Chapter 9

It was a magical summer in every sense of the word. Hermione finally learned how it felt to belong. It was glorious. Her own parents were wonderful, but trying to fit into their world had been like trying to don an ill fitting dress: wrong and uncomfortable. It had made her magic itch.

Malfoy Manor fed her every need. Hogwarts had been adequate but the Malfoy seat fulfilled her. When Narcissa had unceremoniously led her to a suite she'd never been inside before, announced it now belonged to her, and then started chatting happily about decorating the rooms, Hermione actually burst into tears.

"Dearest don't cry," the older witch had said in her regally maternal way, "I simply wanted you to have a space of your own here, you are not a guest."

Hermione only cried harder.

After which, she'd gotten a crash course in interior design by the force of nature that was Narcissa Malfoy. It would have been frightening if she had not already started to become accustomed to the witch's fervor. Sooner than it would have been possible without magic she had a suite decorated to her tastes in the family wing of Malfoy Manor.

She did not spend the night often. The evenings and weekends were her time with her parents. And even when she did, it felt more like a slumber party than going to bed at home, but that didn't matter, she was blown away by the thought behind the gesture. And though she never would have admitted it, she felt a bit like a princess. The rooms were opulent by anybody's standards but Narcissa had behaved like they were nothing more than what she rightfully deserved.

The mornings were largely spent in lessons with Lucius or Narcissa, sometimes both. Draco was somewhat surly about it at first, he'd been expecting a couple of months of freedom. Not what, when it came down to it, was just more schooling. But when he noticed that she was consistently outperforming him, his competitive streak emerged and he became fully invested in what his parents were trying to teach them. If only to prevent himself from being completely outdone by his muggleborn companion.

As for Hermione, she knew that she didn't have a lot of experience with magical people, especially magical adults. However, she'd read more than enough to know that both of the Malfoy parents were exceptionally gifted, if in different ways. She was lucky to have them teaching her and refused to take that for granted.

And it was all so fascinating. Apparently both she and Draco were naturally talented at occlumency, which set her mind at ease. She knew it was important that they learned to shield their thoughts, had a terrible feeling that one day their ability to do so might be the difference between life and death. And she knew she wasn't meant to use them except in an emergency, but her defensive lessons made her feel safe in a way she never had before.

Lucius (she had warmed to the man and found him to be surprisingly good company, but she still stumbled over his first name, even in her head, because he was just one of those people who naturally commanded respect and it seemed inherently wrong to address him so informally) was actually an amazing teacher. His lessons ended up being less frightening than she'd worried they would be. He was curt with her at first, but he was with Draco as well so she couldn't accuse him of prejudice, and it was soon clear that he just took matters very seriously.

He gave them books to read. Many of which she suspected would not have met the approval of the Hogwarts staff. This troubled her at first, but he explained that it was important to understand what you were fighting against. He also argued that the line between right and wrong was often fuzzy, and that when it came to spell casting, it had a lot to do with how you intended to use said spell. For instance, a cutting curse was not inherently evil, it could be used to chop vegetables as easily as it could harm another human being. Even the killing curse could be used to humanely euthanize an animal.

He was also insistent that dark magic held an important place in the world. 'Dark' did not mean evil, it was as natural as a storm on a sunny day. The storm may appear to ruin the day, but the rain was essential to enriching the land. There could be no light without the dark, no day without night, and the ministry's whitewashing of magical history had done their society no favors. It had led to Voldemort's first rise as he had, rightly, been able to argue that the delicate balance had been disturbed. If the ministry had accepted the nature of magic in all her facets there would have been no void for Grindewald or Voldemort or any other supposed dark lord to fill.

Hermione spent many hours lying in bed staring at the ceiling of her bedroom wondering if she should be worried about how readily she agreed with his analysis. She let it all sink in, determined to learn as much as she could and use her time to analyze it later, even as she knew, deep down, that she'd long ago decided to trust these people. Even as she reveled in the knowledge he fed her.

