just here together. As friends."

The man's shoulders seemed to ease. Hermione blinked, sudden dread seizing her. Before she could reflect on the possible revelation she caught sight of a familiar shock of red hair approaching from behind the boys.

"Er… hey everyone." Ron looked stiff and awkward as he escorted a pretty brunette forward. "Oh, hi, Nev."

Neville turned around and smiled.

"Hey, Ron!"

Ron placed a hand on the girl's lower back.

"I'd like for you all to meet Susan Bones."

She smiled brightly, albeit a bit nervously as well. "Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you all."

Hermione noticed her body stiffen as her gaze landed on Sirius.

"She came by Grimmauld to tell me about Lavender," Harry had relayed. "The family thought I was secretly courting her."

Sirius winked.

"The pleasure is all ours, Ms. Bones. Please, allow me to introduce myself." He stepped forward, grabbing her hand. "Sirius Black."

He kissed her fingers. She visibly deflated in relief. Ron didn't seem to notice anything amiss.

"You've already met Harry at the party, this is Gin, my sister." Ginny smiled sweetly even as her eyes roamed the woman from bottom to top with careful precision. "This is my old schoolmate Nev." Neville nodded politely. "And this is Mione. Er, Hermione."

Susan's smile wavered as their gazes met.

"It's great to finally meet you, Susan. Ron speaks so highly of you."

The other woman blinked, posture easing further.

She knows Harry told me everything.

"He speaks highly of you as well, I've been looking forward to finally being able to put a face with the name."

Hermione's earlier fears started to split at the seems. Susan seemed genuine enough, and Hermione never sought to knowingly prolong another's suffering.

The sound of shattering glass drew all their focus to the bar. Nearby conversations tapered off as heads turned.

Hermione saw Susan take a step back as Cormac McLaggen came into view, leaning heavily against the bartop as he shouted drunkenly at a waiter.

"What the bloody hell is that arsehole doing here?"

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed.

"What? He is an ars-"

"We get the point, mate." Harry's eyes remained fastened on Cormac.

Meanwhile, Susan faded a deathly pale. Hermione's natural instinct to protect took hold. She barely knew the girl, but she was important to Ron, and therefore Hermione felt some vested interest in her well being.

"Ron, why don't you ask Susan to dance?"

He blinked, cheeks coloring red. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh come off it, you can't expect to not dance with her on your first date, at a party no less?"

"I'm a shite dancer!" He hissed, glancing at the girl in question.

Hermione sighed.

"I know."

Ron looked at her sharply. "What the hell is that? You're supposed to tell me I'm not that bad! Or that there's more to romance than dancing ability or some shite."

She smirked. "It warms my heart you think so highly of my advice. But you clearly don't need me to say what you already know."

She tipped her head toward the dance floor at the center of the room, the band on stage above playing an upbeat tempo.

"Now go ask her to dance before someone else beats you to it. You aren't her official date for the evening and you know how high born males can get when they have enough drink in them."

Ron swallowed, inhaling deeply. "Christ. I can't believe I'm going to humiliate myself in front of everyone."

She patted his arm. "It's alright. Your friends already know you can't dance for shite. And we love you anyway. Consider this a test of her devotion."

He rolled his eyes even as he drew back, sidling closer to Susan.

Hermione turned away to afford the pair some privacy, and her eyes landed on the coif of white blonde hair that seemed to draw her eyes like a magnet.

Draco stood by the glass doors of the back garden. His eyes held her in a hypnotic trance as he tilted his head, gesturing to the exit and then slipping through it, disappearing from sight.

She released a breath.

Don't even think about it, Hermione.

She turned to face her friends. Ron and Susan made their goodbyes and departed for the dancefloor.

"Looks like he's got a pole up his arse," Harry muttered, watching Ron escort her stiffly through the crowd.

Hermione wrung her hands together. Harry glanced at her. "You alright?"

She blinked. "Yes. Why?"

"You didn't scold me just now."

"Scold you for what?"

He raised a dark brow. Neville cleared his throat and took a half step closer.

"Er… Hermione, would you like to-"

"I need some air," she said suddenly, so consumed by her thoughts she didn't even hear him speak. Neville quickly stepped back into his previous place, blushing profusely.

"I'm going to head to the gardens for a few minutes."

"You can't go out there alone, poppet," Sirius said. "Even I know that."

She sighed. Damn all these social constraints.

Harry stepped towards her. "I'll take y-"

Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You stay with Gin, I'll take her."

Hermione bit her lip, wondering which of the two men would be less of a hassle to shake so she could get some blessed privacy.

"Come on, kitten." He held his arm out to her. She took it with a forced smile.

"I'll be back soon." Yet the only one staring at her was Neville, in such a way that twisted her heart. She faced forward once more, allowing Sirius to escort her through the crowd.

"Thank you, Sirius, but honestly, you don't have to come outside with me. This is your party-"

"This is Her Majesty's party, a chance to show off England's Naval strength with fancy music and champagne so the elite feels they have some part in it despite never getting their hands dirty."

She blinked.

"Oh… right."

"And don't worry, as soon as we get outside I'll turn you loose to your ferret. Just make sure you leave enough room between yourselves for Jesus."

She tripped over her feet, his arm keeping her steady. "What?"

He smirked. "I didn't get the title Admiral without taking notice of my surrounds, luv. Little Drake's been watching you from the moment you arrived, and I saw him give you the signal just before he slipped out."

She swallowed heavily but didn't see any judgment in his eyes or hear it in his voice. There was no point in trying to deny it now, and she hadn't the mental fortitude necessary to even make the attempt.

"It's not…" she wet her lips. "It isn't like that."

He raised a brow. "Like what?"

She rolled her eyes at his coy smirk. "You know what. We aren't going to do anything sordid. We're just going to talk."

"So that's what the kids are calling it these days."

Hermione sighed. "We haven't been… together in some time." She blushed, remembering their heated encounter at Kew and later inside Amortentia. "Well, we've-"

"Alright, kitten, I appreciate you wanting to confide in me, and you know you can come to me for most anything." He patted her hand. "But if you start telling me about Malfoy putting his greedy little hands on you I'm liable to cut them off at the wrists, which will cause Lucius to bring the wrath of Parliament down upon my head and induce all types of headaches I do my best to avoid."

He smiled. "But if that blonde idiot does anything to upset you, and I mean anything at all, you come see me right away. I will personally see to it that his bullocks are removed from his person, no matter his father's reach."

She couldn't contain the fit of giggles that overtook her.

"Fair enough."

They pushed open the glass doors.

"Alright, luv. You go have fun. Just not too much fun. I'll be over here enjoying a cigar when you're ready to go back inside."

She smiled, squeezing his arm gently before releasing it. "Thank you, Sirius."

He winked, reaching into the silk lining of his coat and extracting a wrapped cigar.

Hermione took a deep breath, turning to face the garden milling with men and women. She saw a flash of blonde hair in the far distance, near the fountain, and swallowed heavily, glancing down at her dress. Her hands smoothed along the branches on the bodice.

"Kitten."

She glanced over her shoulder.

Sirius smirked, flipping open his gold lighter. "You look beautiful."

The tension expelled with her next breath.

She smiled, turning forward with her shoulders back, and started up the path towards the fountain.

---

Draco sighed deeply, grabbing a flute of champagne off a nearby tray and handing it to Astoria. She blinked, staring at the offering for several beats before accepting.

"Thank you…" she held it delicately, as though expecting it to grow teeth and bite her at any moment. He rolled his eyes.

"Christ, you saw me take it off the tray, when would I have had time to poison it?"

She smirked. "I'm just surprised you didn't grab one for yourself. I assume there must be something wrong with it if you're not drinking."

He raised a pale brow. "I never said that." He gestured to the waiter. "Bring me a scotch on the rocks."

The man nodded, disappearing into the crowd.

"Ah. Now the world makes sense again." She took a dainty sip, her other hand still wrapped around his upper arm.

Draco tilted his head, trying to alleviate the tension in his neck.

"How much longer do we have to stand like this?"

"Another twenty minutes at least, then we're free to wander at leisure." She raised a manicured brow. "Or in your case, make a beeline for the exit."

His jaw tensed. "I'm not going to abandon you here, Tori."

"Of course not, Granger hasn't arrived yet."

He blinked, gazing down at her sharply, but she continued to glance about the room, seemingly at ease.

"Did you bring the manuscript?"

"It's in the carriage."

He nodded. "Good."

She swirled the champagne in her glass, staring at the bubbles. "Why did you have me bring it?"

"You'll see."

"I hate mysteries."

He laughed without humor. "You're a woman."

Her nose twitched, eyes narrowing. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're a living, breathing mystery."

Her head tilted as she gazed at his profile. "I can't tell whether to be flattered or offended."

"If you're on the fence I suggest going with the former, lord knows I insult you enough without trying."

She shook her head, taking another sip of her beverage.

Draco sighed in relief as the waiter arrived a moment later with his drink order. He accepted the low ball glass with an appreciative nod, relishing the burn down the back of his throat with the first swallow, warmth pooling in his stomach, spreading out through his limbs, a blissful reprieve from his hellish surroundings.

Present company excluded. Astoria was actually ideal company to keep in such situations. She always knew just what to say to the idiots who sidled up to them, desperate to converse, eager to get into Peerage good graces. She always dismissed the interlopers with such casual grace the fools hardly realized they'd been redirected until they were halfway across the room.

She'd spared Draco from having to make trivial small talk at least a dozen times over since their arrival. Their exchanges with one another had been limited but painless, which was as much of a compliment as he was capable of extending this evening, nerves stretched taught.

He took another deep swig of liquor.

And then the main doors were opening at the other end of the room, conversations tapering off and heads turning, socialites eager to get an eyeful of each guest as they arrived, the gossip mills in full swing.

He tilted his head at the matching set of red hair that emerged.

"Bloody hell," he tilted his head the other way, as though the change in angle would reveal some new detail. "Did Weasley bring his own sister as a date? Christ, I know no woman will have him but this is desperate even for him."

"Draco," Astoria hissed, unamused. "That's terribly rude, keep your voice down."

He peered down at her. "Are you telling me you condone such behavior, Miss Greengrass?"

