Chapter 6

Hermione spent the weekend with her parents settling in back home and getting caught up with them, but she was at Malfoy Manor bright and early Monday morning. It was ostensibly to start her summer lessons, though she had a suspicion that her scolding over the incident with the philosopher's stone, as she'd taken to calling it in her head, wasn't finished and that she'd spend much of her day talking to Narcissa. However, it was Draco who met her when she exited the floo. Not that she was unhappy to see him, but she was stunned that he was waiting on her, and given that there appeared to be no spell keeping him in the room, that he was doing so voluntarily.

"Would you like to see something?" he asked anxiously, an uncharacteristically open grin on his face, like he hadn't just spent the last two weeks ignoring her existence.

Well, she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, she wanted her friend back.

"I would, but I'm supposed to meet your mother," she said with some disappointment, she longed to see whatever it was that made him so happy.

"She's out right now, she told me to see that you were entertained until she came back."

Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that she'd been set up. She didn't mind, she was glad for an opportunity to make things right with Draco, she just reminded herself that she had to pay attention around all these devious Slytherins.

He led her through the halls until they reached what she remembered to be his suite, and then on through to his bedroom. She spotted the black lump on his bed almost immediately upon crossing the threshold, because it moved. He walked over and perched on the edge of the bed.

"Meet Nox," he said as she approached.

The lump moved again, unfurling and stretching to reveal itself as the most beautiful kitten Hermione had ever seen. She had unusual blue eyes, huge ears, and while she was completely black, Hermione could see an underlying pattern in her fur that became visible when the sun reflected on it. She sauntered over to greet the new human and even in the awkwardness of youth she exuded grace that indicated she would grow into a truly elegant cat.

"She's gorgeous, Draco!" Hermione exclaimed, more pleased than she cared to admit when the kitten let her scoop her up into her arms without protest, "I like her name, very clever," she complimented.

Draco studied her with undisguised curiosity.

"What?" she asked.

"She let you pick her up."

"So? She's sweet," Hermione cooed.

"She hasn't let anyone touch her but me, even Mother, much less hold her."

"Oh," she turned to address Nox who was cradled comfortably against her, batting at the finger she was waving in front of her face, "picky one are you? You're well suited to your master then," she shot a sidelong glance in Draco's direction, he was scowling at her, but there was no malice in it, "I'm honored that you like me," she finished sincerely.

Hermione continued to play with the cat in silence for a few minutes before letting her jump back onto the bed and sitting down next to her.

"When did you get her?" she asked.

"Mother and Father got her for me for my birthday, but she couldn't join me at Hogwarts. The breeder brought her whole litter here over the weekend, Nox chose me right away, she's a half-kneazle, they're very intelligent," he explained proudly.

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the way he puffed up his chest.

"Will she stay here during term? We're only allowed one pet," she knew Draco had an owl he was quite fond of and used far too often to keep at the Manor.

"That only applies to First Years. After that you can have more than one, but only one can stay in the dorm with you."

That actually made sense, it allowed older students to keep owls for correspondence purposes even if they had a familiar who was another species.

"Oh, well I'm glad she's coming to Hogwarts."

"I had a cat when I was younger," he said wistfully, "I wanted one last year but then I wouldn't have had access to an owl."

"Merlin forbid you use a school owl," she teased gently.

He sniffed disdainfully.

"I'd think you of all people would know that they are often unavailable, and they are far less reliable than personal owls."

She was sure both Draco and his parents would consider it nothing short of a crime if their letters weren't transported reliably. It was pretentious, but the underlying reason was also kind of nice; the family was very close, Draco was missed at home, and she knew it would be a real hardship for them all not to be able to write whenever they wanted. There was a long awkward pause and Hermione knew the reprieve the kitten's presence had granted her was over. She readjusted her position on the bed and looked at him steadily.

"I'm really sorry Draco."

He sniffed disdainfully.

"For what exactly?" he demanded.

She sighed, but it's not like she had expected him to make this easy, and deep down she thought she probably deserved to do a little groveling.

