Notes: Thank you for the response to the previous chapter! I am afraid that their problems are not resolved in this one, and I feel I should warn that their drama and distance will be an ongoing subplot for a while yet. They each need to develop in different ways, and other plots need to get moving, before I can bring you the endgame and tie all the threads back together. Thanks again for sticking with this story!

Chapter Twenty-One: Magical Barriers

Tom did not so much as incline his head to look at Hermione when she entered the Great Hall. She did not particularly expect him to—she had not seen any indication in her previous year and a half of knowing him that he would instantly back down from a hard position he had taken—but it still offended her. She was in the right on this, and she knew it. Alliances of friendship were important, of course, but alliances of family should always take precedence unless there was a very good reason against it. Betrayal by a family member was essentially the only reason Hermione could think of for that, and nothing she had done was even in the proximity of a betrayal. Perhaps a Muggle noble could order his wife—or betrothed—to accept his friends irrespective of how she was treated, and would consider defiance of that command a betrayal, but Hermione had realized that the wizarding nobility regarded witches very differently to how Muggle lords regarded women. The wizarding nobility's value for family was sincere and consistent, since female members of the family were placed higher than a lord's friends.

On the other hand, Hermione had also concluded that the consistency in their value for family was directly linked with this focus on "purity of blood"—magical blood, in the case of most of them, or in Tom's case and perhaps that of his friends, ethnic "purity." That was the dark side… but Tom would have to come to terms with it. And if he kept these friends, so would they.

Haughtily she sat down at the Slytherin table next to him, but she did not allow any part of her body to touch him, and she paid no attention to him. He ignored her as well. Hermione ordered her breakfast verbally and began to eat once it appeared at her place.

In a few minutes, Harry emerged. He glanced from Hermione to Tom and vice versa, silently assessing the situation. Then he took his seat next to her and gave her a kind smile. To Hermione's surprise, Tom did not glare at Harry. He ignored both of them through the entire meal.

In a way, Hermione was relieved that she did not have to interact with Tom in most of her subjects now—at least for today. She did realize in the back of her mind that she would miss him in those classes once they had made up, but she expected to advance to the mastery classes next year just as he had. In the meantime, she would not be distracted from her work by the chill that currently lay between them.

In Potions and Alchemy, one of the classes that she did still share with Tom, she was rather taken aback when he paired up with Marcus Flint. After she and Harry had advanced to the intermediate level in this subject, Tom had insisted on being partnered with her, leaving Harry to Flint.

Harry observed the proceedings as silently as he had done at breakfast. Without a word, he took his place next to Hermione at the potions table. Hermione was relieved; despite her angry proclamations in the argument with Tom, she did not want to discuss the situation with Harry or anyone else. To do so would mean explaining just what she had said in her ultimatum, which she absolutely did not want to do—or it would mean lying about that. It was apparent that she and Tom were having difficulties, in any case, and Harry did not ask for the details.

While they worked on their potion, Harry asked her, in a low voice, "Would you like to come to another meeting tomorrow evening?"

Hermione did not need clarification. She nodded swiftly. "I am very interested in the group and would like to continue attending these meetings."

He smiled. "It's at the same place as before, then, and same time of day."

"I will be there."

The pattern continued for the rest of that day and through the following one: Tom hardly spoke to Hermione, and what little he did say were perfunctory comments about the type of magic they were studying that day. Hermione decided to let him stew in his own cauldron. He had been the one to say that they should return to being friends. If he really meant that, then he knew what the terms would be for her.

At last the time of the Friends of the Founders meeting arrived. Haughtily Hermione exited the Slytherin common room. Tom was deep in conversation in a dark corner with his friends, but when she stood up to leave, his head shot up and his gaze instantly fixed on her. She ignored his glare as she opened the door to meet Ginevra Weasley just outside. Harry had already gone to the meeting. For the sake of preventing damage to Hermione's reputation, they had decided that they had better go to these meetings separately, and that Hermione should be seen meeting a witch. No one else in the House except for Tom knew of the group's existence, so the rest of the Slytherins should think that she was spending time with female friends.

Hermione just hoped that Tom would not complain to his friends about what she was really doing. She did not trust those boys not to spread the most defamatory interpretation possible, even if so doing would tarnish Tom by association.