She rolled her eyes at his mocking tone. "I hardly think this announces his intent to marry his sister, idiot." She shifted, glancing away. "Though it is a bit lacking in decorum."

He smirked. "Lacking in decorum? What a filthy mouth you have, Greengrass."

She shook her head, fighting back a smile. Then her eyes widened.

"Oh my."

He blinked, gazing ahead. "Wha-"

And then stopped short, jaw hanging open as the second couple slowly entered the room.

His breath left him in one fell swoop, grip tightening on the glass until it threatened to shatter beneath his hand.

Hermione stood beside Potter, but the dark-haired idiot was rendered invisible to Draco's gaze.

He saw nothing but her.

She was… perfect.

Absolutely beautiful. Adorned in silk that hugged her narrow waist and accentuated her hips, shoulders bare and sleeves fluttering behind her. Her hair was up, exposing the pale column of her neck. Her skin looked like fresh cream, flawless and smooth. His fingers tightened once more of the glass, desperate to touch the soft expanse of flesh.

His teeth ground together as Potter escorted her deeper into the crowd and she disappeared behind the gaping red headed fool and his sister.

Draco swallowed thickly, breaking from his trance. He peered down at Astoria, desperate for some distraction, only to be rendered mute once again. She appeared similarly transfixed, perching on her toes to follow their path, sagging in disappointment as they disappeared from view.

He tilted his head, eyes carefully cataloging every nuance of her expression.

What he discovered was deeply unsettling.

Fucking hell.

"Tori."

She blinked, eyes darting up, a delicate blush staining her cheeks.

He opened his mouth but found he couldn't find the words to broach this disturbing topic succinctly.

Before he could dwell on the subject a couple sidled up beside them, recognizable even from the corner of his eye thanks to the female half of the duo's outrageous outfit.

Draco turned to face the newcomers with a scowl.

"Jesus, Pans, aren't you supposed to wear the cages under your dress?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Bloody hell. Men." She flashed both him and Theo an annoyed look before releasing the latter's arm to adjust the golden hoop skirt that hung from her narrow waist, suspended over her deep sapphire skirts. "It's not a cage, idiot. It's decoration."

Draco shook his head, taking another drink and glancing back to where he'd last seen Granger.

"I think it's marvelous," Tori said, leaning forward to brush a fingertip over the filigree detail. "I've never seen anything like it."

"There's a reason for that," Theo said, cringing as Pansy pinched his arm in retaliation.

"It's the latest design from Paris. Lord knows we haven't had any fashion innovations here since that dowdy nun took power."

"I believe that's treason, Pans."

"Spare me, Draco. I'm sure far worse things are said in the House of Lords on a daily basis."

"Attacking her politics is one thing, attacking her looks is another beast entirely."

"That's true," Theo interjected, glancing about the venue with little interest. "Women are much more sensitive about their appearance."

"You're kidding, right?" Astoria raised a dark brow. "She's a queen! She has far more important things to worry about than her wardrobe!"

Pansy signaled to a waiter holding a tray of champagne.

"She has an entire team of people devoted to worrying about her wardrobe for her. There's no excuse."

Astoria shook her head even as a reluctant smile broke through.

Draco was about to take another drink when a gap appeared in the crowd and a familiar flash of periwinkle silk caught his eye. He followed the line of fabric up until her face emerged. She was perched on her toes, peering through the sea of guests, eyes searching for something-

His heart lurched in his chest as her eyes swept in his direction, holding his breath until that moment when the ground shook and the earth tore open.

Her eyes met his, and she froze.

The rest of the room fell away, every face, every voice, every tinkling glass. All that existed was her and the endless expanse of time and space between them.

His eyes carefully roamed her figure, cataloging every detail, storing it in his brain to revisit on the lonely nights that surely awaited his future.

The thought pained him to no end. That he couldn't just go to her, couldn't declare his feelings publically.

A lot of good that would do. Even if you could have her, she wouldn't have you.

The pain sharpened tenfold.

And then a hand was clapping his shoulder, pulling him violently from his musings. The world came crashing back around him in stunning clarity, lights and noise exploding against the inside of his skull.

"Draco, there you are."

His father's voice put him on high alert. He looked away from Hermione, praying his father hadn't noticed the direction of his unwavering focus. He felt Astoria stiffen beside him as well, her hand gripping his arm tighter as Theo and Pansy drew back a half step.

"Miss Greengrass, Miss Parkinson, don't you both look stunning this evening."

The girls sank into demure curtsies, picture-perfect smiles adorning their faces, eyes hollow.

"Draco." His father leaned in, voice low. "Be on your best behavior tonight. Remember that you represent much more than just yourself." A heavy pause. "It won't do to have any distractions getting in the way of your bright future. Do I make myself clear?"

Draco's only response was to grind his teeth together, shrugging his shoulder to dislodge the man's grip. His father pulled away with a bright smile, as though that were exactly the response he'd been hoping to elicit, and patted him on the back.

His gaze flickered to Theo and Pansy. "As I understand it, congratulations are in order. I hear that the official announcement will be made soon."

Pansy gripped her champagne flute so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"Thank you for the good wishes, Lord Malfoy." Theo's face was void of emotion. "And yes, our families are planning the announcement and engagement party as we speak."

Lucius nodded. "Excellent. There's no better cause for celebration than two of the most powerful and well-respected families in the British Empire uniting through love."

Both couples shifted awkwardly. Draco pulled at his silk cravat, feeling suffocated. His father chuckled under his breath.

"Excellent, well I'll leave you young ones to it. Enjoy your evening."

The other three bid him a polite farewell while Draco continued to try and alleviate the pressure on his airway.

Pansy released a slow breath, shoulders dropping.

"He terrifies me more than my own father, and that's really saying something."

Theo grabbed the flute from her weak grasp and drained the contents in one gulp.

"My father is still the scariest," he said, licking the moisture from his top lip.

Tori shifted at Draco's side. "I think mine can go head to head with Lord Nott."

Theo raised a dark brow. "Wanna bet?"

"Enough," Draco bit out, earning surprised glances from all of them. He sighed, glancing at Astoria. "Come on, there's someone I want you to meet."

She blinked. "Who?"

"Yes, who?" Pansy asked, leaning in, eyes sparkling with intrigue.

Draco grasped his date by the hand and tugged her away from the other couple without a backward glance or parting farewell.

He wasn't surprised Theo made no allusion to their previous fight. They'd been trading barbs since they were children, brushing aside the fallen debris and resuming their turbulent friendship without ever addressing past transgressions.

But he couldn't bear to linger in their presence another moment. Their pending nuptials reminded him of the blade swinging above his own head. He was Damocles, living on borrowed time, one hair's breadth away from being skewered through the middle.

"Who are we meeting with, Draco?"

He sighed once more, scanning the crowd, focusing upon the last place he'd seen them.

"My Aunt."

Astoria drew back, hand clenching.

"What?"

His jaw ticked as he continued to search the room.

"Not that Aunt…" his gaze found its target. "That one." He gestured with his head, smirking. "Her husband owns a publishing house, we're going to give them your manuscript. Also, speaking to Andy pisses my father off royally. It's a win-win."

He started to lead her forward but she dug in her heels.

"Draco, wait!" She hissed. He blinked, peering over his shoulder. She bit her lip. "I didn't know… I didn't expect to talk about my work- I haven't prepared what to say."

He rolled his eyes. "You aren't walking the stage tonight, Tori. This is a casual conversation. Besides, they're the type of people who prefer genuiness, if you delivered a polished speech it would only turn them off." He tugged gently at her arm. "Come on."

She continued to worry her bottom lip as she reluctantly followed in his wake.

"If my father finds out-"

"He won't."

She swallowed audibly. "If your father finds out-"

Draco squeezed her fingers. "He won't, Tori."

She finally fell silent, walking closely at his back as he navigated them through the crowd. People glanced their way with obscene smiles, eyes bright as they tried to catch his eye. Draco kept his focus forward, the force of his gaze attracting his Aunt's attention. She was standing next to her husband among a small group, everyone laughing at some anecdote.

Upon seeing her nephew's approach she squeezed her husband's elbow and gestured with her head. She whispered something to him before slipping past the group and meeting him halfway.

"Draco," she uttered with a genuine smile as soon as they were within earshot. "Don't you look marvelous tonight." Her gaze shifted. "And who is this beautiful young woman?"

Astoria dipped into a perfect curtsy.

"Astoria Greengrass, Mistress Tonks, a pleasure to meet you."

Andy nodded, her smile transforming into a smirk upon seeing such pristine manners.

"I thought you looked familiar. You have your mother's eyes."

Astoria blinked, shoulders relaxing.

"You knew my mother?"

"Of course, we went to finishing school together. Such a beautiful woman, inside and out. I was very sorry to hear of her passing. My condolences to you and your sister."

Astoria nodded. "That is very kind of you to say."

Andy's eyes shifted once more, head tilting as she gazed up at Draco.

"So was I correct in assuming you crossed the great expanse to speak with your dear old Aunt?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "The last time I called you old you beat me with a mop."

Her laughter echoed like tinkling bells. "I believe I forced you to mop, my dear. Though I'm sure in your mind that's just as bad."

He shook his head without any ire. Andy was impossible to be at odds with, her every breath exuding easy affection, even for the nephew she was barely allowed to see throughout the majority of his life.

"Alright, what's going on? I can tell you're on a mission."

His nose twitched. She also had a keen intuition that rivaled even his mother's. All the Black sisters were practical mind readers, their ability to determine when he was hiding something bordering on the supernatural.

"I just came to bid you a good evening."

"Mm-hm." She raised a dark brow, the gesture transforming her face into a reflection of her elder sister, making his heart skip a beat before the edges of her expression softened once more. "And if I ask Astoria will she feed me the same poppycock?"

Astoria clapped a hand over her mouth to smother a giggle. Draco sighed, jaw flexing.

"Alright, we came to speak with you and Ted about an amazing new book, we want to give you first publishing rights."

She tipped her head back, laughing anew. "Is that so?"

Draco grinned, confidence exuding from every pore as he stood at his full height. "Yes, it is."

Her expression sobered. "Alright, I'll bite. Who's the author?"

