A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! Huge thanks to lanamarymack and Angela 007 for alpha/beta reading this chapter. You can follow me over on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.

Please let me know what you thought about chapter eleven and be on the lookout for chapter twelve soon!

The small bit of mead she'd consumed in their circle had made Hermione's head fizz pleasantly, but the horn that she drank on her own, no matter how slowly, made her body feel like it had been filled with treacle. She was warm and flushed and wanted to do nothing more than to lounge in the dying sunlight.

The wizards were buzzing around the small clearing like a bunch of busy little honey bees, collecting freshly cut wheat. She had done enough reading on traditional Lughnasadh rituals to know that they were beginning to build an effigy that would be sacrificed at the evening bonfire.

"Enjoying yourself?" Tom asked, with a smirk, seeing the lazy way she was lounging in the chair they'd provided to the goddess. "Lording over us mere mortals?"

She gave him a small smile. "I don't think your friends would very much like to hear it described that way," she said. "I don't think that they like me very much."

He took a step closer to her, so that he could whisper into her ear. "They just haven't realized how brilliant you are yet. But they will see, the more you are around." His breath was hot against the side of her face, making a shiver race down her spine. It did not go unnoticed.

"Oh?" she asked, her voice catching in her throat. "Are you planning to keep me, then?"

"I can't get rid of you yet," he teased. "Not while I find you so interesting."

She swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say. Already, her heart was pounding against her chest as she thought about what that could mean. She was secretly pleased that Tom was so taken with her, but she didn't like the suggestion that he would simply toss her aside. "I will endeavor to remain interesting, then," she answered, feeling flushed.

"This is a conversation best kept between us," he said, standing upright again and looking at his friends. Abraxas was trying his best not to be obvious, but the slight tilt of his head seemed to suggest that he was listening in on their discussion. "Come, we can go gather some water for the Potion of Plenty."

Hermione stood from her throne and trailed after him down a narrow path around the hill. On the other side, she could just make out the crown of a huge oak tree. Walking alongside the tall wizard, she was struck by how much she'd missed talking with him one on one and told him as much.

"I'm glad to get a bit of alone time with you," she said with a sigh.

"Don't you like speaking with my friends?" he asked, though she could see from the way he stood a bit taller that he was quite pleased with her admission.

"It's not that they haven't been mostly pleasant - they have," she told him honestly. "But I get the feeling that they see me as a small child who needs to be placated and spoken to like I don't understand all the big words adults use."

Tom snorted at her phrasing. "I can promise you that none of them see you as a child in that dress," he answered, making no secret the way that his eyes drank in her curves.

Hermione felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, but she fought it off.

"I think you've made quite an impression on them already," he added, this time sounding honest and not flirtatious.

"Even though I'm muggleborn," she said, a bit of nerves turning in her stomach at speaking into existence the unspoken tension that had been in the clearing the moment that she'd side-alonged with Tom. "I know some of them are very committed to keeping magic among purebloods. And I get the impression that you might share those commitments."

It was bold of her to suggest something like that, when she was all alone with him out here, but she couldn't let the unknown fester under the surface for so long.

"It's more complicated than that. You are a powerful witch, Hermione, and it has nothing to do with you being a muggleborn. If there is something I respect above everything else, it's power," he explained, somewhat skirting around the issue. "Once they see that you respect magic and their customs, they will understand."

His praise made her simultaneously preen and twist with discomfort. Hermione was glad to hear that, but at the same time she didn't want to be merely the exception to the rule. She didn't see why relations between purebloods and everyone else couldn't be improved in a way that made everyone happy. But, she didn't want to go further down that topic at the moment, knowing that no one would be receptive to it at the present time.

Eager to get the conversation off of her, she asked about the rituals over the rest of the day. "So, who is the effigy going to be of?" she wondered, having noted that it seemed limited to a single individual.

"Barnacles Gamp," Tom said reflexively.

