I stare at her for a long second then laugh nervously. "Daphne, I don't have a fiancé."

"Oh!" She looks taken aback. "Don't worry," she soothes. "You'll get one. It's probably just taking them awhile to negotiate."

"What?"

"Yeah. It wasn't immediate for me either. I was rejected by two on account of my possibly having a blood malediction."

"What? -Oh!" I curse and jerk my quill back. It's made a huge ink blot on the parchment. Professor Vector looks up from her magazine to glare at me, and I whisper a hasty apology.

"I know! There's really only a one in five chance that I could have inherited it, but I guess even that's too risky for some people." She rolls her eyes.

"I'm sorry to hear about the blood malediction," I tell her sincerely. I've never met anyone with a hereditary curse; it's that rare. We haven't even covered it in any of our subjects. I'm actually interested to learn more about hers.

But this isn't the time.

I pull out my wand and try and carefully siphon off the ink. "Why would you have a fiancé though?" I ask, "Aren't you er, much too young? You're still in school! Can't you not have one?"

She frowns like that's never crossed her mind. "I don't think so," she says uncertainly. "And anyway, I don't mind getting married. But I do wish I could choose my husband. It's really unfair that Alphas get to choose, and we don't, don't you think?"

I sit up, abandoning my task completely.

"Obviously Rowle's okay. Our families go way back. And I don't actually want to take the NEWTs so it works out. But that's after I got passed over by Lestrange and Malfoy. It was a real cock up, honestly, and I was depressed for months. My parents hired a famous cursebreaker from Indonesia, but he told them it would…"

She's still talking but I'm no longer listening. There's a ringing in my ears.

I stand up. Professor Vector calls my name, but I'm afraid if I open my mouth to respond, I'll be sick. I stumble out of the classroom.

Professor McGonagall transfigures a sheaf of parchment into a napkin for me to blow my nose into. I ignore it, letting the snot run down my face.

"Is this why you never called me in for Careers Advice?" I wail, shaking with rage and betrayal. "Is this why you never call on me to answer questions in class anymore?"

Professor McGonagall at least has the decency to look contrite. "Miss Granger, I am sorry you feel that you have been estranged from your peers due to your status, but the one has nothing to do with the other. I don't call on you in class because I want to give the other students a chance. You have already proven yourself to be very knowledgeable."

I preen a little at the praise, and then break down again, crying morosely. "What's the point of being knowledgeable if I don't get to use that knowledge?"

She sighs. "Miss Greengrass's case is unique; her family's curse sometimes results in an extremely short life-span for females. Almost everyone else will go on to take the NEWTs."

"So that's why she's marrying early," I say. "So that she can start popping out children like a broodmare before she dies? That is disgusting. Professor don't you see how vile of a practice this is?"

"It is certainly not a just one," she agrees. "But this has been the practice between pure-blood families for centuries. It's written into the law."

"But I'm not one of them!"

I am genuinely glad, for the first time, to be a muggle-born. I can use this.

"I highly doubt an exception will be made for you, Miss Granger. The best thing for you to do now is to wait until a fiancé has been selected for you and then negotiate an agreement with him."

"Thanks for the advice, Professor," I say, standing. I have absolutely no intention of following any of it; I have a much better plan. I take the napkin and wipe my face, hoisting my bag further up my shoulder.

"Before you go…" Professor McGonagall picks up a quill and looks at me over her glasses. "There is a Career Fair planned for the twentieth. I don't want you to get your hopes up, but I'll leave it to you to decide if you want to attend."

I shake a can in the direction of a trio of fifth-year boys. "Join SLOW today. A small donation will go a long way towards legal fees-"

Cetus stops. "What's SLOW?"

I smile broadly at him. "I'm glad you ask, Cetus. SLOW stands for the Society for the Liberation of Omega Witches, an oppressed and downtrodden group…"

I'm drowned out by heckling from several Gryffindors exiting the fair; different-coloured company brochures and branded promotional merchandise in arms. I pause to throw a dirty look at the offenders.

"What are you liberating them from?" asks the boy next to Cetus. Terence Higgs, I think he's called. I can't decide if he's being curious or sarcastic. He does look genuinely curious.

"From the highly discriminative and patriarchal practices-"

"Oh, do let's go," Cetus implores. "I'm late to meet my mother, you know how she is…"

I shake my can at them and move to block them from entering the marquee. "Stop interrupting me!"

"Just give her the donation, quick," advises the third boy, another Slytherin, Theodore.

Cetus pokes his tongue in his own cheek and huffs an exasperated sigh. He digs around in his inner robe. I hear the heavy clanking of coins. "Harry warned me to avoid you," he complained. "I thought it was another one of his weird pranks…"

"You too." I thrust the can out menacingly at the other two boys. "We need as many supporters as we can get."

They groan and grumble and begin pulling out sickles and galleons.

"Go SLOW!" the can squeaks merrily as it eats each coin.