"You're looking at her."

Astoria went rigid at his side, a brittle reed set to blow away at the next gust of wind. Andy's eyes widened a fraction as she brought her focus to his companion.

"You wrote a book?"

Astoria blushed deeply, mouth opening and closing. Draco gave her a nudge, seeming to break her panicked daze.

"I- yes, Ma'am."

Andy smiled. "Now this is interesting." Her eyes roamed Astoria from bottom to top with much more precision than before. "We don't have many female authors signed, we've been looking for more to add. What's the genre?"

Astoria cleared her throat lightly. "It's a mystery thriller."

Draco blinked, gaping down at her. "It's a what?"

She peered back, expression annoyed, as though she didn't appreciate him invading their private conversation.

"You heard me."

Andy laughed. Draco ignored her, still staring at Astoria as though she'd grown a second head.

"You wrote a thriller?"

"Don't look so shocked. What, you assumed it was a romantic comedy?"

He shrugged. "A tragic romance perhaps."

She rolled her eyes, peering at the woman across from them once more.

"My mother used to read Wilkie Collins to my sister and me when we were little. I've always had a passion for mystery."

Andy nodded, the wheel's visibly turning behind her eyes. "It's a popular genre, to be certain. Even more so now that Arthur Conan Doyle is on the scene. His newest novel is practically flying off the shelves. Though there's certainly a need for female writers in the genre. The only one who comes to mind is Catherine Pirkis."

Astoria nodded, eyes bright. "She's brilliant. I'm also a fan of Anna Katharine Green."

"The American writer?"

"Yes. My sister's fiance managed to procure some of her works for me while abroad with the military."

Andy eyed her speculatively. "Your family is supportive of your writing then?"

Astoria wilted before their eyes.

"I thought as much." Andy leaned forward, eyes warm. "Families can be total shite sometimes, my dear. Don't let it discourage you."

Astoria blinked several times before erupting into indelicate laughter, releasing Draco's arm to grip her side. Draco smirked at the sight before addressing his Aunt.

"We have the manuscript in the carriage. Even if you don't decide to publish I'd like for you to print a professional copy for her to send out to other publishing houses. I'll cover the expenses."

Both women gazed upon him intently, Andy with brimming curious and Astoria with such heartfelt emotion he couldn't bear to look at her. His Aunt held his unwavering gaze a moment longer before smiling.

"We'd be happy to, darling." She looked back to Astoria. "I'd like to introduce you to my husband, he must meet the new up and coming female novelist."

Astoria blushed anew. "I'd be honored."

Draco felt his chest ache as his eyes caught a flash of blue in the distance. It was merely a stranger's dress, the coloring all wrong, but it set his heart aflame just as well.

"While you get better acquainted with the Tonks I'm going to take a quick stroll through the garden."

Astoria nodded absently, thoughts obviously preoccupied. Andy met his gaze.

"Thank you for introducing us, Draco."

Her tone held an underlying firmness that gave him pause. She smiled knowingly.

"I think Astoria and I will have much to discuss."

His heart leaped into his throat. He swallowed it back down.

"I hope so."

She nodded, effectively dismissing him as she escorted his date to the group in which Ted still stood. Draco watched them walk away for another prolonged beat before making his way to the garden exit, racing thoughts scattering as his mind became fixated upon one thing only...

He lingered at the doors, facing the room, eyes darting rapidly across the sea of faces.

And then that familiar, magnetic force drew his gaze to where she stood. She was standing in a group, laughing and smiling, utterly beguiling in her radiant innocence. Light pulsated from her very being, an aura that drew the gazes of every man around her. He stole glances for several moments more until he watched her spine straighten, shoulders stiffen, head dart to either side as her eyes scanned the crowd.

She met his gaze once more and time stood still. He drew in a slow, steady breath before tilting his head to the doors, forcing himself to break their shared gaze as he slipped outside.

He cut a determined path across the garden, confident her burning curiosity would outweigh even her stubbornness.

He adjusted his diamond-studded cufflinks for idle distraction as he arrived at the grand fountain, waiting on the girl he'd spent half his life wanting.

---

Harry was having a piss-poor evening.

He'd strongly suspected this would be the general direction of his night, though he'd certainly kept himself open for the possibility of something slightly less awful. Ever the optimist.

But the moment they'd entered the grand ballroom and his eyes fell upon the sight of his former lover and his former lover's current fiance, the bottom promptly dropped out.

Which really left him with only one option.

Alcohol.

Lots and lots of alcohol.

As soon as his godfather escorted Mione towards the garden he'd grabbed another flute from a passing try. He justified his avid thirst by telling himself it was only champagne, mostly bubbles really. It wasn't like he was pounding pure whiskey.

Though that was certainly next on his list because it seemed his eyes couldn't stop searching out the familiar contours of a body he knew better than his own.

Theo was everywhere he looked, a living shadow cast from one wall to the next in the space of a heartbeat.

Or maybe Harry's heartbreak finally spread to his mind. Perhaps this deeply seeded ache was truly a disease, festering and growing until it consumed him whole.

"I'm glad Hermione came tonight."

Harry blinked, pulled back to the present moment by the sound of Neville's low voice.

"I mean, I haven't seen her at any events for the last few months, I was worried she'd turned into a recluse, or that they didn't let her out of that place." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Harry nodded.

"It wasn't easy convincing her to come, but I'm glad it worked out. She needs to start getting back into the swing of society."

Ginny sidled up to his other side.

"My feet are bloody killing me! I knew I shouldn't have worn these shoes."

Harry gazed at the ground, her feet masked by her emerald skirts. "We can trade if you like?"

She burst into laughter. "That would be fantastic, actually."

He smirked. "We'll have to swap outfits as well, my boots will clash horribly with that dress."

He allowed himself to get lost for a few moments in easy banter, his anxiety ebbing. Only to return tenfold as a familiar presence appeared in his peripheral.

"Hello, Potter."

Harry turned into a living statue, limbs frozen. Theo came to a stop just before him, Pansy on his arm, her outfit even more obscene than the Venetian costume.

Harry forced his gaze to meet the sapphire eyes that haunted his dreams each night and plagued his every waking moment. They sparkled like stars against the midnight sky as they bore their way through Harry's skull.

"Congratulations on your promotion. What an accomplishment." He wet his lips. Harry swallowed. "Her Majesty is lucky to have such accomplished sailors as you and your godfather in her fleet."

Harry's jaw tensed as they continued to stare at each other for several suffocating seconds. Then he forced himself to speak, hardly aware of what he was saying.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but you're too kind, Nott."

Pansy tipped her head, glancing between them, brow arching high.

"I tell him that all the time," she interjected, drawing Harry's gaze at last. "Luckily I'm a raging bitch and am able to balance things out."

Harry rolled his eyes while Neville shifted awkwardly and Ginny burst into laughter, wild and unrestrained.

Pansy's gaze cut to the young woman. Her pupils dilated, red lips curving up.

"Hello, darling. I don't believe we've been formally introduced."

Ginny settled down, cheeks lightly flushed. "Oh. I haven't officially come out yet. I'm Ron's sister, Ginevra."

Pansy's smile widened, eyes bright. "Never preface your introduction by way of a man, my dear. You are your own person, are you not?"

Ginny blinked.

"Well, yes."

"Then introduce yourself as Ginevra Weasley."

Ginny's blush deepened as Pansy said her name.

"People call me Ginny."

"Ginny is a little girl's name," Pansy licked her lips. "A nickname from your youth. If you continue to associate with it you'll never be taken seriously as a woman." Her eyes flashed. "Would you like for me to call you Ginny?"

Theo rolled his eyes even as Ginny stood transfixed.

"Call me Ginevra."

Pansy winked. "Good choice, darling."

Theo shook his head. "Well, now that we've got that sorted-"

"I love your dress." Pansy reached out a hand, ignoring him completely as she traced her fingertips along the emerald cap sleeve, grazing freckled skin and causing Ginny's entire arm to twitch."Custom made?"

"Uh.. um, yes…" Ginny followed the path of Pansy's fingers with her eyes.

"Stunning. Who designed it?"

Ginny blinked, eyes snapping forward. "I did."

Pansy's brow raised, eyes roaming her figure carefully, causing the other woman to fidget.

"You have a marvelous eye for fit and form."

Harry glanced at the other two men. Neville looked perplexed, but Theo shot him a weighted look that cast stones to the pit of his stomach.

Ginny laughed, glancing down at her dress. "I don't know about that. I just provided a rough outline, the seamstress did the rest."

"Don't act meek, darling, it clashes terribly with that outfit."

Ginny's eye snapped up. "I like your dress as well. I've never seen anything like it."

"I strive to be original."

"Well, you're certainly turning heads."

Pansy's eyes gleamed. "Am I now?"

Harry stepped forward. "You look like you're wearing a birdcage, Parkinson." Her expression soured instantly as her eyes cut to him. He pinned her with a warning look, the message clear.

She held his severe gaze a moment longer before rolling her eyes, glancing away in acute annoyance. And then her expression transformed into something truly wicked.

"Come on, Theo," she coaxed throatily, bringing her lips close to his ear, speaking loud enough for them all to hear. "Let's go slow dance."

Theo sighed, eyes locking with Harry's for a heart-pounding instant. The emotion contained within absolutely gutted him. And then the man looked away.

"Congratulations again, Potter." His voice was hollow, unrecognizable. He grasped Pansy's hand and led her away. She shot a glance over her shoulder at Harry, eyes narrowed and sinister. And then they swept to Ginny, lingering a moment longer before the couple disappeared into the crowd.

Everyone visibly deflated in the wake of the passing storm.

"Pansy is more… vibrant than I remember," Neville provided, no doubt trying to ease the strange tension holding them all in its grasp.

Harry sighed. "She's a bit more everything."

Ginny bit her lip, eyes averted to her skirts. "I thought she was fascinating."

Harry watched her carefully.

Fuck. Just what I need to deal with.

Before he could think of a suitable response Neville stepped forward. "Gin… um…" he shuffled awkwardly. "Would you like to dance?"

Ginny beamed. "I'd love to, Neville."

His expression matched her own as he extended his arm to her, then glanced back at Harry nervously.

