A/N: Happy Christmas!

Anti-Litigation Charm: I do not own.

Please review! ;)

The upcoming Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch match was, as usual, shaping up to be extremely competitive. The Sunday of the match finally arrived, and the whole school poured out to watch. The game might have been slightly more enjoyable if Zacharias Smith had not been giving antagonizing commentary, but there was nothing to be done for it now. He had finally finished picking on Ron and Ginny, suggesting that the two were only on the team because they were good friends with the captain, and begun criticizing the Gryffindor Beaters.

"Of course, Coote doesn't really have the usual build of a beater," Zacharias said loftily, as Coote sent a Bludger flying straight into Urquhart. "They've generally got a bit more muscle, but I suppose if he continues to flail around on his broomstick long enough, he might connect with something…"

"Are Beaters allowed to shoot Bludgers at the commentators?" Hermione muttered at Minerva, as Harry yelled for his Beater to knock one into Zacharias.

"Generally not," was the tight-lipped reply, and Hermione knew that Zacharias would not be commentating after this. Hermione glanced up at the seat behind her where Severus was watching the game, his expression inscrutable.

"And of course, he brought back Bell on the team," Zacharias droned, now drawing their attention to the Gryffindor Chaser. "Potter likes to play old faces. Though he may also want to get his glasses checked, because not only does he have the smallest beater in the school, but he's put Selenius Black on the team, and he's not much, is he, he's tiny…"

Selenius stuck his tongue out at Zacharias as he sped past the podium, Quaffle tucked under his arm.

"…and I—hold on a moment, is that a Firebolt?" Hermione saw Zacharias lean forward in his seat for a closer look. "Yes, it is! It seems Potter and Black have matching brooms. I have no idea why I'm surprised, given the close family ties, but it's likely that Potter put Black on the team for the broomstick, rather than the skill… didn't want to be stuck with another old log like the Weasleys', I suppose…"

Hermione saw Ron's face turn red, and Ginny looked coolly murderous. Draco Malfoy was sniggering on his broomstick, thoroughly entertained. Several of the Slytherin spectators cheered at this, and the Gryffindors booed, loudly.

"Don't listen to him," Harry could be heard yelling, as Slytherin Chaser Vaisey sped past him. "He's just jealous that our team's got more talent put in it together than the rest of the other teams have in twigs on their broomsticks… c'mon, Ron—pull yourself together!"

And Ron, who had been distracted by Smith's rambling, managed to do just that, darting forward to snap the ball out of the air just before Slytherin could score another goal. The sea of red and gold stood up and roared in raucous approval, drowning out Zacharias's following commentary. Ron threw the ball to Katie, and Selenius dive-rolled between her and the Slytherin Chaser trying to knock the ball out of her hands, forcing the latter to pull away quickly to avoid a collision. Hermione nearly jumped, as she realized that Selenius was using himself as a shield.

"They're going to kill him," she moaned.

"I hope not," was Minerva's prim reply.

Katie sped past the podium, passed it to Ginny, and a moment later—

"Gryffindor scores again," Zacharias said, sounding bored. "And Slytherin takes the Quaffle—oh God, what is that first-year doing now?"

Selenius had ambushed the bigger, bulkier Slytherin from below, swooping straight up and snatching the Quaffle right from under his arm before righting his broom. He immediately snapped the ball to Ginny, who took it away and shot off in the direction of Slytherin's goalposts.

"And once again, Gryffindor has proven itself to be the biggest show-offs that ever lived," Zacharias drawled, as Selenius and Katie both moved to cover Ginny's back. A pause, and then he boomed, "And Weasley weasels another goal for Gryffindor!"

Hermione frowned as the Gryffindor players hung back, waiting for the Slytherin Keeper to make a pass. It might have looked like showing off, but it was clear to her that the three Chasers were working as a team. Selenius was tiny compared to the rest of the players and had superior broom, which was probably why he was doing the ball-stealing—the opposition had a hard time tangling with someone who wasn't their own size. But Ginny and Katie were bigger, stronger, and made better shots which was why he didn't seem to be trying to score all that much.