In the afternoons they were afforded more freedom.

'I have no intention of forcing you out of childhood before your time,' Narcissa had quipped at one point.

So, they also spent many hours enjoying the innumerable wonders that Malfoy Manor had to offer them. Swimming in the lake or the pool; running about on the grounds; trekking about in the woods. Her suburban neighborhood, posh enough, simply couldn't compare.

Lucius and Narcissa had the most amusing arguments about teaching her how to ride, arguments that actually terrified her until she'd noticed Draco barely suppressing a smile when he'd witnessed them. After that she'd largely listened to Narcissa's advice. She thought there was probably something to her assertion that there was a difference riding as a woman. She still dutifully paid attention to Lucius to avoid conflict and giggled internally as Draco sent her conspiratorial looks the whole time, and quietly whispered his own advice. She swore to herself that she'd never tell him, or especially his parents, that his tips were the most helpful.

But none of that began to compete with the joy of practicing magic with Draco. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. Better than when she'd been given her Hogwarts letter, better than finding her wand, even better than seeing Hogwarts for the first time; when her magic was stimulated as it never had been before because it had stagnated in the muggle world.

But this was more than that. It was like she came alive with him, was connected not just to her magic but to herself and to him. The best thing she had to compare it to was the first time she'd read a book that had really touched her, it was where she was meant to be. It wasn't just Malfoy Manor, it was Draco. There was something between them that she wouldn't put voice to words, it was sacred.

She had a suspicion that Narcissa was keeping a secret from her. Actually, she was certain the witch was keeping many secrets, she admitted as much, claiming that they were too young to worry about certain things. It was just this, whatever it was that she shared with Draco, that she was certain the woman was refusing to discuss specifically. But that was okay, she would never tell Narcissa about the way she felt about this link with Draco either. It was not intimate in a way that his mother could ever object to, but it was still unbearably personal.

The summer passed. It all seemed to happen in the blink of an eye, a blink of an eye which felt like a dream to Hermione. And it was a dream she was rudely awoken from long before she was ready.

At the end of August, Ron had written her to inform her that his family would be shopping for school supplies the following week along with Harry, and asked if she wanted to join in. She wasn't particularly keen, but she also felt pleased because hadn't needed to invite her, but he still had, and that felt nice. In addition, it was an excuse to visit the Alley.

She, of course, needed her school supplies, and she obviously couldn't visit with the Malfoys. Though she felt guilty over the sentiment she wanted to avoid bringing her parents, who stood out. They actually viewed the invitation as an opportunity, they dropped her off to do her necessary shopping while they ran errands in London. She was plenty clever enough to to get her supplies and they had the necessary exposure to the magical world through the Malfoys, they didn't feel the need to follow her around while they had other things they could accomplish.

Harry and Ron had been reliable if slightly dull correspondents over the summer. Ron because it was becoming increasingly clear that they didn't have anything in common other than being Gryffindors in the same year who were best friends with Harry, and Harry because he seemed to be truly bored by his relatives and simply didn't have much to tell her. She certainly couldn't elucidate on what she'd been up to over the summer. They'd surely found her letters as boring as she'd thought theirs, or even moreso, given her propensity for encouraging them to do their schoolwork.

She had been relieved to hear, just over a week before her invitation to meet them in the Alley, that Harry had been allowed to go stay with Ron. She had been anxious for him, wanted him out of his relatives' house. And she wasn't foolish enough to think he'd be allowed to stay at her house, should she have offered, being a muggle household. She tried not to let that reality chafe.

The Malfoys were wonderful, but they couldn't stop the prejudices of the world she inhabited from hurting. She also wasn't stupid enough to think that they hadn't contributed to them. What if they turned on her someday? What if Draco turned on her someday? Every fiber of her being told her it was impossible, but she was still scared. Nothing would be worse than that. She put to out of her mind.