"Oh… you don't mind, do you, mate?"

"Not at all. Have fun out there."

Ginny flashed him a wink as Neville led her away. "I'll save a spot on my dance card for you, Harry."

He chuckled. "You'd better."

And then they were gone and his expression fell. He glanced around with resignation, alone in a room full of people, a special sort of misery.

Though it seemed he wasn't unique in his acute suffering.

A crash sounded at the bar, followed by a few shocked gasps. Harry spun around, sighing in aggravation as he spotted the culprit.

McLaggen.

Bloody hell.

Harry made a quick beeline across the room, nudging his way through the spectators watching the scene play out with avid fascination.

"Fucking sheep!" McLaggen listed heavily against the bar. "All of you are fucking sheep!"

Harry paled, emerging through the crowd and grasping the man's shoulder, causing him to jolt and nearly fall over.

"Wha-" His unfocused eyes widened. "Potter! What are you doing here?"

"I crashed the gates. Hear they're throwing this bash for some uppity ponce."

McLaggen blinked, then burst into loud, grating laughter. Harry cringed.

"Alright, mate, I think you've had en-"

"I killed her you know."

Harry reared back. A few people standing nearby ceased their conversation to listen in.

"Cormac." He squeezed the man's shoulder. "Not here, mate, let's go outs-"

"We aren't mates." He wet his lips, face pinching. "You said that."

"Let's go outside anyway."

"I don't have mates. Not really."

Harry glanced around, causing a few eavesdroppers to glance away quickly while others continued to shamelessly stare.

"People pretend to like me for my money… I know that…" He knocked a glass over on the bar, ice spilling across the glossy wood. "Lav was different though. She liked me for me. Flaws and all."

Harry swallowed thickly. "Cormac, listen to me. We can't talk about this here."

McLaggen ran a hand over his face, offering little resistance as Harry pulled him away from the bar, sliding an arm beneath his to help steady his weight and directing them towards the garden exit.

"I shouldn't have ever taken her there. It's like I cut her throat myself."

Harry's heart lurched. He glanced sharply at the man, surroundings fading into the ether.

"Take her where?"

McLaggen groaned. "You know where Potter."

Harry's jaw ticked.

Amortentia.

"You think-"

He stopped short, too many spectators whispering behind hands and feather fans. Harry sighed. "Come on."

He hauled the man to the exit, balancing precariously as he opened the door and maneuvered them both through.

He inhaled the fresh night air in a desperate gasp, relieved beyond measure to be free of the oppressive crowd. He glanced around, spotting a scenic bench by some flowering bushes and quickly made their way over.

He lowered McLaggen with a groan. The man slumped over immediately.

"Alright, McLaggen, don't choke on your own tongue." He blinked. "Or perhaps do, that's a sure fire way to bring this evening to a screeching halt."

McLaggen scrubbed a hand over his face.

"I need another drink."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You need water and a good night's rest. In your own bed, not on a bench. I'm putting you in a carriage."

McLaggen attempted to stand, only succeeding in tipping over further, nearly completely horizontal on the bench. Harry shook his head.

"Fucking hell."

"Don't act all pomp you uptight arse."

Harry couldn't contain his grin. Leave it to this idiot to pick a fight when he couldn't even sit upright.

"I'm going to go hail a ride unless you came in your private carriage?"

McLaggen groaned anew, rubbing his temples. Harry stepped back.

"Right. Don't go anywhere."

Ten minutes later he was shoving the man into the back of a carriage, the cramped interior already reeking of a brewery as McLaggen laid down on the seat.

Harry started to dismount but hesitated, glancing inside once more. He was brimming with questions but knew McLaggen was in no condition to provide any valuable answers.

He sighed.

"McLaggen."

A low moan emanated from the shadows.

"Sleep it off, mate. I'm going to swing by your father's estate in the morning, finish our conversation."

The huddled figure started to rise, only to fall again.

"We aren't mates."

Harry stared into the darkness. "I know." He pulled back. "Good night."

He leaped to the cobblestone and slammed the door, gesturing to the driver.

As he watched the carriage pull away from the entrance he felt cold tendrils wrap around his heart and throat, pulling him under the surface and down down down to the darkest depths of his mind.

---

Hermione clutched her skirt tightly as she cut her way across the garden, knuckles turning white.

Draco spotted her the moment she stepped onto the grass, his silver gaze tracking her carefully as she made her way to him. His utter stillness and pale beauty made him look more marble than man. She was reminded of the statues at the V&A, their cold perfection. She wondered if his skin would be hard and unyielding beneath her touch, or warm and pliable, muscles tensing beneath her nails. She clutched her skirts tighter.

And came to a stop at the other end of the fountain.

The distance between them yawned and stretched. The statue came to life, head tipping, eyes roaming her figure with such raw desire it caressed her like a physical touch.

"You look nervous."

She blinked, mouth opening and closing. She forced her hands to relaxed, her skirts swaying around her in an invisible current.

"I'm not nervous."

His eyes finished their upward ascent, locking with hers once more, keeping her trapped in place as he slowly walked towards her.

Every footfall clipped away at her resolve.

"I'm sorry about Lavender."

She swallowed heavily, rocking on her heels.

"Potter told me what happened." His jaw ticked, something flashing in the depth of his gaze. "Are… How are you?"

She blinked again, tilting her head back to hold his gaze as he reached her at last. The sincerity in his voice tore at her heart further.

"I…" she shook her head. "I haven't really thought about how I am. There's been so much else to deal with."

He inhaled slowly. "Please tell me you aren't entangling yourself in the investigation."

Her eyes narrowed. "There isn't an investigation." The relief in his eyes made her spine turn ramrod straight. He sighed deeply.

"Don't give me that look. I'm not happy her murder is being ignored, but I will sleep better at night knowing you aren't running around the city hunting a killer."

"Interesting. I find I can't sleep at all knowing her murderer is still loose, free to abuse more young women."

He glanced away. "Christ. There's no winning with you."

She crossed her arms, expression pinched. "After ten years of losing every argument, you'd think you'd have learned that by now."

He ground his teeth, eyes flashing.

"Is Dolohov your attorney?"

Hermione reared back, losing her balance. Draco's hand shot out and grasped her arm just in time, drawing her forward.

"I'll take that as a yes."

She gazed up at him, eyes wide and horrified. "Why are you asking me that?"

Is he here?

The urge to glance around was strong, but Draco's magnetic gaze was stronger, holding her focus.

"He mentioned making a recent trip to the Umbridge Home for a client. I doubt the majority of residents could afford his services." His fingers tightened around her arm, cutting into the circulation. "He controls your estate then?"

She paled considerably, eyes flickering between his, seeing no escape in sight. She knew he wouldn't have bothered asking if he wasn't already assured of the truth, he merely wanted to see her reaction. And she was certainly giving him quite the show.

She wet her lips.

"Yes. He maintains a controlling interest."

That much was safe to share. As for the rest…

Draco could never know. For the same reasons she would never tell Harry. Either man would go on a homicidal rampage and kill the bastard without a thought for the consequences.

Well… Harry would certainly revert to violence. She wasn't certain if Draco would follow suit or take the legal route. The latter would be the most devastating, hurting those she was trying to protect…

No.

The attack was a secret she would take to her grave. As agreed.

"When did you speak with him?" She hoped to steer him away from the truth.

Draco continued to grip her arm, his other hand sliding to her waist, fingers splayed across the branches on her corset.

"I was wrangled into a poker game with my uncles and their guests."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that was quite a sacrifice for you."

His jaw ticked. "I've been cutting back."

"I can see that."

His silver gaze narrowed. "I made another fascinating discovery that night."

She tilted her head, muscles tense and ready to pounce, the feeling of being in his arms awaking her most base instincts.

"I'm sure it was positively riveting, I'm ever so eager to hear."

Their faces hovered so close his next words glanced off her lips.

"I learned that the Home recently employed a male physician by the name of Doctor Riddle."

Hermione blinked.

And then several things happened.

Looking back, she wouldn't be able to ascertain the order of events as it all seemed to occur at once.

One of the first things her memory recalled was the intensity of his gaze, the eerie glow of his irises, as though lit by some internal source.

The next thing she became aware of was the unforgiving line of his body, as though she were suddenly pressing against a brick wall.

The third thing to imprint on her memory was the way his head tipped back, causing his eyes to narrow as he peered down his nose at her, effectively turning him into the spitting image of his father.

And that thought triggered her final realization.

It's a test.

She knew with unequivocal certainty that the next few seconds would alter the course of their future forever.

He was waiting for her to react.

And that knowledge gave her all the power. She could make or break it all with her next word, her next movement.

A small voice whispered in the distance, begging her to tell the truth. It sounded suspiciously like Harry.

But a louder voice that sounded like her own urged her to tread carefully.

Don't lose him. Not like this.

There was no decision to be made.

The lie coated her lips like nectar.

"Yes. We also planted three new rose bushes and added croissants to the breakfast menu. Aren't you receiving the Home newsletter?"

His eyes flashed, something wild taking root, making her heart race. But she maintained her mildly annoyed expression, her easy posture, as though they were discussing any mundane topic that resulted in their usual banter.

She was unnerved to see suspicion still present across every sharp line in his face.

"He's quite the impressive character. Seems hard to overlook."

She tipped her head.

"Would you like for me to ask if he's single? Perhaps you can take him to dinner."

"Do you speak to him often?"

"Define often."

"Don't play dense."

"I'm trying to make you feel more comfortable."

His hands gripped her arm and waist tighter, a thrill raced along her spine, nerve endings firing to life.

"Hermione." His eyes flickered between hers. "You know what I'm asking."

She swallowed lightly, soul withering inside her shell. She pushed on, committed to seeing this through.

"I do."

The silence grew and festered, the only sound in the universe the melody of her racing heart and the fountain at their backs.

"But I assure you, I have no interest in him." She felt dizzy yet managed to stay upright. "I find him deeply unsettling if I'm being honest."

That much was certainly true.

"I do my best to avoid him."

He held her gaze for a short eternity before she felt his body deflate against her, tension expelling with an audible hiss.

He nodded, expression softening, mask falling away. She blinked rapidly, eyes burning.