"For going along with Harry and Ron and doing something dangerous, at the time I thought I didn't have any other choice, but now I see how stupid that was. And for not thinking about your feelings. I know it probably seemed like I don't care what you think, but that's not true, I care about that more than anything. And, even though I didn't have any control over it, I'm sorry that we got all those house points and took the cup from Slytherin, that was really unfair," she rattled off her apologies, making sure she covered it all.

"What's so great about Potter and Weasley anyway? I don't know why you're even friends with them," he asked, voice cutting.

"Well they did save me from that troll," she argued automatically.

He snorted.

"You were only in danger in the first place because of Weasley," he said sardonically.

He'd been so upset when she'd told him that story she hadn't had the heart to point out that he'd said his fair share of insulting things to her before they'd been friends too. She didn't think now was the time to bring it up either. So, she just reconsidered his question instead.

Truth be told, she was friends with Harry and Ron because they were willing to be friends with her, and she'd had too few of those in her life to take them for granted. They were nice boys most of the time, and they needed her, even if if was only for homework help or research, and that felt good. Of Harry especially she felt protective, and she wanted to be there for him. She wasn't blind, she knew he didn't have a great home life, and she knew he hated his fame in the magical world; once she'd thought about it, it must have been particularly terrible to be a celebrity for surviving your parents' murders. He needed people around him who saw him as just 'Harry' as opposed to the Boy-who-lived, and she was proud to be one of those few people. When it came down to it she liked them both, and she didn't want to lose them even if they could drive her mad. But neither relationship could compare to her friendship with Draco.

I had happened so quickly she almost hadn't noticed it, but despite the fact that she got to spend far less time with him than she did her Gryffindor friends, Draco had become her best friend. She'd only acknowledged that after she'd blurted it out to Narcissa. Obviously they'd started out terribly, that had been inevitable given their house loyalties and the views about blood purity he'd arrived at Hogwarts believing. But once Narcissa had nudged them towards friendship they'd become close rather quickly. He was her confidant and she his. He was the only one with whom she felt safe showing weakness. The only person she didn't have to be constantly proving herself to. She could lean on him. It was a much more equal relationship, they took care of each other.

And as she considered this she realized what she'd truly done that night she'd followed Harry and Ron into that third floor corridor. She'd been afraid of being left out, that their friendship wasn't strong enough to survive her standing up to them. So, she'd just gone along with them and taken for granted that Draco would forgive her. He'd been the better friend and she'd taken advantage of that fact. He felt rightfully betrayed.

"I am so sorry," she gasped, surging up onto her knees and then forward to wrap her arms around him.

He didn't respond at first but then, for the first time, he hesitantly raised his own arms and put them around her waist. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and he sighed.

"After the dragon I thought you understood," he murmured.

"I know, I just forgot for a moment, but I promise I won't put myself in danger like that again."

"A professor died Hermione! Everybody knew it was you and your two idiot friends involved, but there was nothing but rumors going around about who had been hurt and what really happened, then you didn't even go down to the Great Hall for almost a whole day! I didn't know what to think!"

"I'm sorry, I really am. Would you like me to tell you the whole story? I'm sure it's not half as bad as what you heard…"

He slowly pulled away from her and nodded. She took his hand as they sat side by side on the bed and Nox stretched out across their laps as she began to speak. An hour later she finished talking, and he was clutching her hand so tightly he was restricting circulation.

"You stupid Gryffindors!" he hissed, "that's even worse than I thought, what is wrong with you?!

She looked away, shamefaced, and there was a long silence. Finally he sighed.

"Want to take a walk?" he asked suddenly, "you've seen very little of the grounds," he gave her an uncomfortable smile.

Suddenly she was glad that twelve year old boys were so bad with emotions. He had obviously decided he was just going to push past this like it hadn't happened and she would gladly let him.

"Sure!" she said with false brightness.

She was pleased that when they got up to leave Nox lept off the bed, wound her way between their legs and led them out of the room, clearly intending to join in on their walk. He led her through the walled gardens which were immediately outside the Manor, and then past the lake. He promised to show her the farm another time, today he wanted her to see the stables. His enthusiasm was no longer false, he was clearly thrilled to be showing off his home.

"You have a farm?" she'd asked incredulously.

"Of course," he'd answered proudly, "this is a self-sustaining estate, that's how we can support so many elves."