Along the way Ginevra had hardly a word to say. She seemed to be studying Hermione in order to decide what to think of her. Hermione decided she should do the same. At the previous meeting, Ginevra had been a bit of a mystery to Hermione, wary and distrustful of Slytherins in general but apparently more open-minded than her brothers. Come to think of it, Hermione thought, why aren't her brothers going to these meetings? Finally Hermione addressed Ginevra with just that question.

The young witch frowned in contemplation. "Well, three of my brothers are not at Hogwarts anymore," she said. "My brothers Fred, George, and Ronald, who are here, don't seem very interested." There was a certain degree of disdain in her words as she spoke of them. "Fred and George are twins, and they are more interested in opening a shop. I do not know what Ron—Ronald—wants to do," she said scornfully. "He follows them, mostly. But they all have little interest in political matters."

"But you do."

She gave Hermione a sideways look. "I suppose this must be outside the experience of a young lady such as yourself," she began, a barely perceptible sardonic note in her voice, "but my family have had a… peculiar view of family honor, in my opinion."

"How so?" Hermione asked, ignoring the faint jibe.

"Well, we lost our title when the Muggle Conqueror named Armand Malfoy his viceroy for wizards and witches. My great-grandparents would not swear to him. Since then, Weasleys have been farmers and have taken pride in this condition. My father has this view. He thinks that ambitious people, or rather, people who aren't satisfied with what they have, are not fully trustworthy. However, I would like to help change the situation and help my family."

Hermione considered that, thinking of her fight with Tom in which she had accused him of precisely that. However, it seemed to her that there was quite a difference between wanting to regain a noble title that one's family had held merely a couple of generations ago, and wanting to become king when one's ancestors had not held a throne in six centuries—and when one already was heir to a wealthy fief. Wanting to change the political situation to take some of the power of the Wizards' Council away, however, was a different matter, and Hermione could not fault Tom for that desire. She wondered what the Weasley family in general thought about that goal.

"What about your other brothers?" she asked Ginevra. "Do they want to improve their lot or change the political situation?"

"I think a couple of them do. My eldest brother, William, is adventuring in France. I don't think it has anything to do with the Muggles of Normandy," she said at once. "He said he's trying to track down some goblins who worked with Gryffindor during his lifetime and"—she lowered her voice—"bring them back here, for our side. Charlie is saving money to go to Wales, where there is a lord who breeds dragons, Lord Rhygar. He intends to enter this wizard's service. And Percival was named a master last year and he is currently helping my father on our farm. I think he wants to become a knight, but he is having trouble getting a noble benefactor. He's even considering Muggle lords now, but he would probably have to take a side in the Muggle conflict if he did. I hope he doesn't do that, but I do respect him for his ambitions."

Hermione recalled that Ginevra's Sorting had taken a long time, and with this information, she believed she could guess what other House the Hat had considered for her. That was interesting indeed, considering how much suspicion Ginevra seemed to have for Slytherins.

They reached the seventh floor and the corridor where the Come-and-Go Room lay. The girls entered the room and sat next to Luna Lovegood. Harry and Neville presided, and when everyone had arrived, they called the meeting to order.

"My friend Neville has an important announcement to make," Harry declared, as Neville stood by looking uncomfortable and awkward. "But before he does, I have to remind everyone that we have taken an oath of silence regarding the existence of this group—at least, telling anyone who is a Malfoy ally. I must ask all of you to speak to no one of what Neville is going to say." He hesitated for a moment. "When this thing happens, it will not be secret—as you will see—but we can't risk letting anyone know in advance that it is going to happen. The Wizards' Council have been bold lately about issuing extreme orders and they would try to prevent it… or punish good people for even talking about it."

There were murmurs of agreement and assent.

"Very well. Neville," Harry said, gesturing to his friend to speak.

Next to Hermione, Ginevra perked up almost imperceptibly as Neville took Harry's place. The look on her face was a bit hard for Hermione to read—it was not the obvious look of a fancy, but there was definitely respect there. That was interesting. Luna Lovegood was just as interested in Harry as before, her wide blue eyes never leaving his face, but the ferocity that Hermione had seen in her face in the previous meeting was gone, replaced with the self-assured complacency that she possessed. Perhaps the two witches had come to an understanding, then.

Neville Longbottom cleared his throat and began to explain. "My father, the mayor of Hogsmeade, is going to summon the farmholders and heads of guilds to his house for a vote this spring about whether to acclaim Master Dumbledore as lord and join Hogsmeade with Hogwarts." He looked down at his shoes. "They expect to win the vote, but as Harry said, if this got out early, Lord Malfoy would try to stop it from happening and would probably seize the village."