"I found him unsettling as well. It's good you keep your distance. I don't trust him."

Cleared her throat, vocal chords tangled. "Why was he at the poker game?"

Draco shrugged lightly, hand falling away from her arm, the limb tingling at the renewed blood flow. His fingers instead traced idle patterns along the branches at her ribs, grazing the fallen petals.

"Dolohov invited him. They're best mates now apparently."

Her entire body throbbed. She pressed her hands to Draco's chest as she swayed on her feet. He glanced back up, brows drawn.

"Hermione?"

She forced a smile, trying to shove her heart back into the empty cavity at her center. "You're a fan of the dress I see?"

She prayed the subject change wasn't too abrupt but dwelling on the previous topic for a second more would prove fatal.

"You look breathtaking. Half the men here can't keep their eyes off you. I don't think I'll let you back inside."

She relaxed against him, taking comfort in the familiarity of his hold.

She realized then she'd never once felt threatened by Draco's presence, even during the height of their arguments.

Hermione took great comfort in that realization.

He raised a hand towards her face, twining a loose curl around his finger, eyes roaming her hair.

"You aren't wearing lilies or daisies."

She shook her head, glancing down at her bodice. "I'm wearing cherry blossoms."

Draco raised a pale brow. "I'm not familiar with their meaning."

Hermione glanced back up with a smile tinged with sadness.

"Ginny picked the dress. I doubt she knew the meaning either. I think she just liked the color."

She removed a hand from his chest to run a belled sleeve between her fingers. "It's ironic really, how fitting they are to this occasion. To me. And yet they were chosen completely by accident."

The hands on her waist slid around to rest at her lower back.

"What do they mean?"

She swallowed lightly. "The significance of the cherry blossom in Japanese culture goes back hundreds of years. They represent the fragility and splendor of life. A reminder that each of our lives is overwhelmingly beautiful, but also tragically short."

She became lost to melancholy thoughts, unaware of the intensity of Draco's gaze or the increased pressure of his hands.

She only came back to reality at the sound of his voice.

"Run away with me."

Her head snapped up, eyes wide.

"What?"

"You heard me."

She tried to draw back but his arms held her firm. His face held an open yearning that rendered her mute.

"What's stopping us? Family? Friends? The people you love won't ever abandon you, and the more distance I put between me and my father the better."

He wet his lips, leaning in. "Besides, Potter ships out in another couple weeks. Back to his life. And what will you do? Go back to that hovel? How much longer do you plan on staying there? What are you waiting for, Hermione?"

She shook her head, thoughts caught in a whirlwind, breathing labored.

"Draco, I-"

"I can already see the answer in your eyes. But before you reject me outright I want you to stop and really think about it. What future do you really want? You've always said you don't want to marry for money, I'm willing to walk away from all of it to be with you."

His jaw ticked.

"Unless you don't want to be with me."

He drew back, arms stiffening around her.

"In which case that would change everything."

She felt light headed.

"Tell me the truth, Hermione. I need to hear you say it."

"I can't-"

"You can."

She gazed at him with pleading eyes. "Draco, I can't do this right now."

"I'm sick and tired of this runaround!" He hissed, eyes bright. "I deserve to know the truth! If you don't want to be with me then just say it!"

Her abject misery was replaced with white-hot anger in the space of a heartbeat.

"How dare you corner me with this when your fiance is waiting inside for you!"

His eyes narrowed. "She isn't my fiance."

"She is and you know it! I saw the way Lucius doted on her earlier, he's practically salivating at the thought of your pending nuptials!"

Draco's chest heaved.

"Furthermore, my friend was just found murdered. I have no plans to leave London until I know the person responsible is off the streets!"

He opened his mouth but she cut him off with a swift elbow to the ribs, causing him to grunt and clutch his side as she twisted free of his hold.

"But the main reason for my vehement reservation is the fact that you've never once told me you love me!"

She swallowed thickly, unaware the words had been sitting heavily on her heart until their weight was lifted. They both stared at each other in surprise, earlier agitation forgotten.

Draco blinked several times, and then she saw the flame ignite in his pupils even as the vines constricted around her heart. She raised her hand just as he opened his mouth.

"Don't you dare say it now, Draco Malfoy!" Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Not in the middle of a fight and certainly not after I've mentioned it to you!"

His face transformed into his signature scowl. "I can say it whenever the hell I want to say it, Granger!"

She threw her hands up. "Fine! Say it then!"

"Well the moment's fallen to shite now, hasn't it?"

"That's what I just said!"

"No, you just tried to dictate-"

"Don't tell me what I-"

"- never can get a bloody word in-"

"- insufferable prick that you are-"

"- telling me what I can and can't-"

"- like a child that doesn't-"

"- after I ask you to be with me-"

"- like it's some great romantic gesture-"

"Hello, kids."

Draco and Hermione jumped a foot in the air at the sudden interruption, spinning around to face the source of the voice just a few feet to their side.

Sirius stood with a cigar in his mouth and a delightedly entertained gleam in his eyes.

"I hate to interrupt, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart because it looked like the kitten was seconds away from rearranging your face again, little cousin. But I just spotted my godson dragging what appeared to be a very drunk man or possibly a dead body through the garden."

He released a long breath of smoke into the night air, glancing between their dumbfounded faces. "But I'm guessing you were a bit too preoccupied to notice."

Hermione recovered first, shaking her head to dispel the stray thoughts still plaguing her.

"Wait, Harry was dragging who?"

Sirius shrugged. "Hard to tell, but I think it was Cormac McLaggen."

She inhaled sharply, pulse quickening. "I need to speak with him."

She grabbed a handful of skirts, glancing over her shoulder at Draco. His eyes were still narrowed, color high in his cheeks.

"We can finish this discussion later."

He scoffed, voice dripping in derision.

"I think we've said all that we needed to, Granger."

The muscle in his jaw clenched as he strode past, long legs eating up the grass in graceful strides even as his body seemed to vibrate with pent emotion.

Hermione stared at his retreating figure for several seconds before she remembered Sirius lingering beside her. He stared back with a gentle concern that reminded her so much of her father she clutched her chest, glancing away.

"Please, don't ask."

He turned his head, blowing smoke in the other direction.

"I know better than to do that, kitten."

She nodded, staring at the fallen petals sewn into her skirts.

"And please don't say anything to Harry. He has enough on his mind. I don't want him worrying about me as well."

Sirius raised a dark brow. "Is there cause to worry?"

She met his gaze with great hesitation, embarrassed to have been caught in such a state, even by someone as accepting Sirius.

"No."

She didn't bother trying to sell the lie, knowing he would see right through her rouse. But to her immense relief and undying gratitude, Sirius didn't press the matter, instead offering his arm to escort her back inside.

"Just so you know, my offer still stands," he supplied around his cigar, smoke emitting with every word. "Just give me the word and I'll castrate the ferret for you anytime, luv."

A laugh bubbled from her throat, high and broken, but genuine. She met his knowing gaze and smiled, hoping it masked the pain.

"I'll keep that in mind."

---

Harry was fully immersed in the quest for a new drink when a small hand alighted on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

He glanced back, chest loosening when he was met with comforting hazel eyes.

"Mione, there you are."

She raised a brow.

"What were you doing with Cormac?"

His face fell.

"You saw us?"

"Several people saw you it would seem." She glanced towards the bar. "Is he still here?"

"No, I stuffed him in a carriage. I doubt he'll be able to find his way out of it before daybreak."

Her shoulders dropped.

"He didn't tell you anything else then?"

Harry's hands flexed at his sides. "Can we talk about this after I have a whiskey in my hand?"

"Harry."

He sighed. "He was too drunk to make much sense. But from what I garnered he harbors a lot of guilt about Lavender."

Hermione drew back, folding her arms. "I didn't think he cared for her that much."

Harry fought to keep his gaze focused on her, well aware that Theo stood several yards ahead, just within his eye line.

"Appearances can be deceiving."

A shadow passed across her face. "I suppose that's true."

He gazed at her for a long moment. Her forlorn disappointment was sharp as a dagger point.

"But he told me something earlier that may be useful."

The result was instantaneous. Light flooded back into her eyes, wide and eager.

"I ran into him at a pub the night after I came to visit you. He told me there's a girl at the Club who knew Lavender from their youth, he thinks."

She swelled with visible excitement. He held up a staying hand.

"Now before you go asking a million questions, no, I don't know her name or even what she looks like, besides the fact that she's also blonde."

She nodded quickly. "We can ask the-"

"We are not going to do anything. I am going to continue the investigation and you are going to stay out of trouble just as we discussed."

Her eyes narrowed. "Discussed and agreed are two very different concepts."

He tipped his head back, gazing at the crystal chandelier at the center of the domed ceiling.

"Sometimes I think you live to put me into an early grave."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic."

"Harry! Good to see you, m'boy!" A new voice practically shouted beside them, causing them both to jolt. Hermione brought a hand to her chest, steadying herself. Harry cringed.

"Congratulations on your promotion! About time, if you ask me. They certainly drag their feet when it comes to these sorts of things, you didn't hear it from me though- Oh, hello, dear."

The portly man smiled at Hermione. "I didn't see you there. Though I must be going senile if I missed you in that stunning dress. I hope I didn't interrupt?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, clearly still processing the man's whirlwind arrival. Harry stepped forward.

"Not at all Doctor Slughorn."

"How many times must I insist you call me Horace?"

"Always at least once more it would seem."

He placed a hand at Hermione's elbow, a gesture that appeared chivalric but in reality was a means to keep her from leaving him alone with their unwanted guest.

"This is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Doctor Horace Slughorn."

She smiled pleasantly. "Of course, I recognize you from your photo."

Slughorn blinked. "My photo?"

"Yes, in the science wing of the British Museum, you're quoted next to one of the vaccine displays."

He stared at her a moment longer before breaking into a wide grin.

"Oh, I'd nearly forgotten about that." He chuckled, placing a hand on his sizable stomach. "Fortunately that photograph was taken many years ago when I had less around the middle and more up top." He gestured to his balding head. Hermione laughed along with him. Harry glanced around, looking for something to injure himself with. This exchange had barely begun and he was already desperate for it to end.

