Hermione stood beside Draco at the château entrance and welcomed too many witches and wizards for her to keep track of for the first half hour. She smiled and greeted each one as they entered, gesturing with her hand to the sitting room nearby - the one she'd wished she would never have to enter again - and the ballroom behind the two sets of staircases leading to each tower. The volume in the space continued to rise as the partiers mingled, scattered around the bottom floor of the château.

She was allowed to speak at this event as opposed to her instructions to stay silent at the reception. The schedule she'd received for the weekend was from Travers, who reported that support for Voldemort had risen immensely with the introduction of Draco and Hermione's relationship into the narrative and continued to rise as they grew in fame.

This was a very different crowd than the one at Flourish and Blotts, though. Where the guests at the book signing exuded genuine excitement at the prospect of meeting her, the people at the party were hesitant; fascinated, yet hesitant. It was almost as if they knew what was happening; like they knew how much of a farce the whole thing was, but were going along because of the benefits they reaped. She knew they weren't aware of the arrangement, but even if they were, they'd certainly turn a blind eye.

Draco did most of the talking, recognizing many of the guests. He referenced people, places, and things she'd never heard of, and she was thankful she didn't have to make much small talk because her stomach was twisting with the knowledge that she'd have to see Lucius and Voldemort again.

She recognized the men from Draco's birthday party as they arrived, all of whom brought dates dressed and done up to perfection. The last one in was Davet, the man with broad shoulders and a sunken face who'd been completely sloshed the last time she'd seen him. Clinging to his arm was a girl that had to be Hermione's age or younger - she hoped to God not younger.

"Davet," Draco said, outstretching his hand and greeting the man with an added bout of fervor Hermione hadn't expected. "Great to see you here!"

"Likewise, likewise." Davet was boisterous as he shook Draco's hand, the girl on his arm jostling as he moved. "No Montague, I see," he said with a knowing look.

Draco huffed a laugh. "No, you know that invitation was promptly rescinded after his behavior at the last event."

"Cut 'em out that easily, do ya?" Davet lunged forward a bit to nudge Draco on the shoulder with his elbow. "I know to be careful around you, then!"

The men both laughed, and Hermione gave an obligatory chuckle. The interaction was so odd, she didn't know what to make of it.

"Well, don't be rude, mate, do introduce us," Draco said, gesturing to the girl.

"This is Maddie-"

"Maggie," she interjected.

"Sorry, yeah, she's actually from London but her parents sent her to Beauxbatons," Davet said.

"Really?" Hermione said. "That's interesting. Do you have family here or something?"

"No, father said I would have…better prospects here." Her face went red as her voice trailed off.

"Oh," Hermione said. "Well, it is a wonderful school! Did you just finish?"

The girl opened her mouth to speak, but Davet beat her to it in a hushed tone. "She's got another year." He winked, and Hermione's stomach lurched.

She looked at the girl as Draco pressed on with the conversation, changing subjects. Maggie's gaze was glued to the floor and the pink still shone on her cheeks. Hermione knew this kind of stuff happened. She knew there were pureblood families who treated their girls this way: raising them for the sole purpose of landing a husband, despite that person being almost twice their age, as Davet was. She could be sick.

"How is your father doing?" Draco asked Davet, nodding at a few people who entered the party.

Davet stepped aside for them as they passed. "He's well. And yours?"

Hermione could feel the lilt of their tones.

"Great," said Draco, the smile not quite meeting his eyes. "He should be here soon. You two should catch up."

Davet stepped into Draco, lowering his voice. "I will if the offer still stands as it was originally presented. You know my position on this. I won't pay for what the Janviers did."

She'd certainly be asking Draco what that was all about.

"Look, I don't set the terms. We'll meet with my father after he arrives." Draco's voice was just as low and hushed as Davet's.

Davet nodded and returned to an upbeat demeanor, clapping his hand on Draco's shoulder before walking off into the crowd.

Warmth radiated from Draco's body next to her. There was finally a lull in the arrivals, and Hermione could feel the moment even the slightest bit of tension released for them.

She lifted her lips towards his ear and whispered, "What was that all about?"

Draco mirrored her actions, hovering his lips just next to her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "He's joining."

Hermione nodded.

"I'll tell you more later. Whatever you want to know," he said.

She smirked at him. "Oooo, so you'll tell me about Blaise?"

He looked taken aback for a moment before grimacing. "Fine," he said.

"Good."