The young people present in the room digested this.

"I don't understand how that works," said Ernest Macmillan, the Hufflepuff boy. "If Master Dumbledore isn't a lord, how can it be legal to swear to him as one?"

Neville looked troubled by the question. He did not seem to have an answer, and neither did Harry. But Hermione did know the answer to that, and she spoke up eagerly. "The precedent comes from the days of the Founders," she explained in the same tone of voice that she used for the professors. "They were all lords and ladies. If you read the Codex of Wizarding Law, it actually declares that the High Master of Hogwarts is lord of the castle—or lady, if it's a witch. The Malfoys ran Godric Gryffindor out of his personal estate, but he was Lord of Hogwarts in addition to Lord of Godric's Hollow, and they never abolished that title. Since Armand Malfoy arrived, they haven't used a noble title, but the law does say that. I read about it in histories of Hogwarts."

Harry and Neville looked relieved. "Thank you, Lady Hermione," Harry said politely, making sure to use her title before the group.

Hermione herself was still troubled by a couple of things, and she decided to speak up now. "There is one thing that worries me, though," she said haltingly. "The Wizards' Council issued an order recently that anything they say—which is to say, anything Armand Malfoy says—carries the same weight as the Codex of Law. What is to prevent them from stripping Dumbledore of authority to accept anyone's oath of fealty and seizing the village anyway?"

"Nothing," Harry said glumly. "They can do that if they choose to. But Neville's parents hope that they won't do it. Everything they intend to do is legal and normal. Hogsmeade is not currently part of any lord's fief, so they have a right to swear to one… and since you just told us all that the High Master of Hogwarts was never stripped of a title, it wouldn't be against the law for Dumbledore to accept someone's oath. If they retaliated, it would look really vindictive."

After the meeting adjourned, Hermione turned to Ginevra. "Perhaps your brother Percival should enter Dumbledore's service after this happens."

Ginevra did not look convinced. "I will mention it to him after the Longbottoms have held their vote. He may be interested, perhaps."

Tom still did not deign to acknowledge Hermione that evening. Evidently he had figured out where she had gone. Let him simmer, she fumed as she went to bed. The Friends of the Founders are at least planning to make alliances—or their family members are, anyway. What can he boast of with his little group? He thinks the Friends have another agenda, but what can it be other than to restore their own lost status? Ginevra all but told me that that's what she wants for her own family. There is nothing suspicious about that. She remembered Ginevra's possible interest in Neville Longbottom. Yes, she definitely stood to benefit if the Longbottoms' actions ended up raising their status and she pursued the young man.

Am I thinking of this strictly as a noble-raised person would? Hermione wondered. Ginevra was almost placed in Slytherin—I absolutely believe that—and if the Hat was inclined to put her there of its own accord, she actually is more Slytherin-like than I am. But does she have an agenda other than social climbing? For Neville's sake, I hope she does. Hermione was sure that the awkward, shy young man would welcome the attentions of a determined witch, so she hoped that Ginevra actually did like him. But this is none of my business, she reminded herself. She was glad that Harry had not asked her about the troubles in her betrothal to Tom, and she was not going to insert herself into her friends' personal affairs either.

Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.

Armand and Abraxas Malfoy sat in their vast parlor as Arcturus Black was admitted to the room. The fourth member of the Wizards' Council, Rodolphus Lestrange, was not present, by design—Abraxas's design. He was certain that if they had invited Lestrange, his wife Bellatrix would insist upon attending as well. Lestrange imagined himself a strong husband in the classical and Germanic mold, a patriarch who had little use for the female-accepting traditions of the ancient Celtic culture of this country, but in truth Lady Bellatrix could get her way quite readily on most matters. Even worse according to Abraxas's reckoning, she was a terrible influence on him. She would persuade him to her strident, violent ideas especially well, Abraxas thought, since it was their family that would be the topic of this meeting with Black—and that was unacceptable in this case. It was already going to be a challenge for him and Black to persuade Father to a moderate response to Lady Riddle's provocation, one that would not provoke an uprising. The two Lestranges together would reinforce and exacerbate Father's worst tendencies and outnumber the more reasonable voices. Abraxas had therefore neglected to tell Lestrange of this meeting. Inevitably they would have to do so, but better to present the outcome as a fait accompli—and a gift of sorts.

Arcturus Black was seated. He regarded the two Malfoys with suspicion and reserve.