"Wait a moment…" Slughorn's eyes widened. "Granger, you say? You wouldn't happen to be related to Doctor Richard Granger?"

Harry watched her smile freeze in place, brittle and frail.

"He was my father."

Slughorn's expression fell. "Oh, I am terribly sorry for your loss, my dear. What a brilliant man, I had the honor of meeting him on several occasions."

She swallowed lightly. "Yes, I remember him mentioning you, he was a fan of your work."

"And I of his." His face brightened once more. "Now as I recall, I remember him mentioning a daughter. He said she was interested in becoming a doctor herself."

Hermione blinked, color staining her cheeks. "Oh, well, yes, I did. I mean, I do, but-"

"Are you following the progression of the Medical Act through Parliament?"

She wet her lips. "Yes, as much as I can. I hear they're drawing close to the final vote."

"They are indeed. I remember your father being a very outspoken proponent of it, now I see why. He told me you were quite brilliant."

She smiled, eyes hollow. Harry stepped close. "She is. The most brilliant person I've ever met in fact."

She glanced up sharply. "Harry-"

"Don't be modest, Mione."

"Well with that endorsement I am eager to see the bill pass, we need more bright minds in the field. Perhaps one day I'll see you walking the halls of Mungo's in a white medical jacket."

She took a deep breath. "I'd love nothing more, Doctor."

Harry was focused on her face, so he saw the moment her posture turned defensive.

He glanced up and instantly understood the cause of her transformation.

"Oh, hello Lucius!"

"Hello, Horace."

The man's silver eyes darted to Harry.

"Mister Potter. I came to bid you congratulations on your promotion. I do hope I'm not interrupting."

Harry set his jaw.

"Not at all, Lucius!" Slughorn gushed. "I was just doing the same. Of course, I went off on a bit of a tangent as I'm prone to do. And then we got onto the subject of the Medical Act, which I just now remember is one of your party's focus. I do hope your ears weren't burning."

Lucius spared the man a sharp smile laced with acid. Harry felt his chest tighten, Hermione pale as a ghost at his side.

"It is indeed, Horace." His gaze drifted to Hermione, latching on with predatory focus. "And I do recall Ms. Granger's father being an advocate of the bill. Are you taking up his mantle, my dear?"

Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione gently touched his hand, silencing him.

"I've been a bit distracted with other endeavors, Lord Malfoy. But I am a passionate proponent nonetheless." She swallowed. "I didn't realize your party was involved."

His smile widened, teeth pointed and precise as the rest of his appearance.

"We are leading the charge against it."

Slughorn shifted uncomfortably but no one spared him a glance.

"I do hope you don't take offense, my dear. It's not that I personally have anything against women joining the medical field, but this bill will no doubt be a stepping stone the liberal advocates will use to launch more and more ludicrous ideas. Once momentum is gained it is difficult to stop. I am merely trying to protect the overall sanctity of the values and standards that keep our society running."

Harry's knuckles cracked with the force of his clenched fists, but Hermione's poise kept his feet firmly rooted. She wet her lips, eyes bright.

"If history has proven one thing, Lord Malfoy, it is that society continues to persevere even through the most radical of changes. Some of the most renowned structures are built atop ruins of the old. The floor we stand upon this very moment is built on land once occupied by the Anglo-Saxons, and earlier by the Celtic tribes of Britannia. Had our ancestors not set out into the unknown then we wouldn't be able to even have this discussion. The only thing that can halt us as a people and as a species is to turn our backs on change and innovation, to deny ourselves the opportunity of growth and development."

Harry smirked, tearing his gaze away from Hermione only to bask in Malfoy's reaction. His eyes were narrowed to slits, his hand clutching the dragon head of his cane like a claw.

"A passionate speech, indeed, Ms. Granger, but hardly relating to the topic at hand. I do not see the connection between women entering the medical field and our country's ability to thrive economically. We've certainly risen to become the world's most powerful nation without the use of female doctors, I dare say we can maintain our position just fine without altering our enrollment process. The reality of the matter is women are better suited to other areas, like taking care of the family, which is where their true strength lies."

She tipped her chin up, allowing her the luxury of staring down her nose at the man even as he continued to tower above her.

"I see. I can't disagree that women have shown to be unparalleled protectors. Perhaps you feel they would be better suited as military leaders, as history proves?"

Malfoy opened and closed his mouth but she didn't await his response.

"One of the greatest military commanders of the ancient world was Fu Hao of the Shang Dynasty, one of the king's many wives, who ended up leading his army to victory so many times she was granted her own fiefdom to rule and was buried as a warrior queen. And then there were the formidable Trung sisters of Vietnam, who ruled as co-queens and led the charge to reclaim their nation's lands from the Han Dynasty. They were famed for appointing female deputies to their armies, one of which is said to have charged into battle while pregnant and given birth on the very field. And you've of course heard the tales of Boadicea, the Celtic queen who led the rebellion against the Romans to protect her daughters' legal claim to their father's land. And we mustn't forget the infamous Joan of Arc, who took charge of King Charles army as a mere teenager and broke apart a bloody siege that had been raging for months in only nine days, a victory that became the most pivotal battle in the Hundred Years War. There are countless others I could mention, Laskarina, the famed Naval Commander, Azurduy, who escaped a convent to become a guerilla warrior, and then, of course, there's our own English Queens, Elizabeth and the beloved Queen Victoria herself. So I agree with you, Lord Malfoy, women certainly play a pivotal role outside of medicine. But if they can be trusted to defend and lead entire nations, our own included, I don't see why they can't be trusted to care for the health and wellbeing of individuals outside of their own family."

She tipped her head, eyes as innocent as a doe.

Malfoy blinked, expression caught somewhere between explosive rage and utter disbelief. Harry was similarly transfixed, gazing upon her with so much pride he thought his ribcage may split with it.

Slughorn finally broke the silence.

"Well, my!" He clapped his hands together with a laugh. "I see that Harry wasn't exaggerating before. That was quite impressive Ms. Granger. If you were allowed to speak before the Committee I dare say you would be able to sway more than a few minds."

Malfoy's eye twitched.

"That... was certainly a pretty speech."

Hermione's face remained a placid lake, which only served to rile the blonde further.

And then an arm was slung around Harry's neck, causing him to stiffen in annoyance even though he knew who it was.

"Well isn't this an interesting group," Sirius said with a wry grin. "Let me guess, you're discussing Lotta Crabtree's theatre group finally making a European tour. I'm excited as well, we should all go in on tickets."

Harry rolled his eyes, shrugging the man's arm off.

"And to think you will soon be commanding our nation's war vessels," Malfoy said, expression still pinched from Hermione's epic smackdown.

"No one is as shocked as I am. Still, the only thing that would make the promotion even better is if I could wear a powdered wig to work each day. You're living the dream, Lucius, living the dream."

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose to mask his laugh as Hermione stifled hers with the back of her hand.

"Sirius, I'm so happy to run into you!" Slughorn seemed oblivious to the mounting tension. "I was meaning to tell you about-"

"Sorry, Horace, old chap, I just got word from the old man that we're needed on stage." He glanced at Harry. "Ready, kid?"

Harry released a long breath. "Let's get this over with."

"That's the spirit."

As his godfather started to direct him towards the raised stage he glanced over his shoulder to Hermione. She flashed him a wink of reassurance. He tried to smile but found it a herculean task.

Instead, his eyes drifted, drawn by a familiar magnetic force that he put no effort into resisting.

He locked eyes with Theo from across the room.

His former lover looked devastatingly handsome, eyes unfathomably blue. Harry wanted to drown in their depths. Anything to put an end to this misery.

Yet he managed to continue putting one foot in front of the other, tearing his gaze away and leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

---

Hermione watched Harry take the stage with a heavy heart. He looked so despondent… she knew more than just the promotion was plaguing him, and it made her feel overwhelming guilt she didn't know what it was.

I've been a selfish friend.

Her thoughts scattered like dried leaves to the wind as she felt a body draw near. Lord Malfoy hovered above her, breath cascading across her face and neck.

"Tread carefully, Ms. Granger," he whispered into her ear. "You are nothing but an ant. Easily crushed beneath my boot."

She blinked rapidly, trying to maintain her neutral composure as she stared ahead.

"And stay away from my son, you wretched girl. I assure you, he considers you nothing but a passing amusement. Easily used and discarded. Like the rest of your kind."

He lingered a moment longer, seemingly satisfied by her silence, finally drawing back and spinning on his heal, pale hair flowing behind him as he slipped back into the crowd.

Hermione released a gasping breath, feeling light-headed.

She thought she detested the man before, but her previous emotions felt benign compared to this new hatred festering in her heart.

He's leading the charge against the Medical Act…

She swallowed thickly, smoothing her skirts in the hopes of distracting herself.

Did Draco know?

Her attention was drawn back to the stage as a familiar and intimidating figure crossed the stage to stand behind the podium, the sea of guests falling silent by his mere presence.

He had that effect upon people, Hermione included. Her mind went stunningly blank as he began to speak.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. And thank you for showing your support by attending tonight's event. For those of you who do not know me, my name is Albus Dumbledore, I am the Fleet Admiral for Her Majesty's Royal Navy, and tonight I have the great honor of rewarding two of my sailors for their hard work and dedication."

Hermione felt her chest swell with emotion as her eyes drifted to Harry, standing beside his godfather behind Dumbledore.

But the man's next words were drowned out by the blood rushing through her ears as a new presence joined the stage.

One that stole the breath from her lungs.

Just behind Dumbledore hovered the ghostly apparition from the corridor, the girl who led her to the hidden door.

She wore the same white dress, hair flowing around her in the same underwater current…

And she continued to levitate off the ground.

Hermione took a step back, glancing around at the crowd. There were no looks of shock or terror, no screams aside from her own voice in her head.

She gazed back up, locking eyes with the girl.

This can't be happening. Not here.

She'd never experienced an episode outside of the Home. The sudden evolution terrified her more than the vision itself.

Why are you here? Why are you doing this to me?

It took every ounce of strength to maintain her calm expression, though her eyes brimmed with tears as she gazed upon the girl.

And then, a memory played before her eyes, bright and clear as the night it happened.