His fingers grazed her lower back just as his father appeared beyond the gates. Attached to Lucius's arm was Bellatrix, her wiry dark locks flying in the wind as she skipped alongside him down the path. Draco's fingers stilled against Hermione at the sight of his aunt.

"Oh, Draco, dear!" she dramatically cooed as she caught his eye. "Auntie's here!"

Hermione watched Bellatrix cup the side of his face and feign a look of pride before unfortunately turning to her.

"And his lovely new wife," she clipped, almost cupping Hermione's face, too, but she must have realized what she was about to do and dropped her hand, a sneer of disgust flashing in her expression.

"Not so new anymore, Bella," Lucius drawled as he sauntered in behind her. "They've been quite the couple for over a month now."

Hermione's body recoiled at his words. She forced herself to power through the interaction with the two people who had physically mamed her. She huffed a nervous laugh, acting as if she were engaging with family. .

"Father," Draco greeted tightly.

"Draco," Lucius said, tilting his head towards his son and raising an eyebrow.

Draco stepped closer to his father and spoke to him so quietly, Hermione couldn't hear, though she knew he'd be telling him about Davet.

They spoke for several beats, and all the while, Hermione avoided Bellatrix's gaze with every fiber of her being. Finally, Lucius walked off with Bellatrix, and Hermione caught how the vile woman tugged at his wrist to follow. She didn't even want to consider what that was all about. As a few more guests arrived, Hermione went through the motions as she was meant to do, Draco's fingers resuming their grazing.

"Do we have to wait for everyone?" she whispered up to Draco.

"No." He smiled down at her and pressed his hand to her back.

She let him guide her past guests as they drank from crystal glasses that floated around the room on silver trays. She had yet to see Voldemort or Ambassador Moreau. Many of the people they had met with on their previous trip to France had arrived, including Marius Mignone from Un Amour des Livres with his great white mustache. He was delighted to see them again and spoke for nearly twenty minutes with Draco about the upcoming rally and the surge of business in the lead-up to the release of The Real Hermione Malfoy. He apparently sold out on pre-orders alone.

They worked their way straight past the staircases until they emerged into the ballroom, thankfully skipping a stop into the sitting room. As they walked around, Draco stopped to talk with people here and there, and Hermione took in the decor. The room was smaller than the one at the Manor; brighter. The walls were covered in the same deep indigo wallpaper with little white peacocks as the room she stayed in on the top floor. Pearly silver imperial chandeliers like the ones in the sitting room hung throughout the space.

"Draco!"

Hermione whipped her head towards the voice. Odette was sauntering in their direction, the men she'd been with at the little pub by her side.

"Good to see you again," one of the men said as he reached his hand out to shake Draco's. Hermione couldn't remember his name, nor the names of the other men for that matter.

"Good to see you, too." Draco met hands with the man.

"You 'ave a lovely place 'ere." Odette cooed. Her bright blue eyes sparkled as she spoke, and Hermione wondered if she had a Veela or two somewhere in her ancestry.

"Thank you," Draco said. Odette raised her hand to him and he took it, lowering his lips to kiss the top.

"It's great to see you all again," Hermione said brightly, placing a hand on Draco's upper arm. "We are so glad to be back in France." She smiled up at him, a flash of surprise at her bold interjection in his expression.

Hermione held her grin and looked back to the others. Odette eyed her and Draco with a knowing, yet puzzled look.

"Are you looking forward to ze rally tomorrow?" Odette asked. "I 'eard 'ow well ze first one went in Bulgaria and 'ave been anxiously awaiting France's turn."

"Yes, it went smoothly," Draco said, his arm wrapping around Hermione's waist, "as I am sure tomorrow will go." His fingers resumed their caresses. "How did things go with Mr. Selwyn after our meeting last month?"

"He has been a wonderful representative," Odette said, her light hair bouncing about her shoulders. She leaned in and lowered her voice. "And we certainly didn't mind the incentive." She smirked and glanced at the men beside her who mirrored her expression at her comment.

"I told you," Draco said, a smile forming on his lips, his eyebrows raised.

Hermione swallowed, willing her thoughts to abandon the image of Draco and Odette alone in a room together.

"Once it eez signed, it really comes down to ze local businesses, no?" Odette said in her airy voice.

"'Ermione?" Odette questioned. "What do you zink?"

She wracked her brain for whatever she could pull together out of what they'd been discussing. Something about the efficacy of the Advancement Decree? "Real change happens from the bottom up," she said. "It's a step in the right direction to hold formal, legal proceedings regarding any major changes within government, but it's ultimately up to the individuals and small groups within society for any real change to occur."

