Draco had once again been uncommonly silent on the entire journey aboard the Hogwarts Express. Hermione had tried to catch his sight a few times but gave up after he bought her a sandwich from the trolley for lunch, meeting his unwelcoming gaze. Now however, they had left the train, packed only with small backpacks and watching the platform 9 for Narcissa.

"And I guess that you are still not planning on telling me why you changed your mind all of a sudden?" Hermione asked once more.

Draco only reluctantly looked away from Padma Patil's bum. Both Patil twins had their large trunks and stood between their parents, their faces saddened by their departure. They wouldn't come back after the holidays.

"I told you that I just wanted to get rid of your constant nagging" he argued.

"You don't actually expect me to believe that, do you?"

He didn't answer. The next moment a heavily cloaked woman emerged from the wall of the platform and was now walking towards them in her dancing pace. Though her hood was falling deep on her bony face, it was easy for the trained and expecting eye to recognize the features of Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione swallowed difficultly.

"I thought your mother was picking us up from the train station!" she hissed as silently as she could, trying to keep her eyes off the infamous Death Eater.

"So did I" Draco argued with a flick of his tongue.

And then there were five, four, three steps and she was facing them, a crooked smile twisting her plumb, red lips. Hermione shivered. She smelled like blood and cream. One some days, the cream was replaced by musk or the sweat of a battle, but the blood was ubiquitous. Rolling a lock around her curved wand, she seemed to be both devouring and undressing Draco through her dark eyes.

"Draco, it is always a pleasure to see that my Occlumency lessons have borne fruit, but it is particularly rude to use it against your own auntie. Now tell me what the mudblood is doing here if I can't find out for myself" the dark witch ordered.

Hermione looked away as Bellatrix peered at her through her curtain of black locks.

"Why would you think Hermione's a mudblood? asked Draco, nearly amazed by his aunt's flawless senses.

"With enough training, you can smell corrupt blood from far. I knew since the first time she set foot in the manor. I'll teach you one day" she said, inspecting Hermione once more. "I would be surprised if Cissa is happy to see you bringing that home."

Hermione didn't react to Bellatrix's obviously faked oblivion of her presence, nor did she decide to give her opinion about the situation. This was Draco's battle with his family, and it was more than time that she heard from his mouth what he thought about her not being a pureblood – if he did understand that his aunt was actually right. But her friend only shrugged, a very faint smile on his greyish skin.

"On the contrary auntie, I believe that mother is actually very fond of Hermione" he defended on a rather unusual tone. "But aren't we expected at home soon?"

Hermione swallowed difficultly. It must have been her imagination. Draco couldn't know. If he had known, he would never have forgiven her. It couldn't be.

Bellatrix was shaken by a brief laugh, or rather a cackle. One of those childishly high tones whose connotations were yet so purely evil that Hermione could only shudder. Then, the Death Eater simply caressed Draco's chin and breathed something the brunette couldn't hear before turning on her light feet and walking across the platform as easily as if she wasn't an Azkaban fugitive on the run.

It was only as she walked through the wall first that Hermione saw Draco unclenching his fists.

Christmas dinner at the Malfoy's had always been the most terrifying, yet stunning event of a years at Hogwarts. Stunning of course for their particular talent at exuberating their wealth in the most imaginative ways, such as the dozens of exotic courses in the menus, the decoration tightly competing the one from the Yule Ball and the music, though not directly played by an orchestra – Narcissa insisted on some privacy over these days – had always been of the best taste. Terrifying still, for not even Narcissa herself could predict who would show up, especially lately.

Today the humongous table had been set for Narcissa, Draco, Bellatrix, Hermione and a fifth mystery guest. Then, all of a sudden Rodolphus Lestrange and the Carrow sibling appeared out of nowhere after they forced a house-elf to let them in, ravenous from their latest hunting trip. After this intrusion, Hermione was only half surprised to discover that the fifth seat had originally been kept for no other than Professor Snape. How could old Dumbledore still believe that Snape was in his petticoats if that same man allowed himself to have a cosy Christmas dinner with a whole bunch of well-known Death Eaters? And some said the old man was a genius.