Armand spoke first. "Welcome, kinsman. As you know, the blood-traitor Riddle lady has named our ally and kin Lord Lestrange an enemy, because he accepted the oath of the Carrows."

Black nodded stiffly.

"This cannot stand unanswered, of course," Malfoy continued. "It is true, of course, that the Carrows broke their prior oaths to the Gaunt family, but due to the law that we recently passed, I can pardon them, and I will do so."

"My lord father has already signed a pardon to that effect," Abraxas added.

Armand smirked. "Of course, I do not expect the blood-traitor to lift her declaration against the Lestrange family. Therefore we have called you here to discuss retaliation against her for this outrage."

Black glared outward, then instantly rearranged his face. "Oh?" he said mildly. "What do you have in mind, my lord?"

"I want to proclaim her in rebellion against the Wizards' Council for naming a family seated on it as her enemy," Malfoy said baldly. "I cannot actually accuse her of treason, since she is not sworn to Lestrange, but I can vouch for Lestrange and name her a rebel. This justifies removing the half-blood and Mudblood from Hogwarts, of course."

This was exactly why Abraxas had not wanted the Lestranges present: They would have seconded this view, and Father would have taken shelter under their superior numbers. But Abraxas could see that Black thought as he did about this idea.

"I have… concerns… about that, my lord, with all respect," Black said haltingly. "Even if you do pardon the Carrows, there will be sympathy for Lady Riddle's actions, because they did break their oaths. Lady Riddle's brother may have been a loathsome lord, but they continued to avoid their obligations to the family even after she assumed the title."

"She is a blood-traitor who bore a half-blood son and betrothed him to a Mudblood. That is reason enough to break an oath to her."

"Many people will not agree," Black said cautiously. "And another thing, there is a tradition in old English culture that nobles may name enemies among other nobles as long as it is not treason against one's own lord. There will be sympathy for her, and if you make war on her for this, it risks expanding to include more than just her."

"You do know much about your English traditions," Armand sneered. "What did your people call it? Weregild?"

"That is invoked after a murder," Black said, "but it is another of the same kind of custom."

"We should stamp out uncivilized customs like that," Armand declared. "My allies and I attempted to establish clear lines of authority in this country, as opposed to that anarchic body that you used to have. I do not want to coddle this, and I will not. My mind is made up. I am going to declare her a rebel, expel the half-blood and Mudblood from Hogwarts for their acts of defiance, and try to seize the woman's castle." He folded his arms and stared out from Black to his son and back again.

Abraxas's face instantly became calm. "Very well, my lord father," he said in soothing tones. "Your word is law."

"That it is." He summoned Dobby the house-elf to bring them some wine.

Abraxas observed Arcturus Black's face as they drank their wine. The man was appalled at Lord Malfoy's behavior, clearly. Would Black support him if he acted against his own father? It was a risk….

Armand had a second goblet of wine. The other wizards observed as he grew drowsy from the drink. Abraxas made up his mind. When his father rose from his seat to get something off a shelf, he decided to act. With a quick glance at Arcturus, he drew his wand and pointed it at his father's back.

"Stupefy," he whispered. Across the room, Armand collapsed onto a sofa. Abraxas arose and went to where his father lay.

Black was gazing at Abraxas in surprise and respect as the latter wizard cast the complex charm to implant a false memory into someone's mind. Abraxas felt ashamed of what he was doing, but clearly, it had to be done. His father was not acting sensibly anymore. He felt guilty for his own part in giving him that accursed potion that he regularly drank.

"What came over me?" Armand muttered as his son helped him back into his chair.

"You took a fall," Abraxas explained. "It must have been the wine."

"Do you think that elf—"

"No, Father, I am sure it is just that this is a strong vintage. I feel a bit tipsy myself," he lied.

"Ah," said the elder Malfoy. "Well, I thank you for assisting me. Now, as we were discussing, you think that Burke will consent to marrying the Riddle lady with my new law in effect?"

Abraxas prayed that Black would go along. To his relief, Black instantly spoke in agreement.

"I do," he said, giving Abraxas a private but pointed look. "The law, as I understand it, would transfer lordship of the estate to a wizard husband of Lady Riddle. Burke's principal objection to the marriage was that he would have been a consort. If he was being sincere, then this should remove that objection."

"He also cited you," Armand said. "He wanted to get your permission first. I am to assume that you will give it?"

Arcturus took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes," he said. "I will."