"Exactly," Draco said. "And that's why we're doing so much ground work. It's gone relatively well here, but we haven't had as much luck in places like Spain and Switzerland. There is a growing underground resistance that's been giving us some trouble, though we have teams working 'round the clock in each country to quell the push back. It's only a matter of time before their Ministries see reason and take action."

"Who's running ze Spain team?" Vincent asked. "I zought it was one of ze main places on Lord Voldemort's list?"

"Yes, well," Draco said. "It's just taking a bit longer to get things moving over there."

As they discussed, Hermione was caught off guard by the sight of Lev Zograf in the doorway. His eyes were roving the room until they landed on her. He mouthed something she couldn't make out and jerked his head, gesturing for her to go speak with him. She wondered if she could break off from the group. Would it look bad to speak with him one-on-one? Yes, probably. She tried to stay focused on the conversation before her, but kept meeting her gaze with Lev's as he nonchalantly made his way through the crowd towards her. She took a flute filled with champagne as it floated by on a tray, downing half the glass in one go.

"You really shouldn't have that if you're trying, you know," one of the men said with a knowing look to her stomach.

"Oh, we're not-"

Draco took the flute from her. "That's a good point," he said, flashing her a smirk before finishing the drink.

She rolled her eyes.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," said a smooth female voice on Draco's other side. "Please excuse my intrusion." Ambassador Moreau walked up to their group. "Ah, Leon, Yanis. Lovely to see you 'ere."

"Ambassador," the men said with a nod of their heads.

Yanis introduced her to Odette, Vincent, Paul, and Augustin, and Hermione searched for Lev's auburn hair in the crowd.

"Glad to see you are feeling well, Madame Malfoy," the ambassador said.

Hermione whipped her head back to the woman and gave her a puzzled look before realizing that the last time she'd seen her was when she was coughing uncontrollably. The others bid them farewell and left Hermione alone with Draco and the ambassador.

"Well, I am allergic to pineapples," she said with an awkward smile and shrug. "Apparently the elves forgot when making the salmon sauce. I do apologize for missing the rest of our meeting."

"Zat's alright, dear," Moreau said to her with a smile that didn't meet her eyes. "Anyways, I've been talking with Ambassador Spataro about ze upcoming rally over zere. 'E says eet will take place on ze eighteenth and not ze twenty-fifth as was originally planned?"

Draco explained how rapidly things were progressing, and that Voldemort was wanting to accommodate more destinations. He confirmed, too, that the rally in Belgium was just set for August first and that there were talks about an Austrian rally for August fifteenth. Hermione half heard what was going on as she met her gaze again with Lev. The look in his eyes was increasingly crazed, and the panic in her rose along with his desperation to speak with her.

She opened her mouth to make an excuse to get away, but just as she did, the Ambassador spoke. "Are you looking forward to visiting Beauxbatons at ze start of term? I imagine you'll also be visiting Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Hermione said, frustration building within her at constantly being pulled back in. "I love school and I love the idea of being a positive influence on current students."

The corners of Draco's mouth lifted.

"And you, Draco?" the Ambassador asked.

"Can't wait. We are actually scheduled to meet with the Headmistress of Hogwarts at the end of the month to discuss the upcoming year."

"Ah, yes, Alecto eez in zat role now?"

"She is. As you can imagine, Amycus was not pleased about that," he said with a chuckle.

The Ambassador laughed and took a sip of her drink. She eyed Hermione pointedly. "So, Hermione," she started. She looked at her with an air of wariness. "I received a copy of a wonderful new book ze other day." One of her narrow eyebrows lifted.

Hermione's face grew hot, and she couldn't tell if it was more from her anger or embarrassment. "Oh," was all she could say.

"I must say, you 'ave already been through so much in your young life. All ze bad influences and terrifying situations you were roped into…" The woman looked down at her with her raised brow, emulating pity.

If there was any way for Hermione to get out of the conversation, she would take it. In fact, she would prefer to find the closest washroom and hide herself in it for as long as she could. Maybe she could get one of the elves to serve her something with pineapple in it again?

Draco cleared his throat. "I don't mean to speak for my wife's experiences, but if things had gone differently for her, we may never have found each other."

Ambassador Moreau finally took her eyes off Hermione. "What a lovely thought," she said. "And I know all about your love story." She winked at Draco. "Zat Rita Skeeter is wonderful at spilling all ze details. I just love her writing."