She again felt the depths to which she was in over her head amongst the Malfoys, but he hadn't seemed to notice, pulling her along excitedly via their joined hands. They arrived at the stables, dwarfed only by the size of the manor house they'd just departed.

The inside could have rivaled the luxury of any high end hotel, and it certainly smelled nothing like a barn. It was lined with a series of spacious stalls along each wall.

"The Abraxans are on this end," Draco explained, "my family is renowned for raising them."

She peeked into the stalls as he continued to drag her along to see enormous but utterly beautiful winged horses inside. Some of them stuck their noses out, interested in the humans' presence, some of them seemed particularly interested to see Draco but he was in a mission and ignored them. Until he suddenly stopped short in front of one, seemingly random stall.

"This is Azazel, he's mine," he grinned excitedly at her, she was truly seeing a different side of him today than she'd ever seen before, he was never this uninhibited at Hogwarts.

"Yours?" she questioned, as a curious nose poked out from the stall, she looked inside to see an Abraxan, still clearly very young though already a head taller than Draco, peering back at them.

He harrumphed, and snuffled in Draco's direction who chuckled and reached out to pat him affectionately.

"Yes, mine, it's a tradition in my family to be given a foal the year we receive our Hogwarts letter. I learned to ride on some of the older mares, but he's the first to really be meant for me."

Hermione examined the horse carefully. He was beautiful, like the rest of them, but he was more of a light gold color with black-tipped wings, and if his comrades were any indication his color would darken as he aged.

"He's beautiful Draco, you have such beautiful animals," she said, eyeing Nox who had deftly scaled the walls of the stall to sit on top of the door and was batting her head playfully against Azazel's nose; the Abraxan seemed amused and was being very gentle with the kitten.

At that moment the doors to the stable opened and the elder Malfoys strode in, looking every inch the Lord and Lady of the manor that they were, even as they were both dressed as casually as Hermione had ever seen them.

"Hello Dears!" Narcissa greeted cheerfully.

"How did they know we were here. It must have taken them ages to find us," she hissed in Draco's direction, thinking how large the estate was and knowing there was even more she hadn't seen.

"The elves, they can always find their family," he answered with a smirk, but then a brief frown flashed across his face, "though I don't know why they didn't just send an elf to fetch us if we're needed."

"I see Draco has shown you our famous Abraxans," Narcissa continued as they approached, her husband silent and proud at her side.

"Yes ma'am," she answered politely, "they are beautiful, everything is so beautiful."

"You are such a sweet girl," Narcissa beamed, "do you ride?"

"Once, a pony at a birthday party when I was little, but nothing like this," Hermione gestured around her.

Narcissa laughed lightly.

"I suppose we couldn't have expected you to encounter many magical breeds of horses in the muggle world, but would you like to learn?" she persisted.

On one hand she was utterly intimidated, these creatures were enormous, powerful looking, and almost devastatingly beautiful. And then, of course, was the fact that they were clearly capable of flight which was an entirely new thing to fear. But she'd seen Draco's face light up when he spoke of riding, when he introduced her to Azazel, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to be able to share that with him.

"Yes, please," she said quietly.

"Of course," Narcissa responded, as if it was no consequence, "but for now, if the two of you would join us in your father's study, there's something we would like to discuss with you."

Hermione nodded but when she glanced at Draco he had a look of concern on his face. They followed the adults out of the stable after giving Azazel some parting pats.

"What?" she questioned.

He shrugged.

"Usually being called to the Lord's study is serious business."

Hermione worried her lip, was she in trouble with Lord Malfoy now? But why would Draco be involved? He hadn't done anything.

They reached the house much more quickly than seemed possible to Hermione, and the Malfoys led her to a part of it she'd never been in before. They entered a room that was alternately cozy and imposing, a large desk dominated one side, a sitting area the other. Narcissa extracted her wand from her robes and with an almost lazy flick transfigured two armchairs into one settee. She gestured for the children to take a seat on it while she and Mr. Malfoy took the larger sofa which faced them.