"The Minority Leader in the Wizengamot?" Hermione asked, surprised. "Aren't you guys sort of...on the same side?"

Hermione wasn't entirely sure but she knew that Malfoy and Lestrange at least were members of the minority party, mostly made up of purebloods. If they were making an effigy of their own leader, well...she couldn't even begin to understand what was going on.

"Yes, he is," he agreed. "But certain members of the party believe that he has outlived his usefulness. We tend to think that it's time for change."

"Certain members?" she queried, eager to hear more about any infighting.

"Abraxas fancies himself as the Chief Warlock," Tom answered, looking amused. "So, nothing, not even Barnacles will stand in his way. He is, above all else, ambitious."

She was surprised to hear that. She had barely interacted with Abraxas all day. While he wasn't outwardly hostile to her, she could tell that he didn't like her one bit. She just wasn't sure if that merely had to do with her being a muggleborn or if he simply didn't like her being with Tom. Neither option was good for her.

"So, is the effigy merely ceremonial or is there another component to it?" she wondered. So far, the games had been decidedly tame. She wasn't entirely sure why it would be outlawed in the first place when it was so harmless. "Perhaps some old magic this time?"

"That depends on Abraxas," he said, unsure himself. "We will have to see what he is willing to sacrifice."

"It won't...it won't kill Gamp, right?" she asked, suddenly nervous. Her earlier discussion with Alfie about hurting people came rushing back when she realized that maybe he hadn't been just trying to make her uncomfortable.

"No, nothing like that," he said, brushing off her concerns. "Nothing serious. Probably just a hex or a curse," he added, as if cursing your political rivals was so trivial that he did it all the time. He turned to face her, pressing a hand to her shoulder. He looked deeply into her eyes, reading every microexpression for a hint of treason. "You aren't going to do anything about this, right? I don't think I have to explain to you that the rituals of Lughansdah are meant to remain secret."

Hermione's eyes widened at the thinly veiled threat and she shook her head. No matter how interesting she was to Tom, she got the impression that he wouldn't take a betrayal, even a small one, lightly. "I won't say anything," she promised, wondering why she was agreeing to such a thing. Really, that wasn't so bad was it? And if they just wanted to hamstring their own political agenda by hexing their leader, well, she wasn't going to make a stink about it.

"What would you do, if you were Abraxas?" he asked, off hand.

"Hm, if I were Abraxas," Hermione repeated, thinking about the ambitions the blond man apparently had. "Well, I was just reading about a modified faltering hex that makes you stumble over your words. How good could a minority leader be if they can't give floor speeches? If he wanted something a bit more devious, well there is always Lavoisier's Floundering Curse. All his motions would likely fail to pass, though, so I don't know if that's very politically savvy."

Tom laughed at her suggestions. "I think that you should suggest that to him," he encouraged her. "I think he'd be pleased to hear what you've come up with."

Before they could speak more about curses, they had arrived at the well under the oak tree. Tom reached for the rope that brought up the well's bucket. She found herself wishing that he would have rolled up his sleeves so that she could watch the way that his muscles worked while he was pulling. It was so unusual to watch wizards do anything the mechanical way when they could just use their wands.

Biting her lower lip, she couldn't help herself from asking him more questions. She was pleased that so far, Tom did not seem annoyed with her enthusiasm for learning. "Are we really going to make the Potion of Plenty?" she asked, eager. She had read about it a lot, but had not attempted to brew it before, seeing as it was known to be a dark potion. It was a bit unfair, she thought.

"Yes," Tom agreed. "We will all share it before the feast and hopefully enjoy another year of plenty in our lives."

With the water gathered, they made the walk back together side by side, talking about various potions making methods and the slightly unorthodox ingredients in the Potion of Plenty. Hermione tended to agree with Tom that grindylow scales should not be as tightly controlled as they were.

When they arrived back in the clearing, the others were putting the finishing touches on the effigy of Barnacles Gamp, wearing the man's distinctive robes. A small group broke away once Tom let them know he'd gotten the water so that they could begin to brew the potion.

