Chapter 12

"Oh my," Narcissa gasped when Raffie handed her a copy of the Daily Prophet and she caught a glimpse of the front page which featured a prominent picture of her estranged cousin raging and shaking the bars of his prison cell; a cell which no longer contained him.

For the first time an inmate had broken out of Azkaban, and it was Sirius Black.

She had to admit, if anybody could do it, it would be Sirius. She was almost proud of him. He could deny it all he wanted, and he'd tried to run from it, but he was a Black through and through.

"Is something the matter?" asked Hermione.

Narcissa looked at her breakfast companion and sighed. Hermione would be fourteen in a matter of weeks, certainly old enough to hear this story, and if Narcissa didn't tell her she'd just hear rumors when she returned to Hogwarts anyway. But it wasn't a discussion she particularly wanted to have.

So many past demons coming back to haunt them.

She steeled herself and pushed the paper across the table so that Hermione could read the headline. It was Hermione's turn to gasp. She hadn't known Sirius of course, but his appearance was shocking enough on its own.

"He's your cousin?" she asked.

Narcissa nodded, "yes, my first cousin, though we were never close, he's several years younger than me. When we were children the age gap seemed larger than it actually is. But also, our mothers didn't get along, so I didn't see him often."

"He was a Death Eater?" she ventured hesitantly.

Hermione knew about Bellatrix, but Sirius had never been mentioned. She assumed Hermione had probably read his name once or twice in the magical genealogy books she'd studied, and it was natural that she would assume, as a Black, that he'd been a follower of the Dark Lord.

"No he wasn't, in fact he was a member of Dumbledore's, well I suppose one would call it a resistance group, The Order of the Phoenix."

Hermione let out an indelicate snort, Narcissa raised an eyebrow in response.

"You disapprove?"

"Well it sounds rather grandiose, doesn't it? And I understand the symbolism of the Phoenix rising from the ashes, but in order to rise it first has to burn. I'm not sure I'd want to be reminding people of that in the middle of a war. Doesn't seem great for recruiting purposes," she wrinkled her nose.

Narcissa let out a trilling laugh, this child was so delightful.

"Well it was quite a small group, as I understand it, all personally loyal to Dumbledore. He could have called it 'Dumbledore's Army' and they would still have joined him," she said wryly.

Hermione made a face. Narcissa bit back another laugh, the girl had barely blinked an eye over his responsibility for the incident with the philosopher's stone, but she was never going to forgive her Headmaster for employing Lockhart.

"Anyway, as I was saying, Sirius was a well known light sided wizard. He may have been the first Black ever to be sorted into Gryffindor, and he was best friends with James Potter."

Hermione inhaled sharply, "I'm not going to like how this ends, am I?"

"I'm afraid not, dearest."

"I'm sorry, go ahead."

"Well, Sirius had a combative relationship with his parents which only got worse after he went to Hogwarts. He finally ran away from home when he was 15 or 16 and the Potters took him in. He considered them to be his family. Though he was never formally disowned by his grandfather, the Lord Black, he never reconciled with the family either," she took a calming breath, "Now, what do you know about the night the Dark Lord was vanquished?"

She shrugged, "almost nothing."

"Well the story goes that the Dark Lord wanted the Potters to join his ranks. James' parents were dead by then, so I'm speaking of James and Lily when I say 'the Potters.' Potter was an old and powerful family, and both of them were known to be powerful and talented as well, exactly the kind of followers he wanted."

"Even though Harry's mum was a muggleborn?" she asked, mouth pursed in confusion.

"Even considering that," she confirmed, "he tried to recruit them but was rebuffed, apparently more than once. So he decided to eliminate them instead. Now, keep in mind, things had been disorienting for a long time. There were spies on both sides, people had doubts about the loyalty of their closest friends. So, when through one of the Order's informants they found out that the Dark Lord was after them, they went into hiding. It was the sensible thing to do, once he set his sights on you, you generally didn't survive for long."

She looked at Hermione to gauge how she was handling this, but she was just nodding along.

"What the public believes happened next is that Sirius had, at some point, turned spy for the Dark Lord, and that he gave up their location and led the Dark Lord to them that Halloween. He was tracked down by aurors later that night, he had just killed one of his other best friends, a man named Peter Pettigrew. Thirteen muggles were caught in the crossfire and killed as well. He was apparently ranting about how it was his fault that the Potters were dead. He was immediately arrested and sent to Azkaban."

Hermione listened, her eyes narrowed in thought.

"You said 'what the public believes happened.' May I assume that means that's not what really happened?"

"Smart girl," she smiled fondly, "when I first read the story I knew that it had to be wrong."

"How? I thought you said you didn't know Sirius very well."

She tilted her head in acknowledgment.

"I knew enough, I knew the type of person that he was. You see, everybody thinks Sirius and Andromeda are alike, the Black family blood traitors," she said mockingly, "but it's actually Sirius and Bellatrix who are alike."

