Chapter 26

Harry adjusted his robes as he stared into his mirror. He glared for a half moment at his wayward hair, mentally and physically willing it to lay flat. As was usual, it failed to listen. Harry did one final check to make sure everything was in place and that his boots were shining before emerging from his room. His father was hosting numerous associates of both the business and Death Eater nature and their families over for dinner. As family heir, it was Harry's responsibility to look extremely presentable. He stopped on the second floor of the manor to collect Atria. The little girl twirled around in her lacey white dress. Harry smiled, straightened her bow, and took her hand to lead her downstairs into the ballroom, where the family and its guests would mingle until the meal was ready.

The complete members of the Black family were the first to arrive. Harry left Atria with some of the younger children and walked over to join his father, Lucius, and Draco in conversation. Having both turned seventeen, the boys were no longer allowed to mingle with the underage children for more than a couple of minutes. Harry hardly minded. Apart from his sister, he didn't particularly care for the younger children. Also, it was more time to spend with his father. He knew Draco appreciated the time too.

There was perhaps time for one round of drinks before an elf chimed the dinner bell. The host family and its guests adjured into the massive dinning hall. Families all sat together, Sirius at the head and Regulus far across from him. Harry sat to the right of his father, Atria between him and Draco. Harry reminded Atria to place her napkin in her lap before the party began their first course. As dinner continued, the hall was abuzz with conversation.

After desert had been consumed, Sirius tapped his wine glass with his fork. The noise echoed through the hall, and voices died down into silence. Sirius's grey eyes swept over those seated at his table. He stood, and all eyes followed his movements. Many of his guests were watching with eager, curious faces. They all knew exactly what was going on, and they had been waiting years to hear Sirius's decision. "I must first thank all of you for joining us here this evening," Sirius began. A polite clap filled the hall as a return of thanks for invitation. "This decision was made many years ago, and I know that each of you are keen to finally learn what I determined to be the best choice."

Several people sat up straighter.

"All of you have joined my family to bear witness to the official engagement of my son and heir to Miss Sabina Nott."

Several families, those who never had a chance, applauded. The daughters who might have once been considered for the Black heir pouted as their parents whispered to each other. Sirius and Mr. Nott toasted each other as Adrienne and Mrs. Nott shared a polite nod. Bellatrix and Narcissa both looked very pleased. Atria happily told Draco that she would have a sister.

Harry sat motionless in his seat beside his father. He was completely numb. He was engaged? His father had found him a wife?

The small logical voice in his head whispered that of course Sirius had arranged his marriage. That was the way of things in their society. Harry was foolish for having forgotten. Being seventeen, he should have been expecting this, especially after Draco's had been announced just last month.

He looked down the table. Sabina was watching him, and when she noticed his gaze, she offered him a small smile and nodded.

And then Harry thought of Hermione. Looking back, he was proud he hadn't cursed aloud. The Muggle was going to be furious with him. She'd rant and rave about how backwards the tradition was, and she'd scream at him for not telling her about it. She'd claim he was just using her. She'd refuse to be a mistress.

The rest of the evening was a blur. All Harry could think of was Hermione's disappointed face. He didn't register the handshakes of congratulations he received from men both his age and his father's. He barely noticed when Draco clapped him on the back later that night, claiming Sabina to be a fine lady, one who would make an excellent lady of the manor. He hardly paid attention as he and Sabina were properly presented to each other.

Finally all the guests departed, the Notts being the last family to go. Harry was quick to excuse himself for the night. Sirius gave him Atria to put to bed. After tucking the girl in, Harry went into his room and removed his broom from his shelf. He locked his door and flew out the window.

Hermione sat at her vanity table. It was rather late in the night, later than she was usually up. Her mother had bought her a particularly interesting book that morning, and she hadn't been able to stop reading until she had reached the end. Hermione took a ball of cotton and lightly soaked it with a potion. She dabbed it over her face and tossed it into the trash bin. She sprayed another potion into her hair and began to brush through her thick locks.