Hermione snorted and immediately coughed, trying to play it off. She took another flute of champagne as a tray floated by. When she sipped, she found Lev again amidst the growing crowd of people. He wasn't looking at her then. Instead, he was downing a glass of amber liquid and very obviously trying to get out of a conversation with an older, portly man.

Draco had started on about the projected changes in the Hogwarts curriculum that Voldemort would be working to implement at Beauxbatons, as well.

Over the next hour, Draco and Hermione made their way around the ballroom and mingled with the many guests. Hermione barely spoke, yet she held light conversations with a few people about mundane aspects of life: plans for any updates to the decor at any of the Malfoy properties….flowers that were in season…and upcoming scheduled events. She hated every minute of it. Draco staved off any questions about his mother's well-being with the usual excuses, and when anything more serious about missions and intel on the Order arose, he skillfully navigated the exchange. When she looked up at him as he spoke, she noted the subtle clues behind his carefully composed mask that told her he hated it just as much as she did. She could read him like one of her books.

At some point along the furthest wall, a long table went from being completely bare save for an intricately designed tablecloth to disappearing under an array of hor d'oeuvres.

Hermione almost made it to Lev several times, and he almost made it to her just as many. But every time they got close, something pulled them away.

In the middle of a particularly boring conversation with a few of the shop owners from Montmotre, Hermione caught Lev just a foot away in her peripheral vision. He was listening intently to an older couple, his eyebrows raised in obviously false interest. When she glanced down, she saw how his hand was almost imperceptibly outstretched towards her. Her eyes flickered to her group before she nonchalantly reached for Lev's hand and grasped a tiny folded up paper.

She met eyes with Lev again, and behind his brief stare was worry that sent her heart sinking, unease plummeting through her stomach. Was something terrible going to happen at the party? Was another Order member captured? Had someone else died? No. No, no, no.

She opened her mouth to excuse herself to the washroom when a sea of heads turned to the doors.

"He's here." Draco said. He excused the two of them from their conversation and led her through the entrance towards the foyer.

"Draco," she said in a hushed tone. "Something's wrong."

"What?" He kept his head faced forward.

"Lev's here."

"He's not supposed to-"

"I know. He gave me this," she whispered, tilting her hand to the side for him to glance at the folded note.

Voldemort stood under the frame of the ornate double doors in his signature billowing black robes. They looked more polished than they had at the Manor. He strode inside with an air of elitism in his demeanor, followed by Selwyn.

Draco swallowed, but kept his composure.

She took Draco's arm as they walked forward to greet Voldemort.

"My Lord," Draco said, bowing. "Welcome back to Château de la Basmaignée."

Hermione followed suit and took her place beside Draco as she was meant to do.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," Voldemort said in a smooth hiss that made Hermione shiver. He looked around at the crowded room of quiet people. "Ah, I see we have a full crowd this evening."

"Yes, all here for you, my Lord," Lucius said as he approached.

"Not now, Lucius, I must meet my guests."

Lucius bowed and stepped aside.

"Carry on," Selwyn yelled, and the music and chatter returned to its full volume.

Hermione held onto Draco's arm as he followed Voldemort further into the room and turned right. They were heading into the sitting room where at least thirty people were scattered around drinking, talking, and eating. Selwyn leaned in to speak quietly with Draco, and to Hermione's other side, Lucius walked, scowling down at her. She tore her eyes away from him and flinched knowing that Bellatrix wasn't too far behind.

"Lord Voldemort." The portly man Lev had been talking with earlier was the first to approach Voldemort and extend a hand. "I'm Claude Leduc, owner of Bonnetvolant Chapellerie. Eet eez wonderful to meet you at last."

Voldemort tilted his head ever so slightly towards the man and failed to touch his hand. Selwyn whispered in his ear for a split second. "You make headwear," Voldemort said, feigning interest. "Great work." He nodded his head once more and glided off.

"Thank you for your support," Selwyn said to the man.

Draco mirrored Voldemort's action and followed, his father stopping behind him to talk with the man. Hermione was baffled at how dismissive Voldemort was to the people he talked to as he coursed through the room. Wasn't he trying to win these people over? Didn't he need their support?

She did as she had been instructed, following Draco's lead by making the rounds. She wasn't sure why they were meant to do so, as they'd already spoken with quite a few of the people they encountered again. But she wouldn't dare try to question it or take a moment to peek at the slip of paper Lev had handed her until she had a safer opportunity.