Hermione's eyes went wide.

"I know how that sounds, but allow me to explain. Andromeda is quiet, deliberate, the consummate Slytherin. I was the only one who had any inkling that she was even seeing a muggleborn wizard, much less that she planned to run off and elope with him, until she had done it. Sirius and Bellatrix are the opposite. Brash, they wear their hearts on their sleeves and they say what they think and do what they want. If she'd been so inclined Bellatrix would have made an excellent Gryffindor," she glanced at Hermione, "I know how ironic that seems, and I mean no slight on your house."

"There is good and bad in the traits of all the houses," she responded quietly.

Narcissa just nodded and continued, "As a child Bellatrix felt neglected by our parents. As the eldest I believe she felt the disappointment of not being a boy the most. She was desperate for their attention and to please them, but it never worked. She was always unstable, but I think that constant disappointment is what started her on the road to true madness."

'Wow,' Hermione mouthed to herself.

"So, eventually she went looking for somebody who would give her the attention she craved, who would encourage her and appreciate her efforts. What she found was the Dark Lord. And Merlin did she worship him! She would have done anything for him, and in the end she nearly did. She would never have betrayed him," she explained confidently, "When he was vanquished she became so desperate that she allowed herself to be caught torturing two aurors trying to find out what had happened to him. I know it sounds heartless, but she never would have behaved that carelessly before."

"That's why she's in Azkaban," Hermione said with dawning realization.

She nodded, "I was relieved, to be honest, it wasn't safe to have Draco around her," she took a sip of tea; after all these years it was still difficult to talk about Bellatrix, she didn't approve of her sister's choices, but she often wondered if she had ever really had a chance to be better, now that she was a parent she understood how badly her parents had failed their eldest child; it was as sad as it was terrible.

She braced herself to continue; convincing herself that she would not similarly fail Draco and Hermione.

"Sirius could never please his parents either, but instead of trying harder to do the impossible, he rebelled; got himself sorted into Gryffindor and became more and more outspoken against his family's ideals. He finally found a place with the Potters. James' parents considered him a second son and James a brother. It was an established fact in our social circles, they did everything but adopt him. He would no more have joined the Dark Lord, much less betrayed the Potters, than Bellatrix would have turned spy for the light."

Narcissa cut her eyes to Hermione, she was rapidly growing into a mature woman, but in many ways she was still a child, and this would be trusting her with a lot. But, what it all boiled down to was that she did trust her.

"It just didn't make any sense," she commenced her story with a sigh, "Not that there isn't darkness in him, and he's obviously capable of great violence, but he would have died before he gave up James, Lily, and Harry. When I shared my suspicions with Lucius he confirmed that, though very few people knew it, Peter Pettigrew had actually been the spy who revealed their location."

"And that's why Sirius went after him," Hermione broke in almost immediately, but she was frowning, "but how did he know it was this Peter Pettigrew? Surely it could have been any number of people? And then why did he say it was his fault that they were dead if he didn't do it?" she asked, with obvious frustration.

"Good girl Hermione, don't ever take anything at face value," she gave her an approving nod, "And the answer to that, it turns out, is that it could only have been Peter after all. You see, the Potters used a very obscure and complicated charm to hide in plain sight. This charm is called the Fidelius, and it can be used to hide a dwelling from everybody except those who have been told the location from a person called the secret keeper. Peter was the Potters' secret keeper, so he was able to reveal their location to the Dark Lord. Sirius knew because he was one of the people who had been told the secret. I can't tell you exactly why Sirius said those things, but people say all sorts of things in the throes of despair. Perhaps he felt guilty for not being the secret keeper himself. I would think he would have been the natural choice, but it's very possible he wasn't trusted within the Order because he was a Black, and so the task was passed to Pettigrew. Nobody seems to have doubted that Sirius was capable of turning to the Dark Lord, even after all this time, so that stands to reason."

She sat, eating quietly and watched while Hermione absorbed it all.

"You said that Sirius and James thought of each other like brothers?" Hermione questioned.

"That was my understanding, yes. As I said, in public the Potters treated him like a member of their family. You see, House Potter is powerful and well respected, treating him as such gave Sirius some protection from the ire of House Black. My Uncle Arcturus, who was Lord Black at the time and Sirius' grandfather, wouldn't have wanted to start a feud between them over what he considered to be mere teenage rebellion."

Hermione frowned and pushed her food around on her plate thoughtfully, Narcissa resisted the urge to reprimand her.

"But that means that Sirius would have been like Harry's uncle," she said slowly as she worked out the connections in her head, "maybe Harry would have gotten to go live with him instead, if he hadn't gotten sent to Azkaban."

"That's a possibility," she conceded, frankly she had never understood why some magical family hadn't been found for the boy, a concern that only escalated after the issues Hermione had shared about the boy's problematic home life; he didn't belong with muggles, much less muggles who didn't even want him.