And only one word came to mind.

Door.

Hermione swallowed, covertly wiping away her tears, hoping anyone watching would assume she was overcome by emotion at seeing Harry take the stage.

She saw the outline of the hidden door in her mind's eye, except this time a sinister red light emanated from behind it.

Hermione knew then what needed to be done.

She glanced back at the stage, but the girl was gone.

Hermione looked around the room, spotting her target not far away. She quietly made her way through the spectators.

"Neville," she whispered once within earshot.

He brightened at seeing her. "Hermione! Is everything okay?"

She nodded. "You're still an engineering major, aren't you?"

Neville raised a brow. "Er… yes, I am."

She sighed in relief. "Great! I need your expertise."

He blinked. "Oh. I mean yeah, of course. About what?"

She wet her lips. "What's the best method for prying open a door?"

---

Harry stepped off the stage, idly thumbing the medal around his neck, eyes combing the crowd for his friends.

He caught Ron's eye from across the room. The man mock saluted him with a smile, Susan on his arm. Harry smiled, shaking his head and continuing his path towards the bar. People kept stopping to congratulate him, he nodded and uttered the proper responses, his mind starting to shut down with exhaustion.

He wasn't used to staying at social events this long into the night, and he certainly wasn't used to being the center of attention. It was grueling.

And then he caught a flash of periwinkle silk, his heart lifting.

"Harry! You were magnificent up there!" She clutched his arm. "I'm so proud of you!"

He tried to smile but ended up sighing instead. Then he noticed a similarly conflicted look in her eyes, bottom lip pinned between her teeth.

"Mione? Are you alright?"

"Oh, of course. I just… I need to go, Harry."

He straightened. "Oh thank god. I thought you'd never say it. Let's get out of here."

She blinked. "What?"

"You don't think you're leaving me behind while you fly free?"

"It's your party, Harry, you can't just leave."

"I assure you I very much can."

Hermione released a frustrated breath. "It will look bad."

"I'm not concerned about how these people perceive me, Mione. The ones I care about will understand my need to get out of here before my sanity slips any further."

She pinned him with a withering look. He smiled his most boyish grin, emerald eyes bright.

She sighed.

"Alright fine."

He grabbed her elbow, leading her through the throngs of partygoers at rapid speed.

"Wait! You have to say goodb-"

"Why don't I stand on the buffet table and shout it to the room?"

She rolled her eyes. "If you receive grief for this from your superiors don't come crying to me."

"Sirius will cover for me if Dumbledore cares, which I doubt he will. He detests these showy events as much as we do."

"We at least should tell Ron."

Harry sighed deeply, coming to a stop.

"Okay fine, where is h-"

His gaze found his friend quite quickly, red hair a bright beacon pulsating in the midst of the dance floor.

Ron was laughing wildly, spinning Susan around in a quick mazurka, her face equally alight with joy. Susan's movements were fluid and precise, while his were abrupt and ill-timed, but neither seemed to care.

Hermione followed his gaze, spotting the dancing couple.

"I don't think they'll notice our absence," he said, emotions warring within him.

Hermione seemed to sense the change, always so attuned to his moods.

"She seems rather taken with him."

Harry nodded, tearing his gaze away.

"I'm happy for him."

She held his gaze. "Just worried?"

His jaw ticked. "Aren't you?"

"I want him to be happy. If she can manage to do that… I think the rest will have a way of working itself out."

Harry ran a hand through his barely tamed hair, causing a few strands to stand on end. He was plagued by guilt, the lies eating away inside him.

All the lies.

"Gin's dancing with Neville, should we-"

"Ron will make sure she gets home. Let's not interrupt their fun."

She nodded. He continued sweeping her out of the room before she could formulate a verbal response.

As they walked through the lobby he felt her keen eyes upon him once more.

"Harry?"

He took a deep breath, bracing himself.

"Is everything ok?"

He opened his mouth, an excuse at the ready-

"And please don't give me one of your canned responses."

His mouth snapped shut. She squeezed his arm.

"I know you're upset about something, this isn't just aggravation over the event. I hate to see you this way."

Her voice was a warm blanket wrapping around his shoulders. It reminded him so much of his mother it caused his chest to seize.

"Please talk to me."

He swallowed heavily, continuing to lead them through the double doors of the exit, eyes fixed firmly ahead.

Theo's face flashed before his mind's eye.

He thought he may faint.

"I-" he stopped short, stomach in knots. He fought to maintain his breath.

"I'm just a bit distracted with everything that's happening." His eyes burned, he blinked to alleviate the dryness. "It's nothing sinister, I promise."

She tipped her head, studying his profile carefully. "We've always been able to tell when the other person is lying, Harry."

Every footstep was a feat. They reached the main stairs. He gazed down at the carpeted steps, careful to keep his eyes averted. She'd read the truth in them as easily as one of her medical books.

The need to tell her was strong, burning a hole in his esophagus.

But the fear held him back.

If anyone would understand it would be Hermione...

But what if she didn't?

She was his ship, his sail, his compass. If he lost her he'd never be able to navigate the treacherous waters of this life.

It was a risk he hadn't the courage to take.

Not tonight.

Not after seeing the fire burning in Pansy's knowing gaze. The hollowness in Theo's.

He shook his head, desperate to dispel the memory.

"I just need a good night's rest."

She deflated beside him. He forced a smile, patting her hand.

"That doesn't mean I'm not up for some dessert. Why don't we visit Honeydukes?"

She glanced away.

"Actually, I need to get heading back."

Now he was the one trying to capture her gaze.

"For any particular reason?"

She bit her bottom lip. "I'm just as much in need of a good night's sleep."

His jaw ticked.

She was right.

They always knew when the other was lying.

Of course, Hermione wasn't doing much to cover hers, spewing his own words back at him rather than constructing her own excuse.

They both gazed sadly at the carriage pulling in.

What a pitiful state of affairs this was. Keeping secrets from one another.

He wondered if hers were anything like his, sewn into the very fabric of her heart, poisoning her blood with every beat.

What cure was there for something so firmly attached to one's core?

The driver hopped down, bowing low before straightening to open the door.

"Are you sure I can't convince you to accompany me on one last outing?"

She met his eyes, her brows drawn, as though the refusal caused her physical pain.

"Next time."

He held her gaze a moment longer before nodding, bringing her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles.

"You really were the most beautiful girl here tonight."

Her smile contained more sadness yet.

"It reminded me of old times. I'm glad I came. Seeing you on stage was…"

Her smile faltered, something haunted passing across her gaze, there one moment and gone the next.

She shook her head. "I'm just happy I got to see it. I'm very proud of you, Harry. More than you could ever know." A beat. "Your parents would be proud of you as well."

His body throbbed with the force of his heartbeat, arteries splitting, every part of him bleeding out.

"I hope so."

She leaned up and pecked him on the cheek. She lingered a moment, as though about to whisper in his ear, but then changed her mind, settling back on her heels.

"Goodnight."

"Night, Mione."

He helped her into the carriage, pushing her skirts past the threshold before closing the door and stepping back.

He placed his hands in his pockets, watching her pull away, smiling to himself as she leaned out of the window as the horses turned the corner, waving farewell as per tradition.

He laughed to himself, tears brimming in his eyes, and raised his hand to wave back.

But she was already out of sight.

---

Hermione felt strange entering the main doors of the Home in her finery. She had been half tempted to sneak in through the back, feeling as though her late-night excursion and dress were a great betrayal to the other residents.

They were all trapped in this hell together, made stronger through their unity. Over the last few months, she'd developed a kinship with and earned the respect of most the girls here. If anyone saw her like this she could only imagine their reactions.

However, she knew her skirts would not allow her to slide through the gap in the gate, and so the front door it was.

Luckily it was after curfew and the lobby was empty. Umbridge had given her approval for Hermione to attend the party, another strange attempt to help Hermione cope with Lavender's murder, apparently, so Filch wasn't standing warden.

She hesitated at the mouth of the corridor that led to the dormitory stairs.

And replayed Neville's voice in her head.

"You need to pry open a door?"

She wet her lips. "I know it sounds… alarming, but I assure you, it's completely innocent."

Neville blinked.

"Um… alright then." He scratched the back of his neck. "What kind of door is it?"

She tried not to fidget.

"It's hidden in a wall."

She shook her head as she changed course, heading in the direction opposite her rooms.

Poor Neville.

Poor, brilliant Neville.

"Hidden? Like a secret door?"

She forced a smile, trying to put him at ease. "That's one way to think of it, I suppose."

He stared at her for a long beat. "Okay… well, all doors are designed to be opened somehow. Usually with a key. But if it's hidden there's probably an extra layer of security, like a catch."

"A catch?"

"A trigger mechanism." His eyes brightened, voice becoming more animated. "Something attached to the jam or hinges that allow it to be accessed. It may be concealed, but it will likely be on the same wall as the door so the wire can connect."

Hermione nodded. "Okay. And if I find the trigger…?"

"Well, theoretically that may be all you need. But if it merely opens an access panel, you still may have to get through a lock."

She bit her lip. "I don't suppose you know how to pick one?"

"There are hundreds of lock variations so unless you can describe to me what it looks like there's no telling what the best method would be." He sighed, then blinked. "But technically, there still may be a way in."

Hermione pushed open the butler door to the kitchen, pulling her skirts through before they got caught in the swing back.

She felt around through the dimly lit space until she found the drawer containing the matches, quickly striking one and following its glow to a spare lantern.

She lit the oil soaked wick and shook out the match, holding the lantern high as she inspected the utensils hanging along the wall.

This time a ladle would not do.

Hermione walked further along until the knives came into view.

Her eyes lingered on the cleaver. She shook her head.

No…

She smiled at the butcher knife.

The blade was long and narrow, the handle short and wooden.

Perfect.

She quickly retrieved the tool. Her skirts had no pockets, the true definition of fashion over function.

But even if they did, she wasn't keen on stuffing the sharp blade into them. So instead she made her way upstairs with the lantern in one hand and the massive knife in the other.

Hermione felt emboldened by the weapon, less fearful of the shadows and the creatures that dwelled within them.

