It's a hot, sunny day; cloudless. We lie on the grass by the lake watching a few sixth year Ravenclaws practicing their mermish with the green-haired folk. Tails slip through and smack the water as they surface to yowl and screech. It's awful.

"He can't really get your brother fired, can he?" I ask worriedly. "Lestrange…"

"Probably not," says Ron. He reaches for another slice of pineapple upside-down cake. "The goblins don't care for wizard politics."

"You're a prat, you know," I say. "Why'd you go and provoke him for?"

"Eh, Seb's all mouth," says Harry. "He likes to make creepy comments, but really he can't be arsed to do anything."

"I'd be more worried about Draco," Cetus adds. He rolls on to his back and yawns. "Can you move the cloud?"

He's trying to dry out from his swim in the lake and the large, fluffy cumulus I've conjured to shade us is in his way.

"Only if you get me ice cream," I barter. We go home the day after tomorrow, and it'll be two months of boring sugarless treats for me. "Why would you be more worried about Draco?"

"Let's just say he always gets what he wants. Oi Kreacher!"

There's a loud sound like a rubber band snapping, and an old, stooping elf appears. "How may I be of service to young master Black?" he squeaks, bowing himself almost in half.

Cetus gestures in my direction. "Ice cream for the lady."

Ginny raises her head. "I want some, too."

Cetus acquiesces. "Yeah, okay. You know what. Get us whatever Florean's offering now," he tells his elf, who bows again and disappears.

"Oh, you're awake," I say to Ginny, as I use my wand to reshape my cumulus so that it covers everyone but Cetus. I'm still a little cross with her, but I think I can get her to come around. "Did you read my manifesto? I put it next to your bed."

"She's put it next to everyone's bed." Ron stops a Quidditch-related conversation with Harry, Seamus, and Gregory to complain. "Girls shouldn't be allowed in our dormitories."

"I think you're overcompensating, Hermione." Ginny shrugs out of her outer-robe and winks at Harry when she catches him looking. "You want to fix a problem that's personal and you're trying to get everyone else involved in it. Honestly, if you don't like who the Ministry picks for you, just tell your parents to reject them."

"This isn't just my problem, Ginny," I snap. Then- "Wait, what? Daphne said she couldn't choose not to have a fiancé."

"Yeah well that's Daphne's family. Yours are muggles, it'll be easy to trick them into not selling you off."

The ice cream arrives, and everyone crowds round the house-elf. Cetus lets me choose first and I pick the salted-caramel panna cotta.

"It was a really big problem for our brother Bill," Ron confides. "He was supposed to be fiancéd to Isolda Selwyn, and then to Elizabeth Burke, but their families rejected him because they didn't think we were good enough." His face turns red and angry. "But joke's on them all; Fleur's much prettier than either of them."

"Fleur?" I inquire, savouring my ice cream with not a little bit of guilt. "Fleur as in Grindylow-Champion Fleur? That Fleur?" That's what the Beauxbatons champion is unfortunately now known as to everyone in Hogwarts. The Grindylow-Champion.

"Fleur as in half-veela Fleur," says Ron smirking so widely you'd think it was him who'd married her.

Cetus shakes his head. "Yeah, but she's still only-"

"Oh look," Parvati warns. "Head-boy coming our way."

He immediately shoos off Kreacher, who disappears with another loud snap, leaving behind tubs of labelled ice cream. Sensing that the party is about to be broken up, we all start to shamelessly shovel ice cream in our mouths.

"I could see your house-elf from the entrance, you fools," Avery Gaunt says without pre-emption, when he reaches us. "That'll be fifteen points from Gryffindor."

Several jaws drop. "That was Cetus' house-elf," Harry protests. "You can't take points from us!"

The Slytherins in our group are laughing. Gregory is clutching his stomach and rolling on the grass.

Gaunt sneers. "Oops, I already did." He looks up. "And who cast that Nebula Formatio?"