At the sound of a light tap on her window, Hermione looked over. Seeing Harry floating outside, she smiled. With a flick of her wand, her wireless came to life and the window opened smoothly. She continued to brush her hair as Harry soared into the room and propped his broom against the wall. He walked over and met her for a quick kiss. Hermione smiled and pulled her hair back.

"I wasn't expecting you tonight," she said. Harry shrugged. Hermione smiled at him through the mirror, but quickly frowned again. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "Why?"

Hermione just shrugged. She yawned. "You came pretty late, though. I was about to go to bed."

"I'll just stay until you fall asleep," Harry said following her over to her bed. Hermione climbed under the comforter, and Harry sat beside her. He immediately wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Hermione blinked up at him. Harry usually wasn't one for a big show of affections, even if they were always alone and away from prying eyes. She usually had to snuggle up next to him for several minutes before he'd hug her like this.

"Are you sure there's nothing wrong, Harry," she asked. "You look sort of off."

"I just want to sit here and hold you for a while, all right, Muggle," Harry said gently so as not to anger her. "Please." Hermione stared hard at him for a moment before nodding and laying her head against his chest. He squeezed her tightly and kissed the top of her head. He pushed bitter thoughts of his engagement from his mind and focused on the girl in his arms. He didn't know if he'd be able to do this much longer.

Harry shut the door to the prefects' compartment on the Hogwarts Express after the last of the prefects had filed out. Behind him came the sound of a giggle. He turned around with a smirk to face a laughing Hermione. "This whole thing is absolutely perfect," she said with a grin.

"What," Harry asked, "you didn't see this coming?" He gestured from his Head Boy badge to her Head Girl one.

"Well," Hermione said with a blush, "I suppose so."

"So modest," Harry said as he took a seat.

Hermione smiled slyly and slid into his lap. Harry slipped his arms around her waist. "We'll have our own suite," she said with a wink.

Half surprised by her suggestive tone, Harry asked, "Really?"

Sitting up straight and resuming her normal, no-nonsense manner, Hermione said, "Of course, I won't be putting out."

Harry frowned and pushed her from his lap. "You know, you really can't say things like that to a teenage boy and then so suddenly rip it from his grasp."

"And here I was thinking you'd been raised a gentleman," Hermione laughed. She took her own seat next to him and rested her hand over his. "But it'll be nice, not having to sneak around to see each other."

Harry smiled and gave her a quick kiss. "Yeah," he said. "It'll be nice."

They remained in the compartment a while longer, Hermione attempting to discuss their head activities and duties while Harry only put up a halfhearted effort. He didn't so much care about the duties as he did the title. Of course, it was expected that a Black should be a Head Boy. It was just the way of things. Finally figuring they had been putting it off long enough, Harry and Hermione made their way to their respective friends' usual compartments. Harry reached the Slytherins' compartment first. In the usual way, he snapped the door shut behind him without so much as a glance back at her. Hermione continued down the halls and slipped into the Gryffindor compartment.

Ron, Ginny, and Neville all greeted her warmly, while Ginny's Ravenclaw friend Luna Lovegood smiled dreamily at her. Hermione placed herself in the seat next to Ginny and began to catch up with the rest of them.

After finally arriving at Hogwarts and the Sorting finished, Professor Dumbledore began the feast in his usual way. Hermione chuckled and dug into her roasted chicken. At one point she glanced over at the Slytherin table to see Harry sitting, as usual, next to his cousin, but unusually next to Sabina Nott. Sabina was a sixth year, Hermione knew, Theodore Nott's younger sister. Nott was perhaps one of the few other people in the world Harry considered an equal and worthy of his time. But Hermione wondered why he was sitting next to Nott's sister. She also wondered why Sabina was trying to nuzzle up next to him. Harry was treating her as he treated any other girl who tried to push herself upon him. He wasn't acknowledging her advances, but he wasn't exactly pushing her off either.