But a moment later, Katie passed the ball to Selenius before a Slytherin Chaser could relieve her of it, and Selenius made to pass it over to Ginny again, when one of the Slytherin Chasers deliberately rammed into his broom, causing him to drop the Quaffle in order to hold on. The red and gold-clad stands shouted in a sea of disapproval.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, calling foul, but it didn't help the fact that Selenius looked rather dazed. Ginny darted forward to say something to him, and he seemed to collect himself as Katie took the Gryffindor penalty.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we keep the firsties off the field—oh!" Harry was racing across the length of the field, and Draco was following him close behind, bent low over their brooms as they shot after a faint glint of gold hovering near Urquhart's ear. "It seems both Seekers have spotted the Snitch! They're racing—Potter's in the lead, and—" A moment later, there was an almighty roar of approval from the Gryffindor stands. "Gryffindor's caught the Snitch—" The sudden cheer from the scarlet-covered stands was suddenly interspersed with cries of surprise, as Draco failed to come to a stop in time, and the two collided. It was clearly unintentional, and the two Seekers struggled to right themselves. "Ouch! That's going to hurt in the morning. Gryffindor wins, but not without—aaauuugh!"

Ginny and Ron, it seemed, had both finally had enough. The game was over, and both had left their places—but instead of going to Harry, who had disentangled himself from Malfoy, and was holding the Snitch up for all to see while his teammates hugged him, the two of them had both collided into the Hufflepuff. There was a deafening crash, amplified by the microphone. A moment of echoed silence followed, and then the two of them appeared from the wreckage.

"I'll have you know that this 'old log' is a Cleansweep Eleven," Ron said in a self-satisfied voice, and with the microphone on, the entire stadium could hear him. "You're still on, what, a Comet Two-Sixty?"

The stands roared with laughter, applauding and shrieking with delight. The rest of the Gryffindor team landed beside the two Weasleys, hugging and congratulating each other. Ginny was attempting to placate a thoroughly irate Minerva with an insincerely muttered, "Forgot to brake, Professor, sorry," that was drowned out by the raucous crowd. Harry grabbed Ginny and pulled her into a hug, swinging her around; they were wearing identical expressions of hilarious elation.

"That was brilliant!" Selenius roared, struggling to be heard over the crowd. He wasn't the only Chaser giving the Gryffindor Keeper a slap on the back. "Wish I'd done that myself!"

"Wouldn't have done any good, you're too small!" Ron grinned.

Hermione was clapping and cheering along with the rest, even after the teams finally left the field. She glanced over at Severus, who was looking torn between disappointment and pride, and how much to show of either.

She beamed at him, and then left the stands with everyone else.

"That was an exciting game," Hermione said breathlessly, as she and Severus made their way back to their quarters. "I thought I was going to have a heart attack—and I still have to kill Sirius for giving him that broom. Although I might change my mind about that by the time Christmas rolls around."

"I can't decide whether to be offended that Slytherin lost," Severus said, shutting the door to their rooms and locking it. "Or impressed that Selenius played fairly well for his first game."

"He played well. They all did. It was clear they had a strategy—"

"Yes, yes, go on and laud Potter's excellent captaincy," Severus drawled, kicking off his boots and sinking into an armchair. "Gryffindor will no doubt be celebrating tonight."

"I'm proud of him," Hermione said, bending over to kiss his cheek. "I may not like Quidditch, but I'm glad that Selenius enjoys playing, and that he was good enough to get on the team."

Severus pulled her into his lap, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he kissed her thoroughly.

~o~O~o~

Hermione found herself pondering over whether the Quidditch match could have soured relations between Selenius and the Slytherins, and at first, she thought this might be the case. But after three days of wandering down to the dungeons with a chess set tucked under one arm and his wand in the other after his last class, it seemed Selenius still got his way out of sheer determination. They were back in the library on Wednesday as usual, though it took three irate sixth-year Slytherins and a stubborn first-year Gryffindor a trip to the infirmary to make this happen.

It became clear to Hermione that some of the Gryffindors had been reserved about Selenius's place on the team, not in the least because many of them had tried out themselves, but because compared to the rest of them—though not the other first-years—he seemed so very small, hardly the build for a Chaser. In addition to the fact that he didn't seem like a sport-playing type, pale and lanky and book-oriented as he was, this had kept most of the Gryffindors at arms-length. Now, however, the whole team was being given near-celebrity status within Gryffindor house, and Selenius was looked on with a more favor and acceptance than before.

He was a bit of an oddball, and difficult for other students to understand, but he seemed to weave through moments of blunt stubbornness and imperceptible manipulation depending on which road would give him what he wanted. But he'd clearly earned his place on the team, and that was all his housemates cared about now.

