A/N - No author's note today! :D

Narcissa Malfoy hurried along the dark street, her cloak's hood pulled up to hide her white-blonde hair, trying to blend into the walls of the buildings as she passed. The streets were all but deserted at this hour, and she knew she could have Apparated here, but she didn't want to call unnecessary attention to herself. Her mission called for secrecy.

She finally arrived in front of the tall apartment building and for the first time, she lowered her hood. A tall young man with hair shimmering silver in the moonlight stood waiting there, and looked up when he noticed her moving in the shadows.

"What is it? What is this all about?" he asked, stepping forward into the light. She shook her head.

"I must be quick about this," she whispered. "If your father knew I was here," she shuddered visibly. "But I need to tell you…"

"Come with me," Draco said, grabbing her arm suddenly. "To my flat. We can talk more freely there." Narcissa nodded, and they hurried inside.

Once they were safely tucked away inside his flat, Draco gestured toward the couch and Narcissa sat. She sighed and began to absentmindedly play with her long hair as it pooled over her shoulders. Draco brought her a cup of tea and sat down next to her. Narcissa took the cup and cradled it in her lap, not looking at him.

"I know you read the paper and know about the date," she began. "It wasn't my doing, Draco. I don't know what's gotten into your father. He keeps ranting about breaking you down and respecting him and all of that nonsense. I'm not here to talk about him. I wanted to tell you more about the ring."

Draco stared at her. She paused for a moment.

"Last night you talked about love. That's the secret," she added, finally looking into her son's eyes. "Love. That's the magic of the ring."

"Love?"

"Yes. It is love that seals the bond. If there were no love, there would be no bond," Narcissa stated simply.

"But Mother, I know she doesn't love me." And I don't love her.

"If she didn't love you, she would be able to remove the ring. If you didn't love her, the spell would be broken. The only other way to break the bond is death. She loves you, darling, and you love her, whether you realize it or not." Narcissa gave her son a shrewd look. Draco knew his eyes were wide as saucers and his eyebrows could have disappeared into his hairline. "Did you think I didn't know, Ducky?"

Draco noticed with a start that his mouth was hanging open. He quickly shut it firmly, and stared at his mother.

"Darling, I told you, not for nothing am I your mother." Narcissa smiled at him as he finally regained his composure.

"You knew? This whole time," Draco breathed. She nodded. The world must indeed be upside down; but it still didn't make sense. He didn't love Hermione. He barely even liked her! Sure he was attracted to her, but that was as far as it went, of course.

"The ring's magic doesn't lie, darling," Narcissa said softly, as if she could read his thoughts. Then she stood to her feet suddenly. "I've said all I needed to say, then. Best be getting back before your father notices I'm missing." Draco stared up at her blankly, and the next second she had turned on the spot and was gone.

Monday morning, Hermione dragged herself out of bed. She dragged herself through her morning routine. She dragged herself down the street through the misty grey morning and to the Apparition point, where she sighed and turned, instantly reappearing in an alleyway near the Ministry. She dragged herself down the alley and through the entrance of the Ministry. She ignored the stares of the people she passed as she dragged herself to the lift and listened to the clear voice ring out the names of the floors.

Several witches and wizards piled on and off at every stop, and Hermione tried to ignore their whispers as the waited for the lift to reach Level Two, where her office was situated. She closed her eyes and counted the floors. Seven, six, five, four… The lift stopped, and the cool voice rang out over her head.

"Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau."

She opened her eyes and glanced around. There was no one on the lift with her now, so she stared at the door, waiting for it to open and allow someone to get on board. When it did, a wizard with long, rather grizzly looking gray hair and wearing bright orange robes greeted her, smiling broadly.

"Come along Miss Granger, I'll walk you to your office," he said, gesturing behind him.

"B-but, my office is on Level Two," she said stupidly. The wizard in the orange robes smiled even more broadly and gently grabbed her arm to lead her down the corridor. He kept on talking as if he didn't notice Hermione's protests and thunder-struck expression.

"You've been made Undersecretary to the Head of Department, you know," he continued with a wink. "I daresay you'll be right in your element." He stopped in front of a door that, strangely enough, held a golden nameplate with Hermione Granger, Undersecretary to Newt Scamander written on it.

"Newt Scamander? You can't be serious! He wrote Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them!" she said excitedly. "Does this mean I get to work with him?"

"Yes," the wizard replied with another wink. "Now settle in, he'll be in to see you momentarily."

Then he was gone. Hermione looked around her, taking in her new surroundings. The office was certainly quite a bit bigger than her old one, and the desk in front of her was mahogany, with a very comfy looking chair behind it. She crossed the room and sat down, noticing the shelves and shelves of books that lined the walls as she leaned back, testing out the new chair. Her new office actually had a window, and she gazed out of it into a bright sunny day, even though she was miles underground. She giggled as she remembered the dreary, misty morning she had left behind as she entered the Ministry, and was grateful to the Department of Magical Maintenance for the lovely weather she was enjoying. The sun even felt warm on her skin.

A few moments later there was a knock at her door.

"Come in," she called cheerfully. The door opened and in stepped the same orange-clad wizard from before. Hermione stared at him in expectation as he spread his arms wide in greeting.

"Hermione Granger! It's so good to finally meet you. My name is Newt Scamander," he added with a sweep of his hands, indicating himself. Hermione gaped at him.