Hermione frowned. She could feel that wicked little jealous flame growing inside of her. As Hermione was very comfortable with herself, she didn't often have chances to show to the world exactly how jealous she could become. But if this girl didn't back off her man, she was going to be in for a world of hurt.

As if her stare was tangible, Harry glanced up and his grey eyes flickered over to the Gryffindor table. Seeing the fire in his secret lover's eyes directed at him, he calmly muttered something to the younger girl and she moved away from him. He then resumed his meal as though nothing had ever happened.

As the year progressed, Hermione was becoming more and more immersed in her textbooks. She'd had two minor breakdowns back in fifth year studying for O.W.L.s, and everyone could see repeats coming more than a mile away. It took physical restraint from either Harry or Ron and Neville to force her to take breaks. Although it made Hermione furious and worried at the time, they knew she'd thank them after the tests were over.

As they sat in their common room, Harry had finally convinced Hermione that it was perfectly acceptable and, in fact, healthy for her to take a small study break. He collected her in his arms and stretched out against the couch. Hermione began to chat, but Harry soon interrupted her. "Hermione, can we not talk right now," he asked, his tone leaving no room for her to try and argue.

Hermione frowned for a moment but rested her head on his chest. She was getting a bit worried about him, about them. Harry had been acting strangely for several months now. He always seemed to be off in another world. Hermione didn't think it was because he was a Death Eater now. She had certainly seen the Dark Mark on his arm, and he had told her a little bit about it. Memories of the initiation made him visibly shudder, and Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to know. Either way, he refused to tell her.

The problem wasn't that he wasn't spending time with her. In fact, he seemed to be attempting to be around her more. If anything was suffering from lack of time together, it was her relationship with Neville and Ron, but they just passed it off as usual Hermione studying. But Harry almost never spoke with her anymore, and he didn't let her speak much. He seemed completely content to just sit with her on the couch or in curled up in one of the beds.

Hermione was worried, but she wasn't exactly sure what to be worried about. She had heard plenty of times from Lavender and Parvati about relationships where their boyfriends had stopped talking. But in those instances, talking had been replaced with snogging until the relationship just ended. Harry and Hermione didn't snog any more or any less than a normal couple. But Hermione didn't understand what the problem was. She had tried asking Harry if something was bothering him, but he always brushed off her concerns, saying it was simply pureblood business and nothing for her to lose sleep over. It wasn't an answer she was ever pleased with, but even after all the years she had known him, Hermione still didn't have a way to force Harry into anything he didn't wish to do. Persistence didn't help.

It wasn't until much later in the year that Hermione was able to figure out what was wrong with Harry. It was perhaps blind, jealous rage, built up from seeing him one too many times in the hall with Sabina Nott, that aided her in sitting Harry down in a chair and demanding him to come clean with her. It was also perhaps that same jealous rage that caused Hermione to throw him back into the chair when he stood to retreat—although as a Black he would not call it that—back to the Slytherin common room.

"What's going on, Harry," she asked with a slight hiss. "What's happened to the trust? You used to tell me about the things that were bothering you, like when your father married Adrienne or before Atria was born. You've even told me some things about the Death Eaters. What's so different now?"

"It's nothing for you to worry about," Harry said roughly. "It's pureblood business, family business, and you are not a part of my family, Muggle."

"Despite the fact that I've heard almost every other bit of family business," Hermione retorted. "I just want to know whether or not you trust me."

Harry nearly snorted. "That ought to be obvious by now. Of course I trust you."

"Then why won't you talk to me," Hermione asked. He just frowned. "Harry, you have to understand how difficult this is for me. I know you're a man's man," she said in a sarcastic manner, causing Harry's frown to deepen, "but I'm a woman. Women need to talk, especially about our relationships. If something's going wrong, we need to find another girl and talk with her about it. I can't do that. No one can know about us, and I know that. So I can't talk to anyone because there's no reason I should have to keep a relationship a secret." Her shoulders dropped. "Can't you at least appreciate that?"