She met the Weasleys at the Leaky for an early lunch, they'd spent the morning getting fitted for robes. She was infinitely grateful that Narcissa had assisted her in sending an owl ahead with her measurements and some orders for new school robes and some other outfits, and so she hadn't needed to be present for that part of the trip. She knew Draco was deeply envious that she'd avoided a shopping trip with his mother.

It was good to see Harry and Ron again. It was also somewhat disconcerting to be amongst the Weasley family. Harry was sweet, as usual, if awkward. Draco may have been somewhat uncomfortable with physical contact, but Harry was actually alarmed by it, a fact which bothered her immensely.

Ron's manners, always jarring to her, actually made her cringe over lunch. Percy was Percy, almost outrageously arrogant but hardly worth a thought. She was wary of the twins since Draco had pointed out their bullying behavior to her, and found it telling that even their own siblings seemed to feel the same way.

Mr. Weasley seemed very nice, but the way he quizzed her about muggles made her cringe. He studied them like muggles studied animals in a zoo. He was apparently the ministry's leading expert on the non-magical population and yet he could not even pronounce 'electricity' correctly. Even Lucius knew better by now. It was no wonder their society was prejudiced against muggles.

Ginny was sweet, but the way she gazed worshipfully at Harry was disturbing. Hermione had seen shades of it before, he had a lot of other fans at Hogwarts, but never to this extent. She guessed the little girl's crush had only been encouraged by all those terrible boy-who-lived stories that she'd learned were so common in magical Britain, as well as the fact that the object of that crush was staying in her house and was best friends with her brother.

She was…reticent as she went shopping with them. It wasn't anything that anybody did, but she felt like a spare part. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Draco and Lucius enter Flourish and Blotts a few minutes after she'd accompanied the Weasleys into the shop. Draco sent her a little grin and Lucius actually winked at her when he was sure nobody was looking. She felt her heart grow full as she recognized that their appearance was not a coincidence, but a designed show of support.

She couldn't shop with them but they were still here for her. They could have come to do their shopping on any other day. Instead they'd made an appearance just to make sure she felt secure.

The animosity she felt thrumming between Lucius and Mr. Weasley was palpable and a little frightening. As a result the handsome author who was holding a book signing in the shop barely registered to her. Even if she did feel a bit overcome that Gilderoy Lockhart was to be her professor in a few weeks. What an unbelievable step-up from Quirrell!

She left the Alley with many questions about the Weasleys. But she was excited for the new school year even as she hated to see the summer come to an end. Those few minutes in Flourish and Blotts gave her some insight into just how difficult it was going to be to pretend like she wasn't friends with Draco, much more difficult than it had been the previous year.

A few days later when Narcissa entered the drawing room where Hermione and Draco were having morning tea, she took one look at the books sitting on a side table, gave a decidedly out of character snort, whipped out her wand, and set them on fire.

"Narcissa!" Hermione yelped.

Draco just looked on with wide eyes.

"Relax my dear, while kindling might be all those books are truly good for, I wouldn't destroy them, I know you need them for school," another flick of her wand and the flames were extinguished, the books undamaged, "honestly, shouldn't you of all people know that magical flames aren't always destructive?"

Hermione was both chagrined and curious, mostly curious, "what do you mean, why did you do that?"

Narcissa sighed.

"Dumbledore used to be a great wizard, if a bit prone to bias when it came to his precious Gryffindors, but now I suspect he's going senile," she said, apropos of nothing and Hermione looked at her, even more confused, "tell me Hermione, what do you think of this Mr. Lockhart?" she waved her hand towards the books with a little moue of disgust.

"Well, he seems brilliant," she responded, suddenly unsure, "I haven't finished the first book yet but if the others are like that one then he's done a lot of amazing things. I can't imagine he'd be so famous otherwise."

Narcissa scoffed.

"You'll learn as you get older that public adulation isn't all it's cracked up to be, people are easily led. However, I don't want to prejudice you, I want you to read these books, carefully, with your eyes open, and when you're through I'd like you to tell me if your opinion of Mr. Lockhart stands."

