Amelie woke sometime in the night. The infirmary was dark and silent, apart from the soft sound of Draco breathing as he slept.

"Are you alright?"

Alright, maybe he wasn't asleep. Amelie decided very quickly that whoever said you could tell whether someone was asleep or not just by their breathing was either a liar or very sensitive. Either way, she could never tell. Or rather, she could. She just always got it wrong.

"I'm alright. You?" She replied into the darkness.

"I've had better days. I just feel really sore and super-sensitive."

"It's all that new skin." Amelie said knowledgebly.

"What?"

Amelie's eyesight was beginning to adjust to the point where she could see Draco in the next bed, almost blending in with the sheets, he was so pale. Although his eyes did contrast – dark islands in a pale sea.

"When you kissed the pheonix and Hermione, you were terribly burned. Fawkes and Hermione spent a long time crying over you to heal you."

"Pheonix tears."

"Precisely. That's why you feel so sensitive – just about all your skin is brand new. That and the fact all the hair was scorched from your body. You're bloody lucky you arent bald." She saw his hand, pale in the dim light, go to his head.

"So I am. What did the missive say?"

"It was a letter from Father." Amelie said shortly. There was a pause. "It's nearly time."

"When?" He asked softly.

"He's going to call for me…and tell me what's going to happen. I will explain who is loyal to our cause…like you and Snape, for instance. And whose loyalties seem less than believable. Like Blaise, for instance. He trusts me implicitly."

"And you're playing against him."

"I've seen too much of the world to fight for him. And I'm only eighteen. You and I were scheduled to get betrothed, I believe, so you can be my chief accomplice in this double game we're playing. If you're willing, that is."

"It'll make the story believable." Draco said with a kind of repressed relief. "My father knows I was 'involved' with Hermione, but if you actually are Hermione, then he cant kill either of us!"

"And I can punish him for his dreadfull behaviour to you last night. Oh, this shall be entertaining." Amelie smiled.

"These people-" Draco began, a lecture both Hermione and Amelie were growing increasingly familiar with.

"Are the ones I grew up with. I know these people, Draco. I grew up with them."

"No you didn't. You grew up with Snape's sister, and she was a squib!"

"What have you got against squibs?"

"Nothing, except they are the closest thing you will get to a muggle and still be able to call yourself a wizard! They are killed just as swiftly as muggles, Amelie. Whatver view of the wizarding view she gave you, it wasn't the same one the deatheaters have!"

"Not many know that Jula was a squib, Draco. And I did spend the last seven years with daddy dearest. I know how he feels about people, and I know how to act up to his expectations. And even if I didn't, there isnt anything we can do about it. Our only option now is to wait and see."

"Wait and see? I hate those words. They're too uncertain."

"It's a main rule of our game, Draco. Uncertainty is half of it."

"And the other half?" Draco asked unbelievingly.

"Is winning." Amelie said flatly. "I play for keeps, Draco. And I will not lose."

&

Time passed quickly, time that Amelie and Hermione spent in a state of anxious expectancy. It seemed every owl that winged its way across the hall in the morning would be the one that would bring the summons. And every time Ron or Harry asked if she was alright, she had to restrain herself from snapping at them. There was a lot of stress going on in her life.

Plus points, Hermione and Draco were getting on very well. It didn't do Amelie a lot of good, as she locked herself in her mental box for the night, but she still experienced the loose, well-loved feeling the body received after every night spent in Draco's arms.

He was an excellent lover.

In the meantime, there was the small issue of Blaise and the torched hallway to clear up. Students passing the hallway the day Hermione and Blaise broke up were witness to various teachers charming the hallway back to its original state. They couldn't, however, get the scorch marks out. It appeared that Hermione-Amelie-the-pheonix had melted parts of the stone walls, floor and ceiling, and now there were glass-smooth parts in dips and curly-cues in really random places.

Hermione had to admit she was oddly gratified by that.

Staff and pupils would remember the legend of Hermione Granger, who got everything right every single time. But eventually even that would disappear completely.

Its kind of difficult to make rock disappear. In fact, the only real way to do it is the destroy the entire castle. In which case it wouldn't matter whether people remembered Hermione for her brains or not.

&

The summons began on a Wednesday night at the end of January. Amelie spent the better part of the evening over the toilet, as Hermione was in a acute state of panic, believing herself pregnant. Amelie, having tried to assure her there wasn't a chance in hell, simply took over and dealt with the odious business of upchucking.