Nobody answers.

He shoots me an ungracious leer. "I'll presume it's the doing of our resident know-it-all then," he says. "That'll be fifteen points from Gryffindor. No magic outside of class."

Ginny rolls her eyes. "What do you want, Gaunt? I already told you I'm not going out with you."

Now everyone's laughing.

"Another fifteen points from Gryffindor," he hisses. He sounds like his Head of House. "Granger's been summoned by the Headmaster. You're to come with me."

"Ooo," my friends exclaim. "What did you do, Hermione?"

I pick myself up and dust grass from my robes. "Don't know. See you in the common room." I truly don't know what I'm supposed to have done wrong. Visions of having failed all my OWLs float in my head and make me anxious.

"Did Professor Dumbledore say what he wants me for?" I ask Gaunt as I hurry after him. The last time I spoke to our Headmaster was when he told me I was a very special kind of witch. I still harbour feelings of bitterness.

"Quiet and follow me," he snaps, picking up his pace. We zip through the entrance hall and into the quad. But instead of taking a right to the marble staircase tower where Professor Dumbledore's office is situated, he takes us over the stone bridge. I guess whatever I've done or not done can't be so bad if it hasn't warranted a formal meeting.

When we've crossed into the viaduct, we descend a set of narrow spiral stairs. I follow silently, my mind elsewhere. I'm wondering if Cho has convinced her family to reject potential fiancés until Diggory presents. What will happen if he doesn't?

Our footsteps echo across the stone walls.

"This way," says Avery, and I look up to realise we're deep in the dungeons and all alone.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask in growing alarm. "Dumbledore isn't here is he?"

He slows and laughs malevolently. "Took you long enough to figure out."

I stop. "This isn't funny. I'm going back."

He turns around to face me. Shadows from the lit wall sconces flicker across his face. "You can go back when we're finished."

I take a step back, my heart pounding. "You'll be expelled for this!" Even to my own ears, my voice sounds screechy.

"Expelled? For what, exactly? And besides, I've technically graduated, Granger. NEWTs are being scored right now and I'll be surprised if I get less than ten." He shakes his head scornfully. "And they said you were intelligent."

I swallow my fear. "I don't care. I'm going."

Avery moves towards me, rolling his eyes. I'm just about to turn and run when a door somewhere behind him opens very noisily. Making a split-second decision, I dash towards the sound instead. He jerks back in surprise as I barrel in his direction, and he jumps quickly out of my way.

After a slight bend in the tunnel, I see that the door to one of the unused classrooms is wide open and there is a woman leaning against it. Her black hair is strewn with white, and she has the type of bone structure that might have rendered her somewhat pretty in her youth if her nose had not been extremely off-centre and her eyes not too close together.

Her arms unfold at the sight of me running to her at breakneck speed. "In here," she directs in a soft voice, and I run straight in, one hand pushing against the wooden door for support as I make the abrupt turn.

Inside the room sit several wizards. It looks like they're having a meeting.

I come to a halt. "Oh, I'm sorry," I stammer.

They look up. "Don't dally, Avery," snaps an old man with a grisly beard, as he looks past me. "Merope, shut the door. The wind is killing my knees."

I swivel around, gaping. Gaunt brushes by to sit next to the old man. The door shuts.

"So, this is the problematic Omega," someone comments. "Doesn't look like much. Why were you running, girl?"

"Attractive enough," says a blonde wizard. He looks vaguely familiar.

"It's not about the looks, Thaddeus," sneers the old man. He makes eye contact with me. "I hear you're magical enough for a mudblood. Show us."

My initial fright has worn off and I'm insulted by the slur. "Who are you?" I demand sharply.

Another wizard leans forward. "I see what they mean." His eyes glitter. "She behaves nothing like a typical Omega. Her dirty blood must be altering the characteristics."

His frank bigotry is astounding.

I take another tack. Attempt to look simpering and stupid. "Fine. How do you want me to show you my abilities?"