"Could I help?" Hermione asked, shyly. "I could chop the murtlap tentacle."

Nott and Dolohov looked relieved at her offer, as murtlap was generally not very pleasant to handle. Tom prepared the old pewter cauldron that had looked like it had seen better days, before lighting the fire underneath it and adding the well water.

They worked together, well practiced, and slowly the potion came together. While they worked side by side, Abraxas worked on his hex for the effigy.

"Hermione, which curse did you think would be a devious option for Abraxas to use?" Tom asked, off-handedly.

She knew that he had not actually forgotten and was just giving her a chance to show off her knowledge of dark magic, something that was certain to impress this group. "Lavoisier's Floundering Curse," she said, a bit meekly.

"Huh," Alfie said, fighting his own grin, obviously impressed with her knowledge of the arcane. "That's a unique curse. I doubt that old Gamp would even know what hit him. Where did you learn that one?"

"I have a book of eighteenth century French potioneers," Hermione answered, feeling a bit embarrassed. "It mentioned his creation of the curse off-hand."

"Well, I think it's a marvelous idea," Alfie spoke, loud enough to grab Abraxas's attention. "Certainly much better than whatever Brax would have come up with."

Not wanting to make more of an enemy of Abraxas, Hermione immediately protested. "I actually don't think it's such a good idea," she said, giving the Malfoy heir a sorry look. "He might end up tanking all legislation the minority party puts up."

"Then maybe you should think through all the implications of your suggestions before you make them," Abraxas sneered at her. "It's no good getting Alfie's hopes up."

It was not much longer that the potion was complete, Rosier ladling it into a citrine chalice, the same color as the circlet Hermione still wore. He shuffled all the assembled over to the long table that had been set up sometime between their return from the well and was now brimming with food. There was a cornish game hen on a bed of roast potatoes and root vegetables on every plate and the middle had more of everything. It was so much more than the group could ever hope to eat. Not to mention the bowls of perfect fruit - plums, apples and bilberries - apparently picked from Rosier's orchard. The mead was now put away, but replaced with glasses of red wine, the colour of blood.

Hermione followed close behind Tom, who sat at the head of the table, and sat in a seat next to him. This seemed to cause a bit of confusion and she got the impression that she might be sitting in someone else's usual seat. Biting her lip, she felt her nerves leave her when Tom gave her knee a squeeze under the table.

Evan sat at the other head of the table and held the chalice up, before saying a short blessing for plenty in the coming year, making reference to the fact that they were all brimming with potential, and how now was the time to capitalize on that.

He took a large gulp of the potion then and Hermione held her breath, perhaps expecting something to happen. Instead, Rosier just passed the chalice on to the next wizard in line. Round and round the table it went, until it ended up in her hands. Hermione took a deep breath when she pressed the chalice to her lips, nearly on the verge of nervous giggles when she realized she was really going to do this. Yes, several of the ingredients in this potion were restricted for personal use, but she felt completely drawn into this ritual. She'd helped to make the Potion of Plenty and now she wanted to share in the fruits.

The potion was surprisingly bitter, but she drank it down without making a face, before passing it on to Tom. While nothing noticeable happened on the outside, she could feel the magic at work inside her. She wondered if this is what it felt like to take Felix Felicis.

Once everyone had taken a drink from the cup, the feasting began. Hermione hadn't realized how long it had been since she'd gone without eating, but she found herself suddenly ravenous. When she first sat down, she didn't think she could possibly finish her own bird, but it was only a matter of time before her plate was clean, save the carcass. She'd been too distracted by bawdy stories, laughs, and free-flowing wine to notice how easily the food went down.

The sun began it's final descent, the great sliver of gold disappearing behind the edge of the hill. Abraxas made a furious noise when he realized how much time had passed without his notice. "Fuck! The bonfire!" he said, pushing up from the table, knocking his chair behind him in his haste to light the effigy.