Mr. Malfoy had removed his outer robes before he sat and now, without saying anything, began to purposefully roll up his left sleeve. Hermione watched, sensing something important was happening. She couldn't miss the way Draco shifted uncomfortably beside her which was disconcerting, because for a twelve year old boy he was very self-contained and generally didn't fidget, and then there was the growing tension in the air. She moved closer to Draco. When the skin of his forearm was fully exposed Mr. Malfoy extended it in their direction and it was all Hermione could do not to gasp out loud. There, marring his otherwise perfectly smooth flesh was something that looked part scar, part brand, and part tattoo. It formed the bizarre image of a snake slithering out of the mouth of a skull. A sickly gray color, it managed to appear both swollen and sunken into his flesh.

"Does that hurt?" she blurted.

Mortified, her eyes snapped to his face, but instead of the censure she expected to see there, his features actually softened.

"No," he said simply, "it did at one time, but not for many years."

She felt Draco take her hand.

"I do not believe that Miss Granger," he paused, "Hermione," he corrected himself, and though the syllables of her first name sounded odd and stilted rolling off of his tongue, she appreciated the effort at familiarity, thus far he'd done everything possible to keep her at arm's length, "would have any means of identifying this, but Draco, do you know what it is?"

"The Dark Mark," he answered immediately in a low hoarse voice that held little resemblance to his usual smooth tone.

"Your grandfather?" Mr. Malfoy questioned.

Draco just nodded.

"I'm sorry son, I should have been the one to tell you about this," he responded, sounding more contrite and humble than Hermione would have ever been able to imagine him being.

Draco shrugged, not looking at his father.

"It's okay, all he told me was that it was the mark of the Dark Lord and that it was a great honor."

"Voldemort!" Hermione gasped.

Everyone in the room flinched, but Mr. Malfoy turned to look at her calmly.

"I understand your concern Hermione, I only ask that you hear me out before you judge me too harshly."

She snuck a peak at Narcissa who was giving her a reassuring smile, but there was also a hint of a plea in her eyes that Hermione couldn't ignore. So, she just nodded slowly and allowed Mr. Malfoy to continue. He turned back to his son.

"There was a time when I too considered this mark to be an honor, it took your mother to help me see if for what it really is, a brand of enslavement."

He took a deep breath and Narcissa reached over to carefully roll his sleeve back down, covering the ugly mark, and then lovingly took his hand in both of hers. He looked at her so tenderly that for the first time Hermione saw a glimpse of the man that Narcissa so clearly adored. She felt a little like she was intruding and she glanced at Draco for direction, but he seemed completely unsurprised, if a little unsettled by the situation as a whole.

"When I was a young man," Mr. Malfoy began, "only a few years older than the two of you are now, my father introduced me to a friend of his with whom he had attended Hogwarts. I would learn later that he was once known as Tom Riddle, but by the time I met him he had long since been calling himself Lord Voldemort," he stumbled a little over the name, "his supporters, my father and others, referred to him as the Dark Lord. He was a charming man, he made me feel welcome, and I understood almost immediately why my father was willing to look to him as the leader of their group, despite the fact that they were contemporaries and my father and many others were from ancient and titled families and the Dark Lord was a half-blood with a muggle name."

"A half-blood, with a muggle father!" Draco interrupted with a cry, sounding absolutely appalled.

Hermione ripped her hand out of his as she whipped her head around to glare at him. His eyes went wide.

"Not that there's anything wrong with having muggle parents," he hastened to add, though Hermione wasn't sure she believed him, she was pretty sure she was still very much the exception to that rule in his eyes, "it's just that he's the Dark Lord, everybody knows that he…" he trailed off and looked to his parents for assistance.

"Yes Draco, a half-blood," Mr. Malfoy said firmly, "that was why he changed his name, so that the public would never know and so that he would seem mysterious, it was all part of his campaign of misinformation and terror. He hid who he really was and what he really wanted behind pretty words and flattery and he was brilliant at it. We all lined up to give him our allegiance, and our influence, and our money; we felt privileged to do so. In exchange he promised us power, that our families would be raised to new heights in our society; he said he would bring back the old ways, and protect our world from muggles."

"Why would you need protection from muggles?" Hermione wondered.

Mr. Malfoy exchanged a look with his wife.