"We will have to check on the status of her marriage to that Muggle," Abraxas said. "Even if they divorced, she made her wedding vows as a witch, with magical power behind a sworn oath, so she cannot remarry if he divorced her—unless she is willing to annul the vows, which she surely wouldn't."

"If he is still alive, it will be no trouble to kill him," Armand said evilly. "And if she refuses to marry Burke, then she will have to hide in that castle, with her son and the Mudblood. That is an act of rebellion."

Abraxas had modified his father's memories in which he entertained this very set of ideas. Clearly they had an appeal for him anyway. Abraxas hoped that it would not come to that. Surely the woman would see that it was better for her to consent to the marriage than to have to withdraw her son and Granger from Hogwarts and hide behind the magically protected walls of her castle indefinitely.

Arcturus Black soon sent the Malfoys a letter stating that Caractacus Burke had at last agreed to marry Merope Riddle under the terms of Lord Malfoy's new law. Abraxas was immensely relieved. This was how things should be, tense situations calmed by traditional political plays rather than war.

A couple of days later, he received a second owl. Tom Riddle Sr. was alive, he had divorced Lady Riddle, and he was remarried to a Muggle woman named Cecilia. Abraxas hated to receive that news. He did not like the thought of widowing someone, even a Muggle, merely as a means to an end. He himself had no feud with this Muggle… but it was necessary, unfortunately. They had no children, at least.

Abraxas presented his plan to Rodolphus Lestrange, who was pleased at the "gifts" that the rest of the Wizards' Council had presented him following their informal meeting at Malfoy Manor. He also liked the idea of his nemesis being under the thumb of a Wizards' Council ally and was eager to participate in the murder of the Muggle Riddle. Abraxas decided to let Lestrange do the honors. The less blood on his own hands, the better. Burke himself wanted to tag along, and Malfoy had no particular objection, he supposed.

Thus it was that one moonless night that winter, the trio of wizards sneaked into the village where Riddle and his new wife lived. They had a manor house befitting of a Muggle knight. Abraxas wondered why this Muggle was not fighting for either of the Muggle pretenders to the throne, as a knight… but some of the nobles were neutral. Evidently Riddle's lord was among them. It was a pity; a death in battle would be easy to arrange and seemed somehow less sordid than this dirty business.

Riddle's manor was on a hill inside the walls that surrounded his lord's much grander castle. From a distance, the wizards studied the entrance to the smaller house. There were posted guards, but they would pose little trouble for a company of well-armed Muggles, let alone people of magic. Of course, the knight's manor house was behind the walls of his lord's castle. These guards were meant to keep out peasants who worked for the lord. The wizards advanced forward—

Lestrange was the most eager. He had bounded forward, wand drawn, ready to kill, but some unseen force had thrown him back violently. He landed on his back, cursing fluently in both French and English.

Burke and Malfoy exchanged wary glances. Aware of the expectations he had as the social inferior of Malfoy, Burke edged forward to the spot where it seemed Lestrange had been flung back. He put a hand forward and met an invisible but solid barrier. It crackled against his skin with what could only be magic, not that there was any doubt about that. He drew his wand and began to cast spells into the air and at the ground, trying to diagnose what sort of shield kept them from entering.

Finally he pulled back and turned grimly to Malfoy and Lestrange. "There is a blood ward on this property," he said.

Lestrange rubbed the small of his back. "That bitch put it up!"

Burke nodded. "She must have. No one else would care. She must have anticipated that your lordships would try to pressure her into a marriage."

"Shrewd bitch," Lestrange repeated.

"What kind of blood ward is it?" Abraxas Malfoy asked Burke.

"It's a strong one, that's for certain. I think that she must have used her own blood to anchor it. The only thing stronger than that is a sacrifice of one's life. This kind of ward will protect the inhabitants of this property from any witch or wizard except her own kin. It protects not just the Riddle man, but also the lord and anyone inside these walls."

Lestrange considered that. "The Gaunts kept it in the family for a long time, but occasionally they did intermarry. Whom are they related to?"

"No one close enough to get through, your lordship," Burke said regretfully. "Blood charms this strong will only allow the closest of kin entry. That typically means a parent, sibling, or child."

"You said 'any witch or wizard.' Does it let Muggles in? It must, if this knight expects to conduct business or admit his own lord to the house," Lestrange said. A glint appeared in his eye. "Why don't we find a Muggle and put him under the Imperius Curse?"