She went slowly, lingering behind each corner, straining to hear any noise. But Filch seemed to be making dormitory rounds, the hallways on this side of the building clear.

She debated walking down the corridor containing the secret office.

Just to check on the files.

Make sure nothing was amiss.

It had nothing to do with the fact that the Doctor's chamber was just across the way.

Hermione could care less what he was up to.

And she certainly didn't want him catching wind of her late night adventure.

Instinctively she knew this was a mission she must undertake solo. The visions plagued her and her alone. She would seek out the source of the madness without his intervention.

And somehow she knew the answer would lie beyond the hidden door.

It had to.

She finally emerged into the long, barren hallway, making her way quickly down.

"Don't ever run with a knife in hand," her mother's voice echoed in her head. "No matter how much of a hurry you are in, a blade to the stomach or chest will surely slow you down a great deal more than simply walking."

She swallowed as she came to halt at the dead end.

The hidden panel was clear as ever now that she knew what to look for.

Hermione wondered if Umbridge knew of its existence.

She pushed the thought aside, setting the knife on the floor before backing up slowly, extending her gaze outward, searching for a hidden catch.

It will be hidden…

Her eyes landed on the only portrait on the wall, an oil painting. It depicted a young woman in all black sitting before a solid grey background, making her pale skin glow in the darkness. She looked as much of a ghost as the being that led Hermione here.

She ran her fingertips carefully along the back of the frame, feeling for any sort of push or pull mechanism, eyes locked with those of the portrait.

For a heart-stopping moment, the woman's eyes seemed to flicker, following Hermione as she adjusted her stance.

Hermine blinked and the portrait was lifeless once more.

She sighed in frustration as she felt nothing amiss, stepping back and glancing at the wall with narrowed eyes, desperation building.

I refuse to walk away in defeat.

The girl had appeared to her twice now.

She wouldn't let her down.

Wouldn't let Lavender down.

Wouldn't let herself down.

Her shoulders drew back with determination.

There has to be something else, something I'm missing…

Her lantern dimmed dramatically, drawing her gaze.

The moment her eyes fell upon it the flame flared to life once more.

She blinked.

And then her chest swelled.

Of course!

Hermione spun back around, glancing at the sconce high upon the wall.

She reached up but her fingertips barely grazed the base.

She lowered back to her heels, holding the lantern high, tilting her head to study the iron structure.

There.

The left side had a seam absent the right.

Like a lever.

Adrenaline surged through her system.

Now, to reach the damn thing.

If only I were taller...

A vivid image played out in her mind, Doctor Riddle reaching up with graceful fingers and pulling the level with ease.

She took a deep breath.

No.

I can do this.

Hermione gazed upon the sconce a moment longer before an idea occurred to her. She smiled at the ludicrousy of it, then glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one was watching.

She was about to make a fool of herself after all.

Hermione set her lantern aside and kicked off her heels, walking several yards down the hallway with a wry grin.

I can't believe I'm about to do this…

She shook her head as she turned around once more, setting one foot back and bending her knees, lifting her skirts off the floor.

Here goes nothing!

She sprinted as fast as she could at the wall, lungs pumping furiously, silk rustling around her, hairpins sliding loose-

And leaped for the sconce. Her arms stretched out, hand wrapping around the lever and pulling it down as gravity took hold and her body fell.

She dangled in the air, hanging from the iron decoration for half a heartbeat before she released it, fearful of pulling the item off the wall entirely.

She jumped at the sound of a loud click, and then to her utter delight and fear, the wood panel swung free from the wall, a narrow gap appearing.

She fought to catch her breath, the run made more difficult by her flowing dress and rattled nerves.

But it paid off.

She swung the wood panel open all the way, a dry, dusty gust of air rushing out and hitting her in the face.

Hermione drew back, coughing into her hand, eyes squinting into the utter blackness beyond.

Of course. It just had to get more terrifying.

She leaned over to retrieve her knife and lantern, hesitating for just one second more before forcing her feet forward-

"Ow!"

Hermione reared back, leaning over to rub her sore toe. She lowered the lantern, illuminating a set of stairs leading up.

She blinked.

Isn't this the top floor?

Her heart skipped a beat.

The attic.

But the attic had an entrance on the other side of the building, one that all the residents knew about.

And yet they were all forbidden to enter the space.

A chilling memory stole through her mind. The evening she returned home from the Apothecary after her first day of work… the cold that blew past as she walked up the main stairs, the chilling face gazing down from the attic window…

Or what she thought had been the attic.

Hermione swallowed thickly, gathering her skirts carefully with her knife-wielding hand and holding the lantern aloft in the other. The stairs creaked loudly beneath her bare feet, the wood cold to the touch. She peered down, seeing a thick layer of dust marring their surface. Every step left a footprint behind.

No one has walked these stairs in years…

She released a sigh of frustration as the steps led to yet another door.

She shuddered at the sight.

It was solid black, gleaming beneath the lantern flame.

It seemed as though faces danced along the lacquer, hollow eyes and gaping mouths stretched grotesquely in cries of anguish and desperation.

She blinked, tearing her eyes away to gaze upon the handle, and took a deep breath.

Might as well try it, I'm bound to get lucky one of these days, right?

It would seem that day would not be today.

The door was firmly locked.

Time for plan B.

"... technically, there still may be a way in." Neville's eyes gleamed. "If you come across a lock, you can try getting around it. You'll need something sharp, like a hammer end or crowbar. A knife may work, too, if the blade is strong enough."

Hermione set the lantern on the step below her, turning the knife over in her hand.

"Start by prying open the top of the door."

She bit her lip in concentration as she carefully maneuvered the flat side of the blade into the narrow gap between the wood.

"Slide the tool along the frame through the door stop."

She grabbed the handle with both hands, standing on her tiptoes and using all her strength to drag the blade down and around. She grunted with exertion.

"Once you get through that, carefully slide it through the latch."

Hermione gasped as she felt the blade hit the metal lock, then held her breath, eyes narrowed, face flush as she carefully jimmied the knife-

She gave a short shout of joy as the metal latch clicked loudly, echoing through her ears.

"You're bloody brilliant, Nev."

She pulled the knife free and pushed open the door.

The room beyond was dimly illuminated by moonlight and orange glow from the gas lights on the street below, filtering in through a dirty circular window.

The same one I saw the girl standing in...

Her limbs trembled, the lantern shaking in her hand and casting chaotic shadows along the wall.

And yet her eyes were drawn to one sight alone.

A massive dollhouse.

She was drawn towards it by some mysterious force. Or perhaps it was merely her burning curiosity, the benign image clashing so strongly with the horrors she expected to uncover.

But she quickly realized the further she walked into the small room the more sinister it all became.

Broken dolls littered the floor, each missing something- an eye, an arm, a dress- one integral piece away from being made whole.

More disturbing yet was the doll lying within the dollhouse. Hermione slowly reached for it, throat tightening as she gazed upon the red marks marring the eyeless sockets and grinning mouth. She brushed a fingertip along its lips, then inspected her skin.

It was stained. She rubbed her fingers together, feeling tiny granules.

Red charcoal.

Hermione set the defaced doll back down carefully.

Alrighty then.

She spun around, desperate to leave this disturbing room but reluctant to do so empty-handed.

What is this place? Why was I led here?

What am I meant to find? The dolls?

She held the lantern out, scanning the remainder of the room. But all she saw were more toys for a little girl.

Why is there a playroom beside the attic?

And why is it guarded by a locked, hidden door?

She felt a cool draft blow into the room, ghosting across her bare shoulders and arms, raising gooseflesh in its wake.

Her spine straightened.

Hermione was familiar enough with the unnatural cold to know what it meant…

A message.

Or a warning.

She watched the invisible breeze disturb dust, stray coloring papers, and doll hair, following its progression across the room-

Her heart leaped.

Her eyes landed upon a short and narrow file cabinet in the corner, hidden in shadow.

She wasted no time crossing the room and kneeling before the wooden structure, not an easy feat in her current outfit.

She tried opening the top drawer.

Locked.

She raised a brow.

Not for long.

She wedged her blade into the gap, face lit with determination. After taking down two doors she refused to be deterred now.

She managed to pry the lock free in a few seconds, heart swelling with pride. Hermione considered herself an academic. Breaking and entering was not her usual pastime.

But it was quite exhilarating.

She began to understand the appeal of certain crimes…

She brushed the thought aside, wetting her lips eagerly as a drawer full of files came into view. She grabbed up the first stack and held the pages before the light.

She blinked. Then deflated.

More patient records.

Hermione wasn't certain what she'd been expecting, but disappointment flooded her system.

She sighed, ignoring the feeling and doing her due diligence, flipping through every page, pain lancing through her chest each time she saw the word Suitable marring the final sheet.

She shook her head, grabbing more files.

What am I supposed to be seeing? Are these different from the others? Why are they locked away instead of kept in the records room downstairs?

She scanned the pages two, three times, looking looking looking-

Wait.

Her eyes widened.

Maybe…

She picked up a record she previously glanced at, focusing on the first page instead of the last.

And inhaled sharply.

She quickly flipped open another folder, and then another…

Dear god.

They dated back forty years.

Chills ran up her spine.

It's been going on for decades…

What evil is this?

Hermione grabbed more records, the dates becoming more recent until she reached a pile that was nearly thirty years old.

And suddenly something else caught her eye.

She blinked rapidly, assuming it was only a trick of the light, and brought the page directly in front of the lantern.

Her chest broke open, breastbone splitting down the middle, ribs tearing through muscle.

No.

Hermione grabbed another folder from the same pile and flipped it open, eyes scanning desperately-

There it was again.

She shook her head.

It wasn't possible.

She quickly opened a third file.

And a fourth.

It can't be. It doesn't make sense.

She clenched the papers tightly in her hand, glancing around frantically, as though some other clue would lend itself to this mystery...

And caught a glimpse of something on the wall behind the dollhouse.

She set the pages aside and picked up the lantern, holding it high above her head.

Her lungs compressed violently as the image came into view.

Writing. In bright red charcoal, scribbled in a childlike hand.

And suddenly, somehow, Hermione understood…

This was what she was meant to find.

These four simple words.

This blood chilling message.

the Dollmaker is coming