The old man grins crookedly. His lips stretch and crack. "That's more like it." He gestures. "Show us a spell. You're in your OWL year, correct? For a mudblood, I'll be impressed with any spell you can do that a second-year can."

That's exactly what I wanted to hear. Not that part about the mudbloods, but the permission I have just been given to pull my wand from my robes.

I do so.

"Okay. Ready?" I ask. I think my smile has become a little deformed because Gaunt narrows his eyes. His Head-boy badge glints as he shifts in his chair. "I must warn you all-" he begins, but unfortunately for them all, he doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence.

I'm already waving my wand smoothly. "Intruders in room D-fifteen," I quickly dictate, and the translucent body of an otter emerges headfirst from my wand. After gambolling nonchalantly around my audience's stunned heads, it runs right through the ceiling.

Gaunt curses. He leaps up.

I move to let him pass. "Messenger Patronus, silently cast," I explain, smirking widely as the door slams shut behind me. "I don't think you'll find that's even tested in the NEWTs. Oh, and in case you're wondering, that message went out to Professor Dumbledore."

Another half a second of continued stunned silence precedes low, gravelly laughing. The laughing wizard stands. He's bald with a rust-coloured goatee. "I can recognise something rare and unique when I see one," he says. "I'll be putting in my bid."

"Er, I'm not marrying you, if that's what you mean," I cut him down quickly. I'm quite revolted. "I'm not marrying any of you."

The door bangs open, startling the meek woman Merope who was standing just beside it, and our Headmaster enters with drawn wand. He's followed by Professors McGonagall and Flitwick.

"You say that, but it's been ages since I've found anything rare and unique in your shop," one of the blonde wizards, unbothered by the sudden appearance of the Headmaster, is complaining to the bald one.

The entering professors blink with surprise and lower their wands. Dumbledore casts a penetrating eye over the scene. "To what pleasure do I owe the visit of the Lords Burke, Nott, Gaunt, and Rowle to Hogwarts?" he asks.

The blonde wizard stands. No wonder he looked familiar. He must be Theodore's father. "This lovely young lady was just showing us around," he lies blatantly with a thin-lipped smile.

"That's not what her patronus indicated," Dumbledore replies. He looks angry. "Gentlemen, I am disappointed in you. You are well aware that it is not the correct procedure to be holding an audience with Ms. Granger without her family present."

Some of the wizards shift awkwardly. Professor McGonagall puts an arm across my shoulders. "Come on, Granger," she says, and after shooting the men a disgusted glare, steers me out.

"Shame on you all," I hear our Headmaster admonishing, before the door closes.

Draco Malfoy

The name, printed in slightly slanted gold lettering, shines dully in the light as I flip the thick calling card over and over in my fingers.

I'm thinking about what Ginny said, about SLOW being personal.

It's not true at all; she's wrong. I do want to help all Omegas. This isn't just about me. But no one else appears to genuinely care. No one else thinks it's a worthy cause, not even the other Omegas, Cho and Daphne. The only person who seemed remotely interested was-

Draco Malfoy

I flip the card again. There's a London address on the other side. It's in the Square Mile; I can walk there in an hour.

Feeling uncharacteristically impulsive, I jump up to dress and go. It's a warm day but I wear a nice navy Chanel tweed skirt suit. I'm counting on it to help me look a little older than my age. I want him to take me seriously.

The walk is a lovely one that takes me past St. James Park, through Victoria Embankment, and finally to Cannon Street. Occasionally, confused tourists holding paper maps ask me for directions, and I pause to buy a drink at some point.

By the time I get to St. Swithin's Lane, where the Malfoys' offices are located, it's been well over an hour since I left home, and I'm beginning to feel uncomfortable in my outfit. What's worse, the building doesn't seem to exist. I walk around in frustrated circles while sipping my drink, before finally pulling out the business card to make sure I've got the correct address.