Harry flicked a piece of lint from his pants. "I could," he said simply.

"Dammit, Harry, I am three seconds from jinxing you to China," Hermione said shrilly as her fingers twitched, eager to hold her wand. Harry merely arched a brow.

Hermione let out a cynical laugh. "You don't trust me," she said, cutting Harry off before he could speak, "no, you don't. If you did, you would tell me what the problem was. But for some reason you've lost trust in me. So, should I trust you anymore? Should I think you're maybe using me for something? Maybe for a little side action? You can't take me out in public, so I'm just what you use on the side. That Nott girl's perfectly acceptable to your family, isn't she?" Hermione couldn't hold back a jealous snarl.

Harry's disinterested expression suddenly turned cold and he stood. "Don't start with that, Muggle," he growled. "When have I ever treated you like that at all? I've never done anything to disrespect you in such a manner."

"So is that why you're always around that Nott girl," Hermione accused. She was being irrational, she knew that, but she was frustrated and fed up. "I'm not blind, you know."

"I've never done anything with her," Harry said lowly. His eyes were practically glowing with fire.

"How can you expect me to believe you," Hermione asked. "I don't think you've been honest with me all year. Ever since summer you've been acting strangely. If you don't want to be around me, then just say it. If you'd prefer to have a girlfriend your father will like, then say it. If you can't stand me because I'm a mudblood—"

Harry stood from his chair, towering over her. "She's my fiancée," he yelled. Hermione gasped and her hands flew over her mouth. "My father and Mr. Nott both agreed on it." Harry hadn't actually meant to tell her, but he oddly felt better for having done it. Hermione stared at him breathing heavily. She opened her mouth as if to respond but quickly shut it. She narrowed her eyes and sneered at him. Her cheeks were quickly turning red, and her hair was practically alive with electricity. She stormed past him and into her room.

Harry expected to hear it slam and turned when it didn't. Then he could hear the rustling of her drawers. He walked into her room. "Hermione, what are you doing?" She bluntly ignored him as she shoved several sets of clothes and her books into her bag. She grabbed her wand from her bedside table and walked past him out of the room. "Hermione," Harry said as he followed her, "stop. What are you doing?" He reached out and grabbed her arm.

Hermione spun around, her eyes alight with fire and her wand less than an inch from Harry's nose. As she had never so much as dyed his hair in her most angered state, Harry was shocked and dropped her arm. Hermione took the opportunity to stomp from the common room.

When Hermione burst into the Gryffindor Tower, several people jumped clear out of the armchairs. Hermione quickly scanned the room. Then she turned and walked up the stairs, slamming her feet onto each as hard as she could. The door nearly flew off its hinges as Hermione entered the seventh year boys' room. Dean and Seamus were quick to slip by her and down into the safety of the common room. "Hermione," Neville asked cautiously as he eyed the other two Gryffindor's retreating backs, already wishing he could follow.

Ron noted the bag hanging over her shoulder filled with clothes. "What's wrong?"

"I can't stand him," Hermione screamed, flinging her bag to the floor. Both boys were greatly surprised to see textbooks fly out and land ungracefully and crumpled by the furnace.

"Who," Neville asked.

"Black," Hermione growled. "Harry Black is a complete prat. He's such a narcissistic, self centered, egotistical prat! I've never met anyone—! I swear, I could just—!" She screamed again in sheer frustration.

"Hey," Neville said walking up behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders. "Calm down, Hermione. Take a deep breath."

"Right," Ron said warily. "Close quarters with that Slytherin just got to you. Stay in the Tower for a couple of days and ride it out. You'll be fine."

Hermione wiped furiously at her eyes. She couldn't ever recall a time she had felt so angry and so betrayed. Harry had just been using her. She was just some forbidden piece of fruit, just something to do until he was ready to grow up and get married and make more little pureblooded babies. She had been stupid to think that someone like Harry could ever really care about someone like her. She was stupid for still being in love with him.