"Do you know why Salazar Slytherin argued against allowing muggleborns into Hogwarts, Hermione?"

"He was afraid they would tell people about magic and expose our world," she rattled off 'Hogwarts: A History's' standard explanation, but then hastened to add, "but that was a thousand years ago when people were much more likely to believe in magic, if I or my parents tried to tell your average muggle that I was a witch they would never believe us, they might even think we were insane, we would never say anything."

Mr. Malfoy nodded.

"The problem has evolved, I'll give you that, but it has not disappeared. In the millennium since Hogwarts was founded it is my understanding that the muggle population has exploded, whereas ours has remained largely stagnant. We cannot risk our secret getting out, even if the risk is less than it once was, the danger if it did is now much greater, because based on sheer numbers we could never defend ourselves against them. It is more vital than ever that our societies remain separated."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his hand to stop her.

"I no longer think the solution to this problem is to exclude muggleborns completely, I now understand you are necessary to maintaining our population, but at the time it was a scare tactic he used to manipulate us to great effect."

She thought about this and nodded, most purebloods were so ignorant of the muggle world she supposed it would be easy to do.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to interrupt."

He wave off her apology.

"I believe he began marking his followers a few years before I met him, I know my father did not bear the mark my entire life. What I do know is that it was not difficult to convince any of us to take it, he easily persuaded us into believing it was a mark of brotherhood, and one that only the elite would be allowed to wear. It was a brotherhood of which he was clearly the leader, of course, but a society of equals nonetheless. Something akin to King Arthur and his knights of the round table, and we were all so honored to have a seat at that table. I don't know how it escaped us that he didn't have a mark himself, that he used it to call us to him and to see to his every whim, that we had become little more than servants. I myself was marked right after I left Hogwarts, it was excruciating, but I was happy to take the pain, I bore it with pride, it made me feel like I was earning the honor being bestowed on me."

He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if in pain.

"He began calling us his Death Eaters, I should have realized then that he didn't care about us, he didn't care about the old ways, about resurrecting our traditions and the ancient magicks. He only wanted to cause mayhem and seize power for himself in the ensuing chaos, but it was never enough."

He looked at Draco.

"As I said, it was your mother who helped me realize it, shortly after we were married and she met the Dark Lord, she saw what I could not. That the Lord I had so revered and admired was a monster who was quickly losing his mind even as he grew more powerful. That this brotherhood I had so longed to be a part of was nothing more than a group of slaves and their master; we no longer even had true free will, we were just catering to his desires because we were irrevocably tied to him through these marks we had been so proud of, and sometimes performing disgusting acts in the process with the mere hope that if we pleased him we would at least escape punishment for ourselves and our families. And in the end he was targeting children the same age as our Draco, it was a time of great shame. I never want to be again, what this mark represents," he rubbed at his sleeve absentmindedly with his free hand.

He seemed almost to have forgotten that they were in the room, his white knuckles a testament to the fact that he was clinging to his wife for the strength to put voice to these words. And in that moment he finally became human to Hermione. There was a long heavy silence. She felt Draco shift next to her, more uncomfortable than ever, and realized he'd once again taken her hand. She squeezed his, hoping to provide some comfort, she couldn't imagine how difficult it must be to hear this from the father he so admired. Finally, Mr. Malfoy spoke again.

"I do not tell you this to try and excuse my actions, for that is not possible, but merely to explain them. I did not intend to ally myself and our family with a monster. And ironically, the thing I did to preserve our future is the thing putting it most at risk and I will never be able to express how much I regret that."

There was another long silence.

"You're telling us this now because Hermione told Mother he was inside Hogwarts this year, aren't you?" Draco finally asked.

"Yes, because Hermione recently brought it to our attention that the Dark Lord isn't actually dead, your mother and I discussed it and we believed it was imperative that you know my history so that you can understand the danger he presents and properly prepare yourselves."

She glanced at Draco, he looked as terrified as she felt, the reality of Voldemort's continued existence finally starting to sink in. Narcissa reached across the space between them, giving Hermione a gentle smile and placing a hand on her son's knee.

"It will be okay, my dragon, we will face this together, as a family, that is why we wanted to have this talk."