Seated between her professor and Draco, Hermione couldn't really allow herself to look up to the too née Black sisters facing her. She had never been good at hiding her emotions. This way, the bare foot that fondled with her leg caught her even more by surprise. Even the Carrow woman stopped talking as Hermione spat out her soup. Professor Snape gave an impatient tongue flick, Bellatrix Lestrange a mocking cackle and Narcissa a slight smile. Only Draco kept eating as if nothing had happened.

"Very good choice mother, the soup is excellent" he simply commented.

The red that had flooded Hermione's cheeks only increased as she realised that she was incapable of saying if the foot was Bellatrix's or Narcissa's.

"Thank you, son. The house-elves worked on the diner since early this morning. I do hope everybody will keep some space for the desert. I heard it is truly breath-taking" the blonde smiled.

New stroke. Narcissa's eyes were still on her son. Bellatrix was smiling at her plate in an odd way. No, please, don't let it be her. As she started nervously shifting in her seat, Hermione noticed Snape throwing her a warning look. It had been a mere matter of seconds and nobody had seen it except for her, but she instantly understood that she should better keep a low profile. Therefore, as the next silk-clad foot travelled up her exposed calves, she was prepared. Though her heartbeat increased, she calmly moved another spoon of soup to her mouth. Snape seemed to slightly nod at her right.

As the courses went on, the mysterious foot touched Hermione less and less, and she finally came to forget about it. By the time desert had been brought on the table, the Carrows had already left and an oppressing silence had drawn upon all. From time to time someone would compliment Narcissa on the decorations or the food, but the rest of the time, all you would hear was the rattling of cutlery on the silverware. Even Bellatrix had grown unusually silent. Hermione couldn't help feeling like this bizarre mood was induced by her very presence at this dinner.

As a matter of fact, she had felt more than once as if Rodolphus had been throwing her intrigued looks. She silently prayed that he didn't have his wife's keen senses. After a moment, his deep voice rose from the silence. "Say, Draco, who is that girl of yours?" he asked as though Hermione had been in another room.

All eyes turned to Draco, who's grip tightened a little around his spoon of truffle mousse. He cleared his throat in a clear attempt to seem detached. "That's Hermione Granger, she's one of my Slytherin mates" he explained. The word 'Slytherin' seemed to appease the Lestrange man a little, but Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that the subject wouldn't be dropped that easily. For sure, as soon as he met his wife's smirk, Rodolphus pursued the interrogation.

"I don't know any wizarding family called Granger" he noted, his statement clearly being more of a question. It seemed like Bellatrix was about to intervene, but Hermione thought she saw Narcissa discreetly tugging at her sleeve. The raven-haired woman rolled her eyes but staid silent. Therefore, to everyone's surprise, it was Professor Snape's turn to answer.

"That is because her parents were french, Rodolphus" he tempered.

"Were?" Bellatrix interfered, suddenly interested.

"Indeed. They passed several years ago. It seemed like, sadly, some of their darker magical experiments turned on them. Henceforth, she has been my protegee." The potions master completed, causing Hermione's eyes to bulge. Never had he been so open about being her tutor. Never had he protected her this way. She couldn't thank him enough; he being the most skilled legilimens at the table, no one would doubt his statement.

"I see" Rodolphus nodded, visibly content. "Miss Granger it is, then. I have heard many pleasant things about France before. Home country of Malecrit and Flamel, isn't it?"

"I, err, yes, I believe it is" Hermione stuttered, though she knew it to be true for she had read about it more than once. "But I …" she was about to say that she grew up in Britain, when she realized that it could fatally play against her own tale. Luckily, she was bright enough to change her sentence mid-course. "… I think Britain has nothing to envy France. After all our country is home to the greatest wizard of all time" she added, dreading she was overplaying her part.