It was some weeks before Harry was finally able to corner Hermione and talk to her again. She had been soundly ignoring every owl he'd sent her. It was a miracle in itself that she had allowed all the prefects to leave their meeting room before she realized that Harry was also there. She stood and began to walk to the door, but Harry snapped it shut and locked it. Hermione glared at him. "We need to talk," he said.

"There's nothing to talk about," Hermione said. "I get it. You don't want to be with a mudblood you can't even be seen with. Fine."

"I don't have a choice in the matter," Harry said.

Hermione chuckled. "Right," she said. "Image is everything with the old families."

"My father decided this," Harry said. "I never gave any consent to marrying her."

"Of course," Hermione said as though she were merely humoring him.

Harry frowned. "God dammit, Hermione, would you stop that and listen to me," Harry growled.

Hermione blinked. Harry didn't curse, at least not in front of women. He was being serious?

"It's another one of the old traditions, arranged marriages. Everyone in my family has an arranged marriage, my mother and father, my grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles. Atria will have one. When her intended turns seventeen, it will be announced. That's the way of things. I don't know why I forgot about it," Harry explained.

"Your father picked out your wife for you," Hermione asked.

"When I was still a baby," Harry said. "It's the way of things. When Father announced mine, I just didn't want to think about it. I don't have any desire to marry Sabina. But it's going to have to happen, and I just wanted to be with you and without that as long as I could."

"Harry," Hermione said, "I'm not going to be—"

"A mistress, I know," Harry said. "I wouldn't ask you to be one. I just wanted to hold onto it while we still could."

"Do you mean all that," Hermione asked.

"Hermione, I—I love you," Harry sighed. "Salazar only knows why, but I do. If there was some way I could get out of this arrangement with Sabina, I would. But the only ways would either bring my family great shame or I'd have to kill her." Hermione's eyes widened, but before she could protest, Harry chuckled, "But you'd never have that."

Hermione sighed. "Your family is so backwards," she muttered. Then she smiled at him. She stepped forward and hugged him.

Harry wrapped his arms around her tightly. He kissed the top of her bushy head. "So I am to assume that everything is all right for now," he asked.

"Well, I am still angry with you for not telling me," she said. "This whole fight could have been avoided if you had just sat me down and talked to me."

"Right," Harry said. "Lesson learned." They remained embraced for several more minutes before Harry asked, "Done with N.E.W.T.s?" Hermione nodded. "Good, let's head back to the common room."

"Oh," Hermione exclaimed, "I can't. I have to go to the headmaster's office. He wanted to see me." Harry raised a brow. "And I'm late too. I'll see you in the rooms." She reached up and pecked his cheek before running out of the room.

After reaching the stone gargoyle, Hermione dug around her bag for the notice from the headmaster. It contained the password. She cursed when her searched turned up futile. She thought about going to find a professor to seek the password, but she remembered that Fred and George Weasley claimed the password to Dumbledore's office was always a candy of sorts. "Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans," she tried. The statue remained motionless. "Blood Pops. Chocolate Frogs. Sugar Quills. Licorice Bites. Jelly Slugs?"

The gargoyle sprang to live and hopped away from the door to reveal the ever-winding staircase that led to Professor Dumbledore's office. Hermione stepped on and was brought up. She knocked on the great wooden door and was permitted entrance. "You wanted to see me, Headmaster," she asked.

"Ah, yes, Miss Granger, please come in," the old man said merrily. He motioned to the seat before his desk, and she took it. As she had only been inside the headmaster office once or twice, she was still very amazed with the large assortment of interesting objects he owned. The portrait of a former headmistress smiled warmly at her, and she returned the greeting before looking back to the aging wizard. "How did your exams fair?"

"Oh, they were lovely, sir," Hermione said sincerely.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Not many would use that word to describe the N.E.W.T.s," he said. "In fact, I believe I've only heard one other student say such a thing, a bright, young muggle-born witch, rather like you, Miss Granger."

Hermione blushed. "Thank you, sir," she said.