On the way back into the foyer, Hermione tried to unfold the paper with her fingers, but it was too dangerous. She grasped Draco's hand and pressed the note into his palm for him to read. They made it back through the foyer and into the ballroom and once again found Davet Dumont, who was happy to introduce himself to Voldemort. The interaction was swift, but when it was over, Draco met his gaze with Hermione, signaling that he'd speak with Davet and his father then. He couldn't look at the paper, so he met hands with her and tried to give it back, but Lucius pulled him into the conversation.

Hermione finally had an open moment, but she didn't have the note. She turned towards the closest wall where there was a small door to a washroom. She'd clocked it earlier in the night. If she could just get the little paper back, she could slip away for a moment and read it. But Draco was in the middle of an intense discussion, and his hand had darted into his robe pocket.

Hermione stood there waiting for another connection with Draco.

A flurry of gasps echoed throughout the room as a man covered in gashes and blood stumbled through the fireplace. He looked as if he was going to say something - or possibly as if he was going to puke - but he just stared ahead wide-eyed until he collapsed. The guests' screams and shouts of shock were piercing.

Lucius, Bellatrix, and Selwyn shoved their way through the crowd of people to get to the man lying in a growing pool of blood on the floor. Voldemort strode calmly behind them.

Hermione darted back towards Draco, who was struggling to keep his mask in place as he turned around in a panicky search for her.

Selwyn's projected voice rang in her ears as he walked around ushering people out with his wand to his throat. "No need to worry! Just a slight hiccup! Flare for the dramatics, that one!"

Draco finally saw her and tried to close the distance between them, shoving past people rushing by.

"Draco," his aunt hissed from where the body lay on the floor. Lucius was doing a number of spells on the man while Voldemort stood in front of the fireplace speaking down into it.

Draco connected his gaze with Hermione's for a fleeting moment. She tried to move forward a few more paces but he stopped, swallowed, and fixed an icy expression before turning towards his aunt and rushing off.

Knots twisted in Hermione's stomach. She strode past the confused and panicky guests as they left and stood before the man on the floor.

"Well, who was Perrot out with tonight?" Draco asked the others.

"I don't know, but he was just supposed to be on a lookout," Lucius said.

A mediwitch emerged from green flames in the fireplace, followed by Travers, Mulciber, and Graham Montague.

Bella stood and faced the youngest of the group whose robes were covered in dirt, his eyes wide. "What happened?" she snapped.

Montague stuttered.

The last of the guests were ushered out of the ballroom.

"I- …I-" Montague tried.

Voldemort brandished his wand and flicked it in the man's face. "Crucio," he hissed.

Montague's knees buckled beneath him. He fell to the floor and screamed in silent agony; someone must have cast a Muffliato on him.

Hermione's whole body tensed as she watched the man writhe on the floor, almost feeling the splitting pain of the curse all over again. She looked at Draco who had gone similarly rigid, though his mask was sealed in place.

Bellatrix cackled in glee as if she'd been waiting for the party to really get started.

All Hermione could do was stand there looking on in horror. She had no way to escape and even if she did, she knew she'd be plucked and pulled back with ease by any of Voldemort's team.

Voldemort released the curse and walked around the man who lay crumpled in a heap, his body twitching. Voldemort bent down so his face was closer to Montague. "Speak," he said.

Montague righted himself in several horribly strained movements until he was propped up on his elbows and looking at his master with terror-filled eyes. The words tumbled out of him in desperation. "We were tracking the girl's mum outside Fifty Five Bar just as we were told when they ambushed us-"

Hermione went impossibly still. The girl?

"Who attacked you?" Selwyn asked.

"It was her! And the Janviers, the Zograf boy, and some other bloke-"

Lucius appeared before Hermione and gripped her elbow. She gasped and jolted at the contact. "That's enough for you," he hissed. He yanked on her arm and pulled her towards the door.

" …and Theo's down," she heard Montague say. "I lost him in the crossfire-"

Bellatrix's voice was shrill as she lashed out at the man for his team getting caught. Hermione heard Voldemort's quiet, terrifying tone silence her.

Hermione looked over her shoulder before she was shoved out of the room. Draco was still rigid yet well-collected by the slightly stirring body of the injured man named Perrot. He glanced at her, no emotion in his eyes or buried in his expression as far as she could see, and then she was shut out behind the slam of the ballroom doors.

He still had the note.

She hadn't seen or heard from Draco in days. Lev had vanished and was slandered in every newspaper Lottie had brought to Hermione, none of which gave any insight into the state of Draco or the Order. The only news she got was that Theo had been admitted to St. Mungo's and would be there for the foreseeable future after he was severely injured by a crumbling section of a building in the fight.