Christmas was approaching fast, and the opportunity this would bring was not lost on Hermione. She checked the date that the Hogwarts Express would be arriving at Hogsmeade Station to pick up the students returning home for the hols, and had offered to be the supervising teacher to ride back with them. That would give her plenty of time to search every inch of the train for the Horcrux that she was certain—that she hoped—was on board.

Hagrid had already single-handedly dragged the twelve enormous trees that would be decorated and placed in the Great Hall, and the rest of the teachers took it upon themselves to deck the castle for holiday spirit. He had also moved Charlie into his house, saying it was too cold for the dragon to stay outside, which meant that many of the students often saw snorts of fire and smoke in the windows of his hut as they walked to Herbology. Harry and Ron's visits down to Hagrid's hut were understandably cut short during the winter. Mistletoe hung along the corridors in abundance, and more than once, Hermione glimpsed Harry ducking into a secret passageway or a deserted corridor to avoid the many gaggle of girls who were hoping to trap him. This went on for several days, until Ginny finally dragged Harry under one of the hangings and kissed him in plain view for all to see.

Ron thought that this was simply hilarious. He had been in a spectacularly good mood since they had trounced Slytherin in the first Quidditch match of the season, and Hermione thought that this was rather fortuitous. In another time, under different circumstances, she suspected Ron would have been very sour to see his best friend dating his sister, and to have that same best friend still receiving plenty—albeit unwanted—attention from other girls. But he remained in good spirits, though he never lost an opportunity to poke fun at Harry for having to take mistletoe-free detours to class.

Despite the fact that everyone was clearly looking forward to the holidays, Hermione still kept her classes working hard until the last minute. The Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years, who had spent the first semester learning about the history and definition of the Dark Arts, were now being shown how to recognize it. Hermione brought in one of the screaming books from the Restricted Section, and allowed them all to have a try at reading it. Each and every time, it wailed, screamed, and struggled, making it otherwise impossible for anyone to actually open it and read—and Hermione explained to the rather startled and wincing students that this was the most benign thing a cursed book was likely to do to them.

Hermione saw Selenius give the book a calculating look just before they were dismissed.

The sixth-years had a much more exciting final class. Hermione had already ironed out the details and permission for this, but she challenged the entire class to a duel against her—two-dozen to one. What she had needed permission for, though, was the fact that she planned to duel them with the Imperius Curse in her arsenal. It had been allowed in fourth-year, and Hermione saw no reason why the sixth-years shouldn't be exposed to it in a realistic situation. The only difference was that Hogwarts had been under less scrutiny by the Ministry two years ago. But she herself had learned to throw it off in the midst of dueling, and that training had saved her life more than once, and so she insisted.

The only caveat was that one of the Aurors had insisted on being present. Hermione gladly chose Proudfoot, and he carved himself an unobtrusive corner of the room to observe.

The students had been very surprised when Hermione told them this. Harry and Ron had looked at her as though she had lost her mind. The few Slytherins muttered in disbelief, and the Ravenclaws were exchanging wary but curious glances. But she didn't have the patience for the wibbling protest she got from Ernie Macmillian, when he pointed out that it was illegal.

"As if Death Eaters will care if it's illegal or not," Hermione had snapped at him.

"But—" Macmillian began, but was interrupted, not by Hermione, but by Proudfoot.

"Professor Granger is correct," he said, scratching Mipsy behind the ears. "I hate to say it, but if more people knew how to protect themselves against the Imperius, the country would be safer for it. It's distasteful, I agree, but it will be extremely valuable when you finally leave school. Especially," he added, with a nod at Harry, "if you're planning on becoming Aurors yourselves."

That had made them all stand up a bit straighter in their seats. Hermione ordered them all to stand, spelled the desks away into a corner, and then began without warning. Hermione felt Ernie's surprise when she hit him with the Imperius, and the other students were too shocked to do anything about it, unsure if they were supposed to begin or if this was just a demonstration.

"That's how easily you will lose, if you let your guard down and don't have any resistance," Hermione said coolly, releasing Ernie, whose face had turned very pale. "And if you're just going to stand there gaping at me…"

Malfoy struck first, quickest on the uptake, and then the others joined in. It was desperate and dirty, but the duel did not sink to the same level of ruthlessness Hermione remembered when she herself had been a student. She had trained this class well, though—they were taking aim with their spells, and not firing them off in random stunts. Despite the fact that she was outnumbered, Hermione still had a clear advantage over them all, ducking and dodging and giving back as good as she got. They struggled and pushed, and she merrily danced out of the way of their efforts with trained, graceful ease.