The Lestrange and Professor Snape nodded approvingly while Draco and Narcissa threw her a startled look. When it came to Draco, she knew that he was only impressed by the quality of her play – and she couldn't be happier to have proven him he did the right choice by bringing her. But Narcissa … Hermione knew the blonde feared that her words had been sincere. The two of them had spoken about these matters more than once; Narcissa was scared for her as she was for Draco. Though she would never say it out loud, Narcissa never believed it to be good for young wizards to promote the Dark Lord.

After this discussion, the dinner went on for about an hour, everyone's tongue being suddenly untied. Rodolphus didn't hesitate retelling how he and the Carrow caught a group of Muggle teenagers in the woods earlier that evening. They had been camping there for a few days, it seemed, when the Death Eaters found them. While Amycus had his fun with the prettiest of the girls, Rodolphus had taken care of killing the boys and Alecto had tortured the remaining girls. Bellatrix seemed enthralled by her husband's creativity; he had been cutting, hanging, choking them, instead of using the death curse – he even buried one alive. Hermione only felt nauseous.

She couldn't be happier when Snape left for Hogwarts and Narcissa proposed that the younger ones would go to bed. Hermione and Draco slightly bowed to them before they left for their wing of the manor. As soon as they were in secure distance, Draco suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and pulled his fellow Slytherin into his arms. Never, in the five years they knew each other, had Draco hugged her. Never had she seen him hug anyone, to be fair. And yet, there he was, holding onto her for dire life, nearly breaking one of her ribs.

"Draco …" she breathed out "Draco, you're hurting me"

"You are completely mad" the boy said after a moment, finally releasing her. "If Snape hadn't been there … I don't even want to imagine what could have happened if they heard about your blood status"

Hermione saw something vaguely familiar glint in Draco's eyes, a strange flame she had only seen there once or twice before. For a second, all his features had gone soft and welcoming, as if every pore of his being was expressing his attachment to her. And then it finally hit her. It couldn't be, but she couldn't ignore it either. Draco was in love with her. He wasn't only protecting her like a brother. She thought back to the devasted look on his face when she woke up in the hospital wing after touching his rug. Suddenly, she couldn't help feeling disgusted at herself. He probably loved her, and she was … she couldn't even say it in her mind.

"Listen, Draco, I knew it would be dangerous, but I wanted to be there for you. And, see, it worked out fine" she answered, trying to sound casual.

Draco smiled very faintly, and they resumed walking. "Look at you, talking like a Gryffindor all over again" he mocked, the loving glint slowly fading away.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and soon they separated to retrieve their rooms. The brunette's room had been the same since the first time she spent a holiday at the manor, three years ago. Back then, Draco had spent the Christmas holidays moaning about his broken arm and demanding that his father had that hippogriff killed – what Lucius did, in the end. But under these circumstances, Hermione had spent a great deal of time alone, most of it being in the manor's large library. Some days, she still couldn't believe that the Malfoys had books that even Hogwarts couldn't afford.

It was that same winter that Hermione first met Narcissa. While Lucius often came by at Hogwarts to see Quidditch matches, make generous donations or discuss matters with the Headmaster, Narcissa had always kept apart from theses affairs. Hermione could still remember how her heart had stopped when Narcissa had entered the library back then, clad in nothing more than a silk morning gown.

"Dear Lord, I hadn't seen you there darling. You must be Hermione" she had greeted her, addressing her a firm hand and a warm smile. Hermione had instantly fallen in love with her. At first, as Narcissa spent the following days guiding her readings and teaching her about pure-blood history, she had thought she loved her like the mother she had lost. And she kept thinking that way for quite some time. She was so young back then, caring about nothing else than her books and keeping her origins secret. But then came the Yule Ball, in Fourth Year, and Krum's insistent hands on her waist, his exploring fingers and lips. She had hated all of it, though they hadn't gone far.