She just nodded dumbly. Narcissa wasn't asking her to do anything she hadn't planned to do on her own, but she couldn't imagine what the older witch was getting at. She'd be going through those books with a fine toothed comb though. Draco was hunched over in his chair doing his best to disappear, obviously hoping to avoid being commanded to read the entire set of books before school even started, she bit back a snort at the sight. However, his ploy worked.

Just hours later Hermione was nearly in tears, she was a mere three chapters into the second tome in the series. How could she have been so blind? The man was a fraud, his stories full of holes and contradictions, his boasting outlandish. She felt as if her trust had been personally violated. Books were sacred to Hermione and for him to use them to so thoroughly deceive the public repulsed her.

What was worse, she had a sinking feeling that she would never have seen it had she not been warned by Narcissa. She'd been blinded by the pretty face gracing the covers and the even prettier way he wove his ridiculous tales. She also understood the woman questioning Dumbledore's mental state. How could he hire such a buffoon to teach them to defend themselves? They were about to waste another year in DADA, and now that she knew for certain that the spirit of Voldemort was out there waiting to return to power, the idea not only wounded her studious soul, but scared her. Thank Merlin for their private lessons.

Narcissa was, as always, kind about the whole ordeal. She simply gave Hermione a warning about being tricked by appearances, but she didn't make her feel like a fool. Hermione still felt like one. Imagine having a crush on a teacher!

She hadn't been at Hogwarts a week before Draco was pulling her into an alcove. He was grinning, and dressed for quidditch, a look she'd become accustomed to over the summer but couldn't account for on Hogwarts grounds as he wasn't on the house team.

"I did it!" he crowed, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

"What is it that you did?" she asked carefully, refusing to allow her ignorance to ruin his good mood.

"I'm the new Slytherin seeker! We've just had tryouts, it was the only position open and Flint made his decision on the spot. I think I was the obvious choice," he preened.

She hadn't known Slytherin was holding quidditch tryouts but, then again, that wasn't the sort of thing she kept track of even in her own house. She did wish that she'd known he would be trying for something that was so important to him. But, because she knew it was important to him, she also wouldn't allow the feeling of having been left out temper his happiness in any way. She viciously stamped out her jealousy of his housemates who got to talk to him all the time and grinned at him happily.

"That's amazing Draco, congratulations!" she leaned forward and hugged him eagerly, feeling victorious when he didn't flinch, or stiffen in any way, but hugged her back immediately, he'd take her hand without a second thought but hugs still seemed to freak him out for some reason.

"I have to go," he said, still practically bouncing, "but I wanted to be the one to tell you," he gave her one more of his sly grins and was gone.

He walked away, as usual, without looking back and not knowing how his casual words warmed her heart.

Harry and Ron griped for days after they found out that Draco's father had bought the entire Slytherin quidditch team new brooms.

"I'm just saying it's wrong!" Ron groaned for what seemed like the thousandth time.

Hermione snapped.

"It's actually not. If it was, Harry would never have been allowed his broom last year. In fact, they made an exception to the rule for Harry because first years aren't supposed to have brooms at all. What the Slytherins are doing isn't against any rule," she explained, tired of hearing about it.

Harry and Ron stared at her like she'd just told them she was transferring to Slytherin house, and she immediately regretted her words.

"How can you say that?" Harry asked, sounding hurt.

"Whose side are you on!" Ron raged at the same time.

She took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm on Gryffindor's side, of course. I'm simply saying that it would be hypocritical of us to complain. Harry didn't do anything wrong last year, and they aren't doing anything wrong now. If you think it's unfair, then you need to advocate for a change in the rules that forces everybody to ride the same model of broom so nobody is given an advantage based on their equipment. As it is the Slytherins are only acting like Slytherins, this is a very cunning way to give them a boost without breaking any rules."