"Don't waste your time constantly throwing up Shield Charms!" she crowed, as a Stunner flew over her head, courtesy of Terry Boot. "You don't know whether I'm going to cast an Unforgivable or not—" she dodged again, flicking her wand upwards at Ron, who let out a yelp as he was levitated into the air by his ankle "—and you waste your own opportunity to retaliate! Dodge and fire back, don't allow yourself to fall on the defensive or you'll never get anything done!"

She caught Malfoy with the Imperius, causing him to turn his wand on Theodore Nott, ordering him to fire off a Bat-Bogey Hex before the Slytherin was able to pull up his own resistance. Hermione was actually surprised for a moment at how quickly he had managed to throw her off, but rallied at once.

"Good, Malfoy! Excellent. Fifteen points to Slytherin!" She whipped her wand at him again, even as she ducked the spells crisscrossing around her. "Stupefy!"

By the time class ended, the students looked ready to collapse on the floor with exhaustion. They had never had such an intense workout, and they looked both apprehensive and eager when Hermione informed them that they would be doing this once a week after winter break. Malfoy staggered to his feet, looking oddly proud of himself, as though he thought he had finally done something that impressed even himself. Terry Boot looked as though he might never walk again. Ernie Macmillian had fared no better, though he had enough energy to help the Ravenclaw up. Harry and Ron looked as though they might faint with exhaustion, and the other students seemed to have finally realized just how underpowered they really were.

"I didn't think dueling was that hard," Seamus said, out of breath, as he collected his things.

Neville, red-faced and sweating, didn't seem to have enough left in him to speak.

Proudfoot applauded as the students left the room. Hermione didn't sit down until the door had closed, but then she collapsed in her chair, happy but tired, and pulling the escaped locks of hair out of her face.

"I still don't know why you wouldn't want to become an Auror, skills like those," Proudfoot said, taking a seat. "You would pass with flying colors."

"Aurors aren't the only ones who need these skills," Hermione said, summoning a goblet and tapping it with her wand. Water filled it to the brim, and she took a long gulp. "Someone needs to teach them how to protect themselves, because the Department of Magical Law Enforcement can't be everywhere at once." Mipsy padded up to her, and Hermione ran her hand over the kneazle's head. "Hello, beautiful."

Proudfoot chuckled. "It's a good thing she still likes you. That was a rather impressive display of power."

"Thank you," Hermione said. Mipsy head-butted her hand, and she scratched the sweet spot behind the plumed ears.

"I'm glad I got to watch," Padfoot said. "I must admit, though—you're surprisingly good at casting Unforgivables."

Hermione laughed ruefully. "You are observant!" Her expression grew somber. "I fought against You-Know-Who the first time. Both sides used Dark magic to try and bring down the other." She grimaced. "Everyone was equally… ruthless."

"That's true," Proudfoot noted. He paused. "I've been thinking about why you Obliviated Bellatrix Lestrange. With her safe in Azkaban, I would have thought it unnecessary, but you seemed to know she would escape."

"I didn't know," Hermione said quietly. "But I do know that You-Know-Who—" she was careful to resist calling him the Dark Lord "—has broken his followers out of Azkaban before. Bellatrix Lestrange is his most fanatical Death Eater, and he has plenty of uses for her. It seemed unlikely that she would remain for long."

"And why is it important to you that You-Know-Who not know you helped bring her in?"

"Because I'm just supposed to be a simple schoolteacher," Hermione lied. Mipsy looked up at her, eyes narrowed, and Hermione saw Proudfoot give her a look that clearly said he wasn't buying it. "I honestly can't tell you, Proudfoot. I'm sorry."

"Is part of the reason because you're Hermione Granger?" the Auror asked lightly.

Hermione froze. Her eyes narrowed at him, and glared. "What gave it away?"

"Plenty of things. The similar surname and uncanny likeness made me suspect that something was up, and when I looked at the missing persons report for Hermione Granger, I found an interesting notation that she had applied for—and kept—a Time-Turner in her third-year." Proudfoot stroked his beard. "I searched through the Hogwarts library records, and found a picture of you when you started teaching in 1981—you were only a few years older than you were when you disappeared, which meant that when I compared the photographs, it became rather clear that it was you."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "And what, exactly, are you going to do with this information?"