Draco relaxed slightly at his mother's reassurance, Hermione felt herself relax as well.

"What comes next?" Hermione wondered quietly, she'd been wondering about the true purpose for this conversation for awhile now, and could hold back no longer.

"There are some steps we think need to be taken to make sure the two of you stay safe," said Narcissa.

"You think he'll be able to come back, like how he was before?" Draco asked.

"It is a possibility," answered Narcissa.

Hermione automatically cut her eyes to meet Draco's and she knew immediately that he was thinking the same thing that she was: they weren't being told the whole truth.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"We will be taking several precautions," Mr. Malfoy took over from his wife, "the first of which is that the two of you cannot publicly be friends, it would be far too dangerous for you both if the Scion of a House loyal to the Dark Lord was known to be associated with a muggleborn."

Draco shrugged, and while Hermione wanted to be insulted, she knew deep down that she probably wasn't brave enough to openly be friends with a Slytherin, and an Malfoy to boot anyway, it would almost certainly make her a pariah within her own house.

"Second," Narcissa took over effortlessly from her husband, "we would like to begin training the two of you in defense and in occlumency, you need to be capable of defending yourselves physically as well as your minds."

They nodded in tandem, Hermione would never turn down a learning opportunity, and she could only imagine that Draco was chomping at the bit to be taught to fight.

"Lastly," she said, looking at them, holding each of their gazes very seriously for a few moments, "we need a promise from the both of you that you will alert us immediately if you see anything that troubles you. No more keeping things to yourself, trying to handle things on your own. Anything that makes you feel the least bit uncomfortable, you tell us immediately."

She sat back and Mr. Malfoy raised an arm to wrap around her shoulders, it did not soften the image the two of them presented, they looked like a couple to be reckoned with and who completely expected their wishes to be obeyed. Hermione knew that she had a lot to process, she was overwhelmed and scared but beyond anything else she felt protected within the bosom of this powerful family.

"Yes ma'am," she agreed almost immediately.

"I understand Mother," Draco said at nearly the same time.

"Well!" said Narcissa, too brightly to be believed, both adults looked utterly drained, "we've talked through our usual lunch hour but why don't you and Hermione take a late meal up in your suite, Draco. Relax for the rest of the day and we'll start lessons tomorrow."

Hermione knew a dismissal when she heard one, and so did Draco because he hopped up and without another word pulled them out of the room with their still-joined hands. Once upstairs the elves served them more food than they could possibly eat. After the fourth separate elf popped in to check in on them Hermione realized that between the sumptuousness of the food, and the way they were being absolutely doted on, that the creatures knew something serious had just happened, and were doing their best to spoil them. It was strangely comforting.

When they finished picking at their food they moved to a couple of comfortable armchairs and Draco finally put voice to the question Hermione had been avoiding thinking since she realized the meaning of that brand on Mr. Malfoy's arm.

"Do you think my father hurt people," he asked quietly, unable to look at her.

She took a deep breath and tried to decide how to answer him. Because at the very least his father had even part of a group whose leader was responsible for the murder of one of her other friend's parents, as well as many others, and they both knew it.

"I don't know," she finally said truthfully, "but I think he's sorry, and I think if you-know-who comes back he'll fight against him this time, and that's what's important."

Draco just nodded, but she didn't think he really believed her, she wasn't sure she believed herself.

Author's note: I want to be clear that I'm not trying to whitewash the terrible things Lucius probably did, but it's unrealistic to think that he was going to confess to a laundry list of atrocities to two twelve-year-olds. He's as contrite as I could realistically make him. That said, though he certainly has a cruel streak, he's no sadist, and I really believe he joined Voldemort for the power and prestige and because of his father's influence. I also think he'd become disillusioned by the end of the first war, in canon we never see him search Voldemort out, he only rejoins him when he has to. I just didn't want anybody to think I was trying to excuse his behavior or make light of things, that is a dangerous thing to do even in a fictional world.

On a lighter note, you guys just get more and more awesome, thanks for all the support. If you have time I'd especially like to see your thoughts! I hope to have another chapter out sooner next time, the last two have been content and dialogue heavy and required extra attention. Thanks for reading!