Abraxas and Burke exchanged looks and tried to avoid showing their contempt for Lestrange. "That will not work," Abraxas said. "A titled Muggle like this one, even a knight, would not allow people to enter his home carrying weapons. Their guards take weapons and even tools away from visitors of lower status. The lord could go inside bearing a sword, but we cannot get at him either, since he is also behind the ward."

Lestrange was downcast. "That's a pity," he grumbled. "I suppose we have to hope that he goes to war or otherwise leaves this property."

Abraxas thought about it. "We could… but I will see if I can think of anything else."

Hogwarts.

It had been two weeks since Hermione had fought with Tom, and he was still barely speaking to her. He had returned to his perfunctory polite acts of courtesy such as escorting her around the castle, but their intimacy had vanished. Each night she second-guessed herself as she lay in bed, the weight of the day's events pressing against her mind.

I'm going to marry him anyway, she comforted herself, twisting the emerald ring on her finger like a good-luck charm. We're going to marry. He will surely make amends with me long before our wedding, once he has reconciled himself to the inevitable. I just hope that he won't…. Hermione was unwilling to complete that thought in words. The idea of Tom going to other girls for what she was no longer giving him made her feel physically sick. He never did before me, she thought. He did not even have an innocent sweetheart. He also said himself that he would not touch anyone else—promised it, in fact—and he knows what the vows of a wizard mean. He also knows that he can have me again if he will just take a firm hand with those friends of his and tell them that they have to accept me. Somewhat comforted by this, Hermione plumped her pillow and tried to go to sleep.

Her dreams were turbulent and distressing. A great serpent slithered its way down a dark corridor, taking what Hermione knew in her dream was an inexorable path toward her. She tried to escape it, but finally, the nightmare reached the inevitable conclusion that all dreams of being chased reached.

Right before the serpent found her, the dream shifted as her brain recoiled from the terrible imagining. Now she was watching as a man she did not recognize stared at a witch whose back was turned. Hermione knew the witch was Merope, her own second mother, and she wanted to call out to warn her that the man meant her harm, but her voice was muted. When Merope finally turned around, the wizard had vanished into the ether of dreams.

The dream shifted again, presenting Hermione with an image of Adelaide Lestrange. Strangely, Hermione did not feel the bitter anger toward this girl in the dream that she did in real life. Adelaide was staring into space, unaware of Hermione's presence, and although Hermione did not know what was wrong, in the dream she felt pity for her enemy in waking life.

She then slipped into deep sleep and remembered no more dreams. Time passed, and the next thing she was aware of was the magical bell that she had set for herself waking her up. She dressed, still brooding over the dreams. The serpent dream was surely a reflection of the fear that Tom would find the alleged basilisk of Slytherin, as well as general anxiety over her relationship with him. She definitely knew that Merope had enemies. What the dream about Adelaide meant, if anything, she could not begin to guess.

Divination is mostly rubbish, she told herself as she left her bedchamber. Dreams do not always mean anything, and it's impossible to sort out which ones do and which ones don't. She walked down the corridor and entered the Slytherin common room.

Professor Slughorn was standing in the room, several students gathered around him. Tom was among them.

"The ritual will take place on the first of May, of course," he was explaining to them. "As you undoubtedly know, it will result in a season-long charm of good fortune—a blessing, our ancestors called it—upon the task that you choose to charm, or bless, during the rite. Traditionally, due to the ancient significance of Beltane, this is a romantic relationship," Slughorn said, with a wink at Tom and a couple of others.

Tom did not respond even with a smile. Hermione felt a pang.

"However," Slughorn continued, "there is no requirement in the ritual that it must be. If you are interested in taking part in this ritual, there will be special tutoring in the advanced magic that it will entail."

Tom smiled. "I am certainly interested, and I am honored to be selected for this, Professor."

Hermione stood in the shadowed threshold of the door leading to the girls' dormitories. Slughorn did not notice her, and she was not sure that Tom did either.

When Slughorn left the room, she took a deep breath and walked forward. "Congratulations, my lord," she said, her tones chilly even to her ears. "I remember you told me that you wanted to do this." She hoped that the reminder of what their relationship ought to be would soften him to her again.

Tom gazed at her smugly. "Thank you, my lady. I believe it is time for breakfast, though." He offered her his arm without an iota of warmth, but she took it anyway. She was not going to be intimate with him in any fashion until he changed his attitude, but she still longed for his touches, even those that meant little.