Hermione also learned that the girl Montague had referenced was Angelina Johnson, who had earned her way to the top of the Undesirable list alongside Lev, Oliver Wood, and the Janviers. Their pictures were plastered all over the newspapers each day and Skeeter wrote that there had already been hundreds of tip-offs and sightings from diligent members of wizarding society.

The rally in France had gone on as planned to ensure the public was reassured that all was well, though security was heavily increased. Hermione was escorted by Lucius, who kept her by his side the whole time. He spoke on behalf of Draco and praised his son for his valiant efforts in tracking down and capturing the dark witches and wizards aligned with the Order of the Phoenix. Hermione had struggled the whole time to keep calm and to play her part, but she made it through without any hiccups.

When it was over, she was taken back to the Manor and locked in her room once again. Lottie came and went, bringing her favourite meal when she could and dropping off more parchment along with the papers, as Hermione had requested.

She had cried the first few nights Draco was gone. Not just for him, but for all that had happened and all that was still to come. He could be out there, anywhere, hunting down her friends. It was only a matter of time before he caught one or more of them, and every time she thought of that possibility, she scrambled to find something to distract her before she was sick.

More and more, hope was dwindling.

Lev had risked his life showing up to that party to give her the note, and she had no idea what it said. And now he was gone, and Theo - their only other ally on the inside - was so badly injured he apparently couldn't speak. She didn't know the extent of his injuries, but she knew there was no way he would be able to help them find Hagrid and Narcissa from a hospital bed.

There was nothing Hermione could do but exist. She forced herself to get out of bed each day. She forced herself to shower and read and tear her eyes away from Draco's windowed balcony doors where she hoped to see light shine through.

She read every word printed in every paper she received, searching between the lines of Skeeter's lies, and the lies of other Daily Prophet reporters. There were countless articles sprinkled throughout each edition about her; little blurbs and updates about random tidbits of her life, all untrue, of course. What was most haunting about each of these stories were the photos accompanying them. The photo version of her was always smiling as she walked around in different places. Although she remembered the outfits, she never remembered the moments that were supposedly captured. Something was always off.

Hermione sighed as she flipped through the Thursday edition of the paper and saw another fabricated article accompanied by a photo of her in a blue a-line dress with long slitted sleeves and charcoal pumps. She'd worn it on her first outing with Draco after the wedding reception, though the dress was light grey, not blue. And she'd worn it in France, not in Diagon Alley. Upon inspection of the altered photograph, she could faintly see the ghost of a hand in hers where her fingers had been interlaced with Draco's in the real version of the depicted events.

HERMIONE MALFOY'S DAY IN DIAGON

On one of the sunniest days of the year, Hermione Malfoy graced us with a stroll down Diagon Alley on Tuesday, just a few days after her handsome hubby was sent on assignment as a lead member of the Defense Enforcers, writes Janey Picket, correspondent. She reportedly met with her new grandmother-in-law, Druella Black, with whom she has built quite a harmonious relationship since her marriage to the infamous Black matriarch's only grandchild. Sources say the two have been visiting Narcissa Malfoy, who is still recovering after the unfortunate hex she took at the Resolution of Hogwarts early last month.

Hermione's mother-in-law is said to have made major progress in her recovery, but is taking it easy before a resurgence into society. She hopes to be fully healed once her son and his lovely wife bring the first Malfoy heir into the world, which sources say could be sooner rather than later. Eagle-eyed readers have pointed out that Hermione may be starting to show in the most recent photos of her. Could her baby blue dress be a nod to something growing underneath?

She let out a frustrated sigh. She wasn't showing anything. Hermione folded the paper neatly and placed it on the bedside table where she'd left the others. The growing stack was a reminder of how many days she'd spent alone in the stuffy room…how many days Draco had been gone.

As the days dragged on, she went through the same motions: get up, shower, read, exist…repeat. Below her room was a constant shuffling of people. Their voices were jumbled and intermixed; sometimes they were quiet whispers and at other times, they were screaming matches. She heard shattering glass and the whooshes of the fireplace all throughout the day. Through the window, she caught glimpses of people at the Apparition point entering or leaving the gates, but after the first few days, she stopped looking; stopped caring to keep her ears peeled for what was happening downstairs.

Hermione leaned against her pillow. The clock on the wall read 3:06 a.m. In her palm, she turned one of the silver snitches over and over, the note he'd sent her the previous week resting on the sheet beside her. Sweet dreams.