"Nothing," Proudfoot said. "I searched for any other records the Ministry had for you, and aside from exam scores and a marriage license, you're practically obsolete. I brought it to the Minister, who informed me that he already knew. The only reason I bring it up now is because I still have one final question that's been bothering me for the past several months." He leaned forward in his seat. "How did you get Sirius Black out of Azkaban?"

"Minister Fudge was corrupt, and I took advantage of that to free a man who didn't deserve to be imprisoned," Hermione said quietly.

"I thought that might have been it. You see," Proudfoot said, looking rather relieved, "I was worried you had found a weakness in Azkaban itself, and exploited it—for good reason, I suppose, but that the weakness might still be there."

"Who says it isn't?" Hermione pointed out. "Scrimgeour may be doing all he can to try and hold the Ministry together, but that doesn't mean that lower on the chain, someone's still pulling strings for You-Know-Who."

Proudfoot frowned, and Hermione knew he was considering her words carefully.

"Look into it," Hermione suggested, getting to her feet. "See if you can find anything. In the meantime," she said, gesturing at the door, where her fourth-year students were now peering into the classroom, "I have class."

~o~O~o~

Hermione stepped onto the train as soon as it arrived, before the other students had made their way down from the castle. The House Elves could be seen popping in and out of existence with the students' luggage in hand, and Hermione walked through the train, trying to figure out where someone would hide something on it permanently. She started in the conductor's compartment, which yielded nothing, and slowly worked her way to the back, wand aloft as she tried to detect whatever trace of Dark Magic she could find.

Something prickled against her, as she neared the Prefects' carriage. She stopped and ran her fingers along the compartment doors, trying to latch onto the pulse she had just felt, and then pushed it open. This compartment was nearly identical to all the others, though it was slightly larger and had a few amenities, such as plush cushions and the fact that they would be the first ones to have the trolley witch stop by. Otherwise, it was rather unremarkable.

Hermione felt another twinge, as she ran her fingers along the compartment walls, which only grew stronger as she moved onto the cushions. She reached for the inside of her leg, where the hidden knife Sirius had given her for Christmas two years ago was stored, and pulled it out. She slashed one of the cushions, and hit nothing but hard wood. She tapped the cushion with her wand, tearing it out of the seat, and then ran her hands against the surface of the wood. There was magic imbued in it, and Hermione tugged and pulled and wrestled with it until it finally came undone, and the square length that had been covered by the cushion suddenly glowed and gave way. It shone brightly for a moment, and then it vanished, leaving behind a hollow compartment.

There, lying nestled at the bottom, was Hufflepuff's golden cup.

The door to the compartment opened, and Tonks stuck her head in.

"The students are here, you might want to—wotcher!" she said, sliding the door open further and stepping in. "What are you doing?"

In response, Hermione simply reached in and lifted up the cup, holding it up in the glistening afternoon sun.

~o~O~o~

Hermione pulled her son into a tight hug the minute he stepped foot in the Burrow. She had missed the train, having gone back to the Headmaster's office to dispose of the Horcrux immediately, and it was Sirius who picked him up from Platform 9 ¾ for the sake of keeping up appearances. She had a bookbag slung over her shoulder, with the destroyed remains of Hufflepuff's Cup wrapped up carefully inside.

She saw Selenius every day, but it was different once they were no longer in school. It was good to have him back.

"Mum," Selenius muttered, trying to pull away after moment. "They'll see—urf!"

He nearly fell over as Crookshanks wove around his legs, tripping him up, perhaps as justice served for making him ride back on the train in a carrier. Hermione laughed, and bent down to pick up the half-kneazle.

"Harry and Ron already know." She glanced over at the kitchen, where the boys could be seen mutinously peeling a mountain of sprouts. "Molly and Arthur are glad to have you, as usual. Ginny's upstairs with Fred and George—"

"I'm off." And so he was, racing up the stairs, no doubt eager to meet the famous twins in person. They didn't know about him yet, and unbeknownst to them, Selenius had already seen them before even though they hadn't seen him—but this would be the first time they spoke. Hermione chewed her lower lip as she watched him dash off. She was slowly trying to let him be less—well—hidden, but it was hard for her, knowing that if the wrong person found out, Selenius's life would be forfeit, among her own and Severus's.