That same year, over Easter Break, she tried discussing these matters with Narcissa. Though the blonde had been very reluctant at first – her upbringing had taught her that the matters of the body should never be expressed openly – she had ended up telling Hermione the little she could tell. She explained how important it was that she chose a partner that wouldn't tarnish her reputation and who would be loyal to her. She even showed her a contraceptive spell, making her promise that she wouldn't tell anyone that she knew about these sorts of charms. They had giggled about it all afternoon like schoolgirls. And after that, Hermione had started wondering about who she considered trustworthy and appealing enough.

Her search didn't bring her very far though, and soon enough she decided to forget about dating until it would come to her naturally. And it did, though in the least expected way. It was Christmas break, Fifth Year, and Narcissa and she hadn't stopped owling each other since Fourth Year. Their letters had brought them closer and, though she couldn't say why at the moment, she had always kept them secret from Draco. Hermione was exhausted from Draco's ranting at Potter, and Narcissa was deeply worried about the secret plan Lucius was preparing. Even now, Hermione couldn't quite explain how it happened.

They had just exchanged Christmas presents and, beneath the wrapping, Hermione had found that beautiful silk dress she wore in September this year. Narcissa had been so excited about her present that she drove Hermione out of the dining room and into the closest chamber to have her try out the dress that had been specially sewed for her. Neither of them really thought about it when Hermione took off her plain robes and stood there in her underwear, waiting for Narcissa to hand over the dress. But Narcissa didn't. She stood perfectly still; her eyes glued to Hermione's half-naked body. For a couple of seconds, time seemed to stop, the young witch's cheeks burning red under her olive skin.

Then the Gryffindor beneath her skin took over and she closed the distance between and Narcissa and herself. Their lips met almost naturally, as though it wasn't for the first time, and soon the Malfoy matron's hands were acting upon their own will, roaming over Hermione's exposed skin. Hermione herself was soon tugging at Narcissa's intricate corset while they deepened their kiss, their tongues dancing madly. And then their bubble broke and time started running again, for they heard a knock on the door.

"So, Hermione, how's the dress? Father and I are still waiting, and we would like to open our own presents" Draco asked from the other side of the door. The two witches broke apart, both terrorised and considering each other as if they were perfect strangers.

"It fits perfectly, dragon, we'll be there in a minute" Narcissa answered, for the was the quickest to recollect herself. Hermione pulled her old robes back onto her heated frame, still at a loss. She didn't know what to do. Avert Narcissa's gaze? Say something? The blonde didn't leave her to her thoughts for long, for she left the room as soon as Hermione had gotten dressed.

It could have ended there; a brief moment of distraction in an overwise perfectly normal life. But it didn't. That same day, about midnight, when Draco was fast asleep and Lucius away with his fellow Death Eaters, Narcissa joined Hermione in her room. The young witch had just been trying on her now dress, astonished by how well it fit her, though Narcissa never took her measurements. Maybe, that night, Narcissa came to settle things and make sure that nothing like this ever happened again. Or maybe she had planned for things to end up exactly that way. Hermione couldn't tell. But when she saw the young Slytherin in her tightly fitting dress, she just walked over to her, kissed her mad and brought the two of them to bed.

And now, exactly one year later, Hermione was sitting on that same bed, realizing that Draco probably had feelings for her and – worst of all – given his recent comments, he certainly suspected something between her and his mother. She considered taking a bath in the adjacent bathroom, trying to work things out in bubbly warm water, when her door slowly opened. Hermione was still wearing that black silk dress from past year, because she didn't own anything nicer, and there Narcissa was, just like the first time they met, leaning against her doorframe, clad in nothing more than a morning gown.

Hi ! So this is the last chapter I could prepare over the holidays; I hope to write new ones soon. Have a great week-end and don't forget to tell me what you thought!