I thrust various paraphernalia into their arms. There are badges, hats, and scarves. "Brilliant. We'll meet every Thursday evening in-"

"Oh, no…" Cetus moans, looking beyond me. "It's my aunt, oh I hate seeing her, she always compares me to my cousin, it's awful, hide me- Oh Hello, Aunt Narcissa!" His voice takes on a chipper tone and he's plastered a smile to his face.

I turn around, mildly interested. A tall, thin blonde woman in grey floor-sweeping robes is approaching us.

"My dear Cetus." She has a strangely deep voice for someone with such a frail looking physique. She angles her face towards me for a second, frowning a little, and then turns her attention back to the three boys. "I was just stepping out for a breather. It's a bit of a zoo in there. Ah. Hello Theodore, Terence."

The other boys greet her, and I learn that she is Lady Malfoy. The name is familiar.

She enquires after their exams. "Your mother has confided in me her anxieties for what your OWL results might be," she says, turning her face to Cetus. "I presume Quidditch has been taking up all your time? I advised her not to worry. After all Draco played Seeker and still managed to score seven Outstandings. Although of course not everyone can be as gifted…"

Cetus is clearly struggling and failing to keep his annoyance in check. "Yes, well," he replies pithily, "I think that was also the year Slytherin came in last for the Quidditch cup for the first time in fifteen years."

His friends look highly entertained, but his aunt only shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly. "One must prioritise. Quidditch or academic results? I think Draco made the right choices… Graduates of high calibre have been increasingly difficult to find and I fear the current and next batches just don't look so promising…"

I clear my throat.

They all turn in surprise, apparently having forgotten me.

"Last year's cohort was the best-performing in over fifty years," I say, crossing my arms. "They scored an average of three Outstandings each. And this year's cohort is expected to do better."

I'm in this year's cohort, so we really ought to. Unless of course Ron fell asleep in the exams like he did in the mock tests.

Narcissa Malfoy raises an eyebrow. "I don't think we've been introduced," she says pleasantly.

I brush off my schoolmates' attempts at a formal introduction. "I'm Hermione Granger," I say.

In fact, now that I've got their attention…

"Everyone from last year's cohort progressed to their sixth year," I continue, voice growing in pitch. "From this year's cohort however, at least one female student will be forced to drop out, due to a barbaric and outdated-"

Narcissa Malfoy claps her hands delightedly. "Ah, I should have realised! You're the new girl everyone's been talking about. I wondered of course why you were a stranger to me. The families are all so very close… I thought you were perhaps an exchange student. But of course, this makes much more sense…"

"Err," I say, not expecting this reaction at all.

The boys take advantage of her distraction to make quick farewells and depart.

Narcissa Malfoy slots her arm in mine and begins pulling me into the immense marquee. "Come. Have you visited our booths?" She laughs and I am again startled by the deepness of her voice. "Where is he- really, we have too many booths, or too many companies rather. But I do like volunteering for the Career Fair. Gives one something to do, you know…"

I bite my lip worriedly. I don't want to go look at her booths. I want to recruit more members to join SLOW. Although Narcissa Malfoy is a female pureblood- I suppose they're something like socialites, when they're not being unfortunate broodmares. If I can get her to join my cause, it will really gather traction.

We press onwards through the throng of students and visiting adults. Narcissa Malfoy is still talking, but her voice is lost in the general noise. Suddenly she stops; there's a couple blocking our way.

The woman is tall with long, dark and wavy hair, and a haughty expression on her face, and she's accompanied by a man almost her carbon copy, with shoulder-length hair and heavy-lidded eyes that recall squid-ink and petroleum. He frowns and sniffs the air subtly. I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't seen his nostrils flaring out slightly. Immediately, his eyes lock on to me. He smiles.

I'm taken aback, but I smile as politely as I know how.

The woman with him smiles also. "Cissa," she greets hoarsely.

At least I think that's what she said. It's very hard to hear in this crowd; on top of the chattering students, many companies' presenters have given their voices a loud and magical boost in their attempt to draw attention to themselves.

"Bella," says Lady Malfoy.

"Is… girl then? My, the Malfoys … desperate if … a bride … mudbloods…" The other witch lifts her chin as she talks. What little I can hear of her speech drips with disdain.

I try and pull my arm out of my captor's grip. I have no interest in listening to pureblood gossip. But Narcissa Malfoy refuses to let me go. The crowd thins a little around us and I manage to hear her response.

"You're a hypocrite, Bella. What I'd like to know is what you're doing creeping around Hogwarts and dragging Sebastien with you. You never come to the Career Fairs. That reeks of desperation if nothing else."

The man- Sebastien, I assume, who until that point had been ignoring the two women and just been staring almost unblinkingly at me finally speaks:

"I would like to be introduced," he says softly. He leans in. His nostrils flare again. Somehow it doesn't sound like a request.

I take a hasty and somewhat imbalanced step backwards and someone I don't see puts their hand on my back to steady me.

A new voice, deep and velvety smooth, speaks up right behind me: "Then that makes two of us, and I rather think I get first rights. Hello Mother, Aunt Bella, Seb…"

I feel Narcissa Malfoy heave a silent sigh of relief. Sebastien looks chagrined. "Draco," he says curtly.