He smiled behind his long beard and crooked nose. "Now, I suspect you are quite curious as to why I've called you in here today," he said. Hermione nodded. "I have already had this similar discussion with Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom, after gaining permission from their respective guardians, but, of course, yours are not quite as involved as theirs."

Hermione was beginning to feel confused. "Perhaps you have heard, Miss Granger, of the Order of the Phoenix." Hermione's eyes widened and darted over to the magnificent bird perched beside Dumbledor's chair. She nodded. "The Order has been fighting diligently against Voldemort—" Hermione shuddered "—and his Death Eaters for many, many years now. It is perhaps due to this constant effort from many talented and dedicated witches and wizards that he has not succeeded in his goals of domination and destruction."

"You are an extremely bright and talented young witch, Miss Granger. I believe that whatever you desire to do with your life will lead you very far indeed. I will not pressure you, Miss Granger, but I would like for you to at least consider becoming a member of the Order. We could use someone of your talents," he said.

"You—you want me in the Order?" Hermione was shocked.

"As I have stated before, you are a talented witch, and a witch with a head for justice and fair treatment, if I was correctly interpreting the idea of SPEW," he chuckled. Hermione smiled, always proud of her creation. Dumbledore continued, "Again, do not feel pressured, Miss Granger. If you don't feel comfortable joining, no one would ever think less of you. It is a very large step, especially considering you still have a week until graduation."

Hermione wrung her hands together. "Sir, could I maybe think about it for a while? Talk it over with my parents?"

"Of course," Dumbledore said, standing to let her know she was free to leave. "Take all the time you need, Miss Granger. The invitation will never expire."

"So what did the old blood traitor want," Harry asked as she arrived back in the common room. Hermione took a moment to frown at him, but Harry just shrugged.

Hermione took a deep breath. She knew this was going to be a long conversation. "Sit down, Harry."

Harry arched a brow. "Merlin, was it that serious of a conversation," he asked, then his eyes widened. "He doesn't know about us, does he?"

"No, no," Hermione said waving her hands. "Just sit. There's something we need to talk about." Harry sat on the couch, watching her nervously as she took a seat next to him. "I don't think there's an easy way to tell you this, so here it is. Dumbledore just invited me to join the Order of the Phoenix."

"No," Harry said immediately. "No, you aren't going to do it."

"Hold on a minute," Hermione said firmly. She grabbed his arm and showed him the Dark Mark. "You're a Death Eater."

Harry jerked his arm back and covered the Mark. "So? I had no choice in the matter."

"Would you have done if your father hadn't made you," Hermione asked. Harry was silent. "You were raised to think that serving You-Know-Who is what's right. That's why you joined up with him. But I was taught to believe that people like Dumbledore are right. Why should you be able to fight for what you believe but I can't?"

"No," Harry said. "Do you realize what this would do, Muggle? If you join that, it puts us even more against each other. We started as a pureblood against a muggle, now it'll be Death Eater against Order member. It'll only be a matter of time before it's you against me."

"Harry, we won't fight," Hermione said. "We've been on different sides of this war the whole time, but it hasn't ever caused us to fight."

"Don't be so naïve," Harry snapped. "We'd meet in battle one day, and we'd have to fight. And I could never throw a spell at you that would hurt you. My father would notice." He bowed his head.

Hermione reached forward and hugged him. "Harry, everything you've thought was impossible we've made work. What's so different about this?"

Harry chuckled, "For being so smart, Muggle, I'm beginning to see how stupid you really are."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, I want to do this. I want to make a difference in this war. I want to stand up for other muggle-borns. I want to protect my family. I told Dumbledore that I wanted some time to think things over and talk to my parents, but I will be joining soon."

"There's nothing I can do to stop you short of throwing you into a vanishing cabinet, is there," Harry asked. Hermione shook her head with a smile. "I don't like this at all. It's going to blow up in our faces. But, if I can't stop you, at least promise to be careful and fight as little as possible."

Hermione kissed his cheek. "I'll try," she said.