It took him a few tries, obviously a bit drunk himself, before he got the thing alight. The rest of the wizards tittered and laughed at his trouble. Hermione laughed as well. She knew it wasn't right to laugh at him, but she just couldn't help herself. She felt well on her way to being drunk, if she was honest.

Slowly, the wizards trickled away from the table to join Abraxas around the bonfire, singing songs and laughing. Soon, Tom was the only one left at the table with her.

"Shall we go and join the others?" she asked, rather pleased that she hadn't slurred her words.

The fire blazed brightly behind him, giving Tom an eerie sort of look. His eyes dropped to her lips before snapping back up to her eyes once more. "Actually, there is one other ritual I thought you might like to try," he suggested. "The rite of the first fruits."

Hermione felt her breathing quicken at the gravelly way he sounded, but found herself nodding along. "I'd love to try it," she said, her voice dropping half an octave in anticipation.

"Luckily, you don't have to do much of anything," he said, reaching towards the center of the table to grab a ripe plum, its skin glossy and purple. Then, he used his wand to dissect out a perfect section of the flesh. "Except for enjoy the first fruit of the season."

Hermione watched his long fingers at work, raising the piece of plum until it was just at her lips. Her heart beat even faster when she realized he meant to feed it to her. Opening her mouth, he pressed the plum against her lips. She closed her lips around it, his thumb catching on her lower lip for half a second. She chewed the fruit gingerly, an odd sort of warmth filling her body. How could such a simple act feel so sensual, she wondered?

She realized that she was leaning in towards her dark-haired wizard, sitting on the edge of her seat in an attempt to get closer to him. His blue eyes were so dark that they almost seemed black, from desire or some other unnamed emotion she wasn't sure. All she knew was that she wanted more from him.

Fortunately, Tom was only too willing to oblige. The same hand that had fed her cupped her cheek, turning her face up to look at him, holding her exactly how he wanted her to be.

Hermione stared at his mouth, wishing that he would press his lips against hers, a desire that had only grown more persistent since she'd gone on the date with him. "Tom," she breathed out, feeling like she just might burst if he didn't do something.

He moved slowly, leaning into her, until he could wait no longer and surged forward, their lips meeting. Her bottom lip seemed to fit perfectly between his. Tongue darting out, he sought to part the seam of her lips so that their tongues could meet, a tangle of need and lust.

She moaned into him, pressing herself against him, until she was more on his lap than in her chair. One arm wrapped around his broad shoulders while the other tangled in his hair, completely unwilling to be parted from him. His kiss was like fire and she felt like she was burning up in it.

The intensity should have frightened her, but instead, it only fed her desire, making her want him more and more. Her body felt heavy, that sticky treacle feeling resuming in full force. She squeezed her legs together, hoping to do something for the dull ache that pulsed every time Tom's tongue twisted around hers.

A hoot and a whistle from the wizards around the bonfire once they had been discovered made Hermione break away from his kiss, her cheeks hot and red. Of course, this was not the sort of place to snog someone, not when there were so many people around. She certainly didn't want an audience.

"Don't let them bother you," he said, his voice dark and inviting as he pressed his forehead against hers.

"I-I won't," she said, stumbling over her words, knowing that she had to appear confident amongst this group. "But maybe we could continue this at another time? When we are alone?"

He gave her a crooked smile, before helping her to stand. Wrapping her arm around her waist, he held her close to his side while they walked to join the others. "I can't wait," he promised.

They stayed out until the effigy had been reduced to ashes. With the fire out and no longer providing any warmth, Hermione realized how cold she suddenly was. Not to mention so tired that she could hardly stop from swaying. With the day done and dusted, Hermione and Tom thanked Evan for hosting before apparating back to her flat.

Perhaps realizing she was too exhausted to stay awake for another minute, Tom sent her off to bed with a rather chaste kiss and a promise to see her again soon.