She knew the gift to the Slytherin team had only been Lucius' way of showing pride in his son, and rewarding him for his hard work in making the team. Malfoys always had the best, so he'd purchased the best. It wouldn't have crossed his mind that it was wrong, it was simply a different way of thinking than Harry, Ron, and most other Gryffindors used. Ron looked absolutely furious, Harry still looked hurt, but also thoughtful.

At the end of the first week of classes Hermione was lounging in the common room reading one of the muggle novels she'd dared to bring with her this year (last year, with the exception of a few pieces of clothing, she'd only brought items from the magical world with her to Hogwarts) when she noticed that Harry was sitting next to her just staring at her- Harry was far less restless than Ron and was certainly capable of just sitting quietly, but he never studied her the way that he was now.

"What?" she asked after a few minutes.

"You're different," he commented, "but I can't quite put my finger on how."

"What do you mean?" she flipped her book shut to give him her full attention.

He frowned.

"Like I said, I don't know exactly. I think, maybe, you seem calmer?" he speculated.

"Calmer?" she asked slowly.

"Yeah, like you don't seem as frenzied about school work, you don't have to be the one to answer every question in class," he pointed to the book on her lap, "you're reading a book, just for fun, a muggle novel. Last year you considered 'Hogwarts: A History' to be light reading," he shrugged, "like I said, different."

"Oh," she said thoughtfully, "well I suppose this year I feel more comfortable at Hogwarts. Last year I didn't have any idea what to expect."

He nodded.

"That makes sense," he paused, looking at her thoughtfully, "it's nice, you know. Not that I didn't like you before, of course, but you were always so stressed, it was sometimes stressful to be around you."

She gave him a small smile.

"Thank you Harry," she bit her lip teasingly, "but I make no promises about my behavior come exam time."

He laughed.

"Fair enough."

He got up then, undoubtedly to go find Ron and find something more interesting to do than stare at her.

She hadn't thought Harry was that observant, he was a twelve year old boy, after all. Then again, very little about Harry was typical. However, she felt slightly guilty about the lie of omission she had just told him, and that she was continuing to tell all of her friends. Nobody knew of her connection to the Malfoy family, nor could they, of course. She knew the tutelage she'd gotten about the wizarding world, and just spending so much time with such a sophisticated magical family had done a lot for her confidence, and created the calmness that Harry had noticed. She just felt more comfortable in her own skin, and in her abilities. It was wonderful, but hiding the truth tugged at her conscience. Then again, there was nothing to be done about it.

On the morning of her birthday a couple of weeks later a petite and beautiful owl she'd never seen before brought her a thick letter. It contained greetings from Narcissa as well as Lucius, though she had no delusions he'd actually contributed to its writing, many exclamations about how she was missed around the Manor, and a final note telling her that the owl was actually her birthday gift. The bird had apparently been specifically trained to discreetly deliver letters in muggle areas.

Her eyes filled with tears. Her parents had always been worried about using owl post, she was sure this would do much to quell that fear. It was an extraordinarily generous gift, expensive, yes, but mostly it was enormously thoughtful. It gave her a means to write not only to Claire and Narcissa more reliably, but especially to her parents from whom she feared becoming isolated, even given their extended access to the magical world thanks to the Malfoys.

Also, there was the fact that, in the five minutes since she'd appeared in the Great Hall and perched daintily next to Hermione's plate, she'd fallen in love with the little bird. She caught Draco's eyes across the room, and he shot her a brief questioning look, before quickly turning his attention elsewhere.

"I've been sent this owl as a birthday gift!" she exclaimed happily, to the Gryffindor table at large, since she couldn't go over and talk to Draco, and perhaps thank him in lieu of his parents, she'd have to settle for writing them later.

"That's great, Hermione!" Harry said enthusiastically.

She shot him a grin in thanks. Ron just grumbled under his breath about hand me downs, and how it must be nice to get a pet picked especially for you. She felt a brief surge of annoyance, but quickly put it behind her.

Draco pulled her into an alcove later that afternoon, he really had gotten very sneaky about that.