"M-Mr. Scamander," she said shakily, standing up and extending her hand. He grasped it firmly and gave her a solemn look.

"Please, call me Newt."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sc—I mean Newt, but didn't you just show me my office?"

"Yes, yes I did," he said, sitting down in the chair opposite her desk and beginning to twiddle his thumbs. He's mad, she thought wildly. In another second she had reprimanded herself for thinking of her new boss this way. After all, there were quite a few people who had thought Dumbledore had been mad, but he was simply an eccentric genius.

She sat down and looked at him, waiting for him to say something, anything else, but he simply continued to twiddle his thumbs and whistle to himself as he gazed around her office, completely at his ease. Hermione cleared her throat. Mr. Scamander (for she just couldn't bring herself to think of him as Newt just now) looked at her suddenly, then leaned forward in his chair and rested his forearms on the edge of the desk.

"So," he said. Hermione waited for him to say more, but he didn't.

"Sir?" she tried.

"Well, what do you want to do here? I was told that you were extremely interested in the fair and equal treatment of non-humans. There's no better place to do something about it than right where you're sitting. So? Where will you begin?" he countered, raising his bushy grey eyebrows at her. Hermione felt taken aback. She thought about it. He was right. Somehow, she had been put in a position where she could make a real difference. Where would she begin?

"I suppose, sir, that the best place to begin is the beginning."

He smiled at her and slapped the top of her desk happily. "That's my girl! Excellent," he added as he stood up and positively beamed at her. "You're going to go far, my dear, mark my words, you're going to go far."

Hermione beamed right back at him. She hadn't felt this good since school…and she felt at that moment as if she could take on the whole world.

Draco felt horrible. He hadn't been able to sleep a wink last night, after his mother had come to tell him…he couldn't even think about it. The ring had to be wrong, that was all. There was no way in hell that it was love that bound him to Hermione Granger. Even the very thought of it was deranged! The very idea!

He looked out his window at the colorless afternoon. The rain was coming down in earnest now, and it slid down his window in a dreary sort of way that matched his mood. The entire night he had thought and reasoned his way through his mother's whole speech time and again, and came to the conclusion that the ring couldn't be wrong. It was very old magic, after all, and she had said it couldn't be fooled by ordinary means.

Draco heaved a heavy sigh. There was nothing for it. If he didn't love Hermione (and he didn't, of course), then the reason the ring wouldn't come off was that she, inexplicably, loved him.

He understood, obviously, if she was attracted to him; he was devilishly handsome, unequivocally debonair and thoroughly charming. He didn't blame her if she thought so, after all, how could he blame her for simply noticing something that was so glaringly obvious and undeniably true?

But still. After all the history they had? They had never gotten along even from the first moment they met. He'd thought he was above her, with all his breeding and proper blood. All through school they'd been on opposite sides of an invisible but palpable battle line, she on one side with Potty and the Weasel, fighting for good and light and Hufflepuffs, and he on the other with his pure blood banner flying high. Always against each other. Slytherin and Gryffindor. Dark and light.

Then, of course, there was the business in sixth year, and even seventh, when he had been working for the Dark Lord…he shuddered to even think of it. It wasn't something he was proud of. They had really been on opposite sides then, but this time there were real battle lines, and real repercussions. Real people had died.

When the war was over, he hadn't seen her again, not for years. He'd almost forgotten about her—almost. It was rather hard to forget her, the insufferable know-it-all, with her ridiculous notions of treating everyone (human or not) with the same courtesy and respect, her unaccountable brilliance with a wand. When he had required an accomplice to his plan, someone to pose as his girlfriend, she had fit the bill.

It wasn't so odd that she had agreed to do it, after all, she had needed his help. During the course of events that had ensued, they had become, well, friends. But for her to love him? He thought for sure with all the bad blood between them that she, with her high standards and morals and all that rot, would never stoop so low as to love him.

It didn't have to make sense. He had long stopped trying to analyze the situation. Now his mind was made up. The only way for the ring to come off was if there were no love. That's what his mother had said. No love, no bond. His mission was clear.

If they were to make it out of this, he would have to make Hermione stop loving him. The only other option was to kill himself, as his mother had said that death was the only other way out, and he certainly wasn't stupid enough to do that. What good would that do him? No, he had to make her hate him. Inwardly, he scoffed; only two weeks ago she did hate him. What did she want to love him for anyway? He hadn't done anything to warrant love.

She deserved better than him, she deserved someone who could love her back and make her happy. Possibly settle down and have four or five children, all brilliant little things who were hell-bent on saving the world, just like their mother. In his mind's eye he saw them all running around her feet as she beamed up at some faceless bloke who probably didn't deserve her, either, but at least he made her happy. Draco knew he couldn't give her that. He couldn't love her, and he couldn't make her happy like that.

He would have to make Hermione hate him, and set them both free.

A/N 2 - Da da da! Preview time again, folks!

xxxxxxx

"He loves you too, only he doesn't believe it," Narcissa went on, ignoring Hermione's expression. "He must have tried to hurt you to break the spell, but it doesn't work that way...love doesn't die that easily...but...the only way you could have taken that ring off..." She stopped short and her eyes grew as wide as saucers. Hermione saw that she was afraid, utterly terrified.