The moment my fingers touch the card, a silvery-grey building appears, squeezing itself between two others right in front of my astonished eyes. I look nervously around before stuffing the empty bottle in my bag and darting through the ornate gold revolving doors.

As soon as I enter, I realise my first mistake. In the weeks I've spent living in the muggle world, I've quite forgotten the wizarding one. Everyone in the busy lobby is dressed in floor-skimming robes.

It's too late to go back and change. And besides, I'm just here to make an appointment. I'll be back out in minutes. It'll be okay.

Trying to ignore the strange stares thrown in my direction, I walk hurriedly to one of the receptionists.

"May I help you?" the reception-witch, who has her hair pulled into a tight bun, asks sweetly. "Are you lost?"

"No." I tip-toe slightly to rest my arms on the high counter. "I'd like to schedule a meeting with Mr. Draco Malfoy, actually."

"Ah," she says. "I can't do that. You'll have to speak directly with one of his personal assistants. Do you have a business card I can pass to them?"

"No, but I can give you my name…" I write it down for her on a strip of parchment. "I'm studying at Hogwarts, and he asked me to contact him when we met at the career fair…"

"Sure," says the well-trained reception-witch amiably, as if students dressed in muggle clothing came regularly to request a meeting with one of the company owners. "Please write your address down so the owl will know where to reach you… Great, thanks…" She taps the parchment with her wand, and it catches fire before disappearing completely. "One of the secretaries should reach out to you soon to-"

"Is that a modified Transedio charm?" I interrupt. I watch the space where the parchment disappeared, fascinated. Either she's employing a modified Transedio or the parchment have all been inscribed with runes in invisible ink. I imagine they would use the Salamander and Raido runes at least, maybe the Demiguise one also. I crane my head to look at her roll of parchment. "Is that regular parchment?"

She stares for a second then shakes her head. "I don't know, I just do the charm and off it goes. Hold on a second, please." A tongue of flame had appeared in a little tray in front of her. It burns out quickly, and the reception-witch picks up the parchment left behind.

"Oh, you're in luck! Mr. Malfoy can meet you right away. This almost never happens. You must have made quite an impression." She stands, smiling. "I'm to take you straight up. If you'll follow me…"

"Er, now? I didn't actually prepare any materials," I say. I suck indecisively on my lower lip. "I just wanted to set up a meeting, I didn't think-"

She nods briskly. "Say no more. Witches like you shouldn't meet non-relations unaccompanied. It's improper. I quite understand." She unrolls fresh parchment. "I'll let them know you prefer to communicate via-"

I fold my arms over my chest and purse my lips in irritation. "You know what, I will take the meeting." Her comment makes my blood boil. Witches like me? I am perfectly capable of handling myself. I am top in my year. I tricked a room full of creepy old Lords. I can most definitely take a meeting alone.

"If you're sure," she says, and leads me into a private elevator which we ride to the thirtieth floor. It's a double-volume floor; when the doors open, I'm met with an outstanding and unobstructed view of the river and the skyline.

Another witch emerges from a door on the right and the reception-witch disappears back into the elevator. "Ms. Granger?" says the new witch. "Mr. Malfoy is expecting you."

I follow her to a set of enormous mahogany wood doors. She raps sharply on them and they open. Beyond lies what looks like a cross between a portrait gallery and a personal library. Along the right side, the structural glass windows offer the same view of the flat London skyline. On the left, on the wall, are hung stately portraits of venerable-looking wizards all of whom are blonde with grey eyes.

A metal spiral staircase leads up to a loft and what I can see of it from below is mostly built-in shelves that are filled to the ceiling with books. At the end of the long room, at a large table, sits the dark-suited figure of Draco Malfoy. Behind him is a cartographic wall-map.

The witch enters ahead of me. "Ms. Granger to see you, Sir. Would you like me to stay and take notes?"

He looks up. "There's no need. Come, Ms. Granger."