"Mother sent you that owl for your birthday?" he questioned.

"Yes," she grinned, "I'm ever so excited. It'll be so nice to have a way to speak with my parents. You were the one who pointed out how unreliable post owls could be, and they were concerned about having such large owls flying to the house regularly, it tends to draw undue attention, muggles don't use owls after all."

He rolled his eyes.

"I actually did know that," he said condescendingly.

"I didn't know owls could be trained to stay out of sight of muggles."

He looked surprised and she grinned in triumph.

"I'm guessing you didn't know that one," she said, "well, anyways, thank you."

"For what?"

"The owl."

"I didn't buy you the owl, Hermione. I didn't even know about it."

"Oh, I just assumed it was from your family," she explained with a shrug.

"No, this is from me," he shoved a package she'd yet to notice into her hands.

"You got me something?" she questioned, determined to keep the emotion out of her voice.

"It's your birthday," he answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She hadn't bought him anything for his birthday in June, unsure about the bounds of their relationship at that point, and she'd been sure that, if nothing else, would dictate his behavior on her birthday. She ripped through the paper to find an assortment of sweets. On one level she was unsurprised, Draco had an undeniable sweet tooth and the packages he received from his mother on a regular basis were noticed even at the Gryffindor table. But he'd selected only those that he knew she liked. She hadn't realized he could be as thoughtful as his mother, at least in his own, clumsy, twelve year old way. She really couldn't judge, she'd only just turned thirteen.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"You're welcome," he shrugged, "so have you named it? The owl, I mean?"

"Atalanta," she said happily, hoping for his approval, he gave it immediately with a nod.

"I like it," then he smirked at her, "is it because she eventually turned into a lion, Miss Gryffindor?" he nudged her playfully.

She suppressed a triumphant grin at his casual touch.

"No," she responded primly, "it's because she was so swift none of the boys could catch her."

He rolled his eyes.

"One of them did, eventually."

"Yes, but he had to use trickery to do it."

"You better be careful," he warned, "not all of us are so noble to be above trickery," he smirked at her.

She could only stare at him in shock.

"Slytherin, Hermione," he said pointing to himself, "there's a whole house of us."

She just nodded wordlessly, he rolled his eyes.

"Happy birthday," he said, grabbing her in a quick and surprising hug and then looking quickly around and darting away without a backwards glance.

0000000000

Narcissa sat with her hands clasped together to keep them from shaking, her wand at the ready in case Lucius needed her to come to his aid. He was casting every detection spell she'd ever heard of, and a few he'd just told her about, on that blasted journal. The thing was malevolent, even more so than she'd originally believed. It made her skin crawl to know that her husband had been alone with it, and she was so glad he'd asked for her assistance this time. Next time they'd bring an elf along as well, the more backup they had the better. Just thirty minutes in the same room with the thing and Narcissa feared, had she or Lucius been less skilled occlumens that they would already have been tempted to do something very stupid like write in it.

She was so glad she'd asked Lucius to remove it from their home. She was also happy they'd waited until Draco and Hermione had returned to school to start running these experiments. They'd learned very little about the object, but what they had was frightening and disheartening and she didn't have it in her to go home and pretend for them. No, she'd go home and have an early night with her husband all the while quietly cursing Abraxas to the deepest pits of hell for getting them into this mess.

Then, tomorrow she'd turn the lady's boudoir within their suite where she'd never slept, and never planned to, into her own study and research lab. She'd figure out how to get that taint out of her husband's arm if it was the last thing she did. After that she planned to pack her family off to an unplottable island somewhere and let somebody else deal with slaying the monster.

Author's note: A departure from the emotions of the last few chapters but it was time to move things along. If you want to know more about the myth of Atalanta just do a simple google search and plenty of information will pop right up. Sorry, I'm not writing it out and this site won't let me post links.

Thank you, the support for this story continues to be wonderful. The response to the last chapter especially blew me away! I'm so grateful!