Hermione and Severus could have told the Dark Lord that they had a son, but they had deliberately chosen not to. Now, if they did reveal it, Voldemort would be furious at the deception. There was simply no going back, and Hermione had accepted that. But Hermione had also eventually realized that they couldn't keep Selenius hidden, Dark Lord or not. He was growing up. He needed friends, to be allowed to stretch his wings, and make something of himself.

"You could help us, you know," Ron said, leaning back so that he could see her through the doorway. "One flick of your wand, and we'd be done."

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione said, pretending to think it over, but her grin gave away her intent to comply. She set Crookshanks back down, and he trotted off up the stairs to find Selenius.

"Please?" Ron implored.

Hermione let out a rather put-upon sigh, but snapped her wand at the sprouts. The knives flew out of Harry and Ron's hands, and began peeling the mountain of sprouts of their own accord. Ron let out a quiet whoop of, "Yes!" and Harry looked at her gratefully before the two of them darted up the stairs to join the others.

Sirius was nowhere to be seen, but Buckbeak was strolling through the garden, scratching at the ice-packed ground for gnomes, so she knew he had to be here. With a final look at the cozy home, she departed.

~o~O~o~

Hermione and Severus planned to stay at Spinner's End, and Hermione would visit the Burrow on Christmas Eve and the following day. Selenius was staying with the Weasleys, not just because Hermione and Severus actually wanted some time away from Hogwarts to be alone, but because there was always the chance that they would have unexpected guests. They both tried to push their cares and worries aside long enough to enjoy the moment; there was, after all, no point in taking time off from Hogwarts if they were going to spend it fretting over what they would have to do when they went back.

Lying next to each other on the couch, legs tangled and a book shared between them, was one of the best ways they could think of to spend their time. They were tired and drained, with only so much time to recuperate before they were once again thrust directly into the fray of their different duties. They occasionally sighed and shifted their positions, but for the most part, they spent the first evening of break in absolute lassitude and nuzzling silence.

They had fallen asleep in this position when there was a knock on the door. Hermione and Severus both startled awake, nearly throwing the other off and onto the floor as they scrambled to get to their feet. Severus stumbled a bit, as his legs had fallen asleep and lost all feeling in them, before making his way to the door. Hermione slid the bookcase behind them, hiding the fact that it was a secret passageway that led to the rest of the house, and then sat down in one of the armchairs, her expression perfectly neutral.

Severus opened the door a fraction, peering out into the street. And then a moment later, he opened the door a bit wider, enough that Hermione could see who he was talking to.

"Narcissa," he said, and Hermione recognized the polite, almost welcoming tone that he only used with the Malfoys. "What a pleasant surprise."

"I'm sorry to bother you, especially at Christmas," Narcissa said, in a low murmur that Hermione had to strain to hear. "But I felt—this was important—"

Severus opened the door further, indicating she should come in. Snow had fallen outside, and it was bitterly cold; Narcissa stepped inside, and Hermione was relieved to see that she was alone. She had feared for a moment that they might have to play host to Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Thank you," Narcissa said, lowering her hood. She saw Hermione, and a strange expression overtook her face, as though she wished she would disappear. "I apologize for coming this late."

"It's about Draco, I suppose?" Hermione asked lightly, crossing her legs.

"Yes," Narcissa said, her expression shuttered as she took a seat on the couch. "Though I have no… complaints about you. Draco seems to be doing adequately under your tutelage."

"He's doing excellently," Hermione said, affecting warmth to her tone as Severus took the armchair opposite her.

Narcissa looked only slightly mollified by this. "It's about when he graduates," she said, her voice quiet. "He won't need a job, which means he'll have plenty of time on his hands. And he's eager to prove himself to the Dark Lord…" she trailed off.

Hermione and Severus waited in stony silence, neither offering to finish Narcissa's words for her, and so the woman finally brought herself up to continue. "I don't wish for him to join," she said, the words tumbling out on their own, and it seemed that even she was frightened of her own daring. Hermione could see that it was taking a lot out of her to admit this to a fellow Death Eater. "Severus—you understand—you must…"

She covered her mouth with her hand for a moment, and then whispered, "I don't want him to follow his father's footsteps. Lucius has been in and out of Azkaban for this. Our reputation has suffered, and we've had some… proprietary losses. I cannot see a future for Draco in this."