She hated it when Father summoned her like this.

In a way, it was convenient. After all, it was clear to anyone who saw her at dinner and anytime afterwards that she was getting very sick. McGonagall, when passing her in the hall, took one look at her and nodded.

"I wont be expecting you in class tomorrow. I'll tell the rest of the staff. Severus is getting sick as well." She said, so softly Hermione barely heard her. Hermione nodded, not quite understanding, and kept on. Amelie had to explain.

But Amelie's explanation still didn't stop the fact that Hermione was freaking about being pregnant. Amelie had performed her favourite test-spell (ninety-eight percent accuracy) and found it negative. So when Hermione still insisted on panicking, Amelie shunted her out the way.

Thus, when Draco came in after spending a rewarding evening in the library doing his extensive homework tasks, Amelie was in control. And bloody-well fed up of puking.

"Are you alright?" he asked, leaning on the doorjamb of the bathroom hesitantly.

"No I'm not fucking alright." Amelie snapped. Draco sighed.

"Are you planning on staying this sick? Because we both know He's going to call you soon."

"We have a fountain of youth, Draco. So why the fuck isnt there a fountain of smart? What the blue bloody blazes do you think is wrong with me? Deatheaters get itches and eventual pain, I get sick!"

"He's calling you now then?"

"Sometimes your genius amazes me." Amelie coughed and spat, screwing up her face at the disgusting taste.

"Do the staff know?"

"McGonagall said she'd tell the others."

"So, you'll go tonight?"

"Probably. I'll have a miraculous recovery at about midnight, have time to have a shower and get dressed, and then Snape'll come for me."

"Snape's going as well?"

"He's a deatheater, dearest. Now, I don't think I've got anything left to throw up, so I'm going to bed for a few hours. Night."

Amelie did a teeth-cleaning spell and then brushed past Draco and went to bed. And for the first time in a while, Draco's bed had only him in it.

&

As she predicted, Amelie woke at three minutes past midnight feeling chipper and wide awake. She showered, and then stood before her wardrobe in her underwear, trying to decide on what would make the correct statement.

She had grown up in the last six months…her style, as ever, was excellent. She had had a small change in looks due to the bonding with Hermione, but other than that, she retained her expensive taste. And this was her first complete death-eater meeting since she was twelve and had been introduced to the deatheaters after Voldemort returned.

She wasn't twelve anymore, and it would be a good idea to make that abundantly clear.

On that note, she chose a just-below-knee-length skirt made of cream silk covered in black lace. It had a small net underskirt to make it that little bit fuller. Then she chose a tafetta black busier top with wide straps and a pleated neckline with a dark red ribbon around the top of the bodice, across the top of her breasts. She slid her feet into four inch stiletto heels. The shoes were red silk-satin that was pleated around the top edge of the shoe and fixed with a black velvet ribbon that tied on the round toe. Around the pleated red silk was pleated black lace, dark against the top of her pale feet.

Standing before the mirror, Amelie ran her hands through her hair, darkening it to espresso brown, and shortening it by about seven inches, so it didn't even reach the top of her spine at the back and was three inches short of her shoulders in the front. She flicked it out a little to make it a little more styled, before applying mostly natural makeup, with dark red lipstick and a dark mascara around her now-hazel eyes.

She slid the Gryffindor ring off her left thumb, but left the Slytherin ring on her right thumb. On her left forefinger she put a gold ring sporting a huge rectangular clear amethyst that covered the greater part of her first two fingers. She painted her nails dark red, pulled a black cloak around her, then went out into the common room.

Her original plan had been to walk right out without a word to anyone but Snape, but Draco sat up on the couch, watching her door. When she walked out, his eyes widened and he rose, but he said nothing.

"I'll tell her for you." Amelie said quietly, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"Why cant I talk to her?" He asked, a little peevishly.

"Because I've locked her in a mental box." Amelie said. "Even I cant talk to her right now. It is incredibly important that she does not distract me in any way, shape or form. And it will be better for her if she does not remember what happens tonight. She has nightmares enough as it is."

Draco nodded once, then kissed Amelie on the cheek.

"Good luck."

"I thought you didn't believe in luck." Amelie replied with a smile.

"It's amazing how times change." Draco said with a shrug. The portrait swung open silently, and Snape walked in. He looked at Amelie and nodded.

"Excellent, my lady." He said formally with a small bow. "We are ready then?" Amelie nodded sharply.

"We're ready."

&