"What do you expect me to do?" Severus asked, his voice low. "You can hardly expect me to go to the Dark Lord and ask him to spare Draco his service—"

"If Draco indicates an interest in pursuing a—a career," Narcissa said hesitantly, "the Dark Lord may leave him be. He's still just a boy. I doubt his lordship wants to deal with the—the difficulties that come with handling young adults."

"Young, spoiled recruits who have been privileged all their life," Hermione drawled, "who have never had to work a day in their life, and never grew up with the expectation of a job. Yes, I can imagine the Dark Lord has little patience for the type, though he'll still use them if he can."

Narcissa gave her a pained look, as though she couldn't quite tell whether Hermione was on her side or not.

"I suppose that you are asking for me to offer Draco an—apprenticeship?" Severus asked sleekly.

"No," Narcissa whispered. "I want him to take an apprenticeship out of the country. But he hasn't the marks or the extracurricular activities to explain why he would pursue it…"

Hermione understood. Narcissa couldn't simply bribe some well-known Potioneer to take her son on—aside from the fact that it would raise the Dark Lord's suspicions about why Draco was leaving, most Potions Masters wouldn't risk taking on someone potentially, dangerously incompetent for the task, no matter who or how handsomely their coffers were filled. In addition to the fact that with her husband out of Azkaban, hiding her financial affairs would be difficult, and Hermione suspected Lucius didn't quite agree with this.

A smile curled her lips.

"I suppose you'd want him to take remedial potions, then?" she asked, her tone light and mocking.

Narcissa shot her a sharp glare, but a moment later, both of their attention was on Severus. He was thinking carefully, Hermione's put-down gone unnoticed as he considered her other words. Hermione knew he was weighing his reputation as a Potions Master against his obligation as Draco's godfather. How far could he push the excuse of Slytherin favoritism in writing a letter of recommendation for someone who was neither interested in Potions, nor had the prerequisite skill to excel at the level a Master would expect? Severus had himself worked under Arsenius Jigger, and that had been a harrowing experience even for someone passionately invested in the subject.

Hermione recalled Draco's skill and interest in the Dark Arts, at least within her classroom, and then thought about one of the Professors she had had all those years ago, when she herself was a sixth year. Faulkner was probably still out of the country. Would he ever consider taking on an apprentice? Hermione remembered his skills as a teacher, and valued them highly. Would he remember one of his best students?

"To be honest, I never considered Draco to be good material as a potioneer," Severus said slowly, and Hermione could tell he was biding his time. "He would be ill-suited for it."

"If it means protecting him, then—"

"Then find an alternative," Hermione interrupted, coming to her husband's rescue. "Draco has done exceptionally well in my class. Why not have him apprentice to be a Curse-Breaker?" Narcissa's expression went blank but pale, and she added smoothly, "I already know someone who would be an excellent teacher, if I could convince him to take Draco on. It would require hard work, but I suspect this would be the better route for all concerned."

"Who?" Severus asked absently, still considering the merits of both proposals. "The only curse-breaker I can think of would be Bill Weasley, and I can't imagine—"

"I don't suppose you would remember Professor Faulkner?" Hermione asked.

It took a moment for Severus to place the name, and then he sneered. "We haven't the faintest clue where he is now. He may have moved back to the country by now—it's been nearly twenty years."

"It's still worth a look," Hermione replied diffidently. "He's an excellent teacher, and if not him, I'm sure we could find someone else. But risking your reputation as a Potions Master to give Draco a recommendation he can't live up to is guaranteed to end badly."

"That's true," Severus murmured.

"It can be done?" Narcissa asked quickly. Hermione could see the spark of hope in her eyes—the desperation in the lines on her face, and that only her trust in Severus was allowing her to accept the change in plans.

"I believe so," Hermione said, trying to resist biting her lower lip. It was a childish habit that she still indulged in, but not in front of Narcissa Malfoy. "If Draco continues to do well in my classes, and passes his NEWTs, I would be comfortable writing a recommendation for him and in acquiring Faulkner's cooperation."

"I'll arrange for additional tutoring if necessary," Severus allowed, glancing over at Hermione. "To ensure he passes."

"You swear it?" Narcissa asked in a low voice. "You'll do everything in your power to help him secure an apprenticeship?"

"You have my word."

The weight of the promise sank into the foreboding silence that enveloped the room, and then Narcissa stood up.

"I will hold you to that," she said, quietly, determinedly. "Thank you, Severus… Madam Snape."

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-Anubis