"Poor Harry," she sighed sadly, Narcissa could practically feel her hurting for her friend, her aura had dulled significantly over the course of the conversation.

Narcissa decided she might as well get all the bad news all out at once.

"I'm afraid there's more," she confessed.

"More?" she wondered, clearly taken aback.

"The two aurors Bellatrix was caught torturing?"

"What about them?" she asked, visibly hesitant.

Narcissa's eyes briefly fell shut; she hated this.

"They were your friend Neville's parents," she admitted.

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth to stifle her horror-filled gasp and Narcissa found herself avoiding the younger witch's gaze, it wasn't her fault, but she still felt greatly ashamed.

"I don't understand. Neville never talks about his parents, I know he lives with his grandmother, so I was under the impression that he was an orphan. What happened to them?" she cried.

Narcissa deliberately uncrossed and the recrossed her legs, and readjusted her posture, making sure it was as straight as ever.

"They are not dead, though they may be better off if they were. It wasn't just Bella by herself, it was her husband, his brother, and another Death Eater by the name of Barty Crouch. Between them they managed to torture the Longbottoms past even the point of insanity. They are lost in their own minds, they are permanent residents of St. Mungo's."

Hermione closed her eyes as a tear fell down her cheek. Narcissa stood up and rounded the table, gently taking the younger witch's arm, helping her up and leading her into an adjoining sitting room. She settled them on a sofa and let her cry it out. When she calmed, Narcissa rubbed her back soothingly.

"I don't think I need to tell you that this is sensitive information," she eventually said.

"Of course, it's not like I could explain how I got it anyways. But I can tell Draco, right?" she sniffed.

"I would never ask you to keep anything from Draco," she paused, "except maybe for the contents of a birthday or Christmas gift, he can be so nosy and impatient," she said, hoping to inject some levity into the conversation.

It worked and Hermione giggled.

"I wish he was here," she said rather pitifully, then her head flew up in alarm and she met Narcissa's eyes, "not that you're not good enough, and I'm glad he's getting this time with his father, I know he was excited, even though he pretended to think it would be boring," she hastened to explain.

Narcissa chuckled. Lucius had taken Draco to America on business for a couple of weeks. She had intentionally bowed out of the trip to give them some time alone with the excuse that she needed to stay home and continue Hermione's lessons, as the girl was going on an extended holiday with her parents and would already be missing that time.

"It's perfectly okay for you to miss Draco, I'm not insulted. In fact, I understand. These wizards of ours are hard to live without, even for a little while."

"Draco's not mine," she responded automatically.

Narcissa pulled away slightly so that she could get a good look at the girl.

"Isn't he?" she asked archly.

"He's my best friend, but not, you know, more than that," she squirmed.

"Would you rather leave him to another witch?"

"No!" she cried and then, too late, she clapped a hand over her traitorous mouth.

Narcissa suppressed a smile, she had expressed such a sentiment to Hermione on several occasions before, and while the poor girl had always looked like she'd rather throw herself off the Astronomy Tower than lose Draco to another witch, she'd always refrained from verbally expressing the sentiment.

"Relax, sweetheart, I have eyes, you are not telling me anything I didn't already know, that I haven't known for awhile," she soothed.

"Who else knows?" Hermione asked, closing her eyes in mortification.

"Lucius, your parents, and I imagine Claire as well. I think the only person who doesn't, is the one who really should."

She groaned and buried her face in her hands.

"But what about what you and mum said, about not ruining our friendship?"

She and Helen had had their planned talk with Hermione over her Easter holidays, but the young witch had still been deeply in denial at the time, so Narcissa hadn't pushed the issue in the months since, even as she continued to watch her growing closeness with Draco. They were already in the midst of a romance in every way but name.

"There is more than one way to do that than by rushing into a relationship. You could always wait too long, leaving him to interpret your reactions as a rejection. Do you remember how you acted when he presented you with your Valentine's Day gift?"

"I ran away, I was so confused," she moaned, "but I tried to make up for it, to reassure him," she said desperately.

She patted her hand consolingly.

"As did his father and I when he wrote home to ask if he'd inadvertently insulted you in some way," she soothed, "There was no lasting harm. My point is that if you continue on like this there are bound to be more misunderstandings and eventually it will begin to strain your friendship."

She sat patiently as Hermione absorbed this.

"What if he doesn't feel the same way?" she eventually asked, once again on the brink of tears.

"I truly don't think that will be a problem, I know my son even better than I know you," she took a deep breath, she didn't want to alarm the poor child, "Just think about it dearest, it will be several weeks before you see him again. You have time."

"Oh I'm such a mess!" Hermione cried dramatically, throwing herself back on the sofa with an arm thrown across her face.

Narcissa chuckled lightly, carefully filing away this conversation to tease Hermione with in the years to come.

0000000000

Draco was on pins and needles, his magic was so restless he doubted he'd be able to cast so much as a 'lumos' without massively over powering it. He was finally going to see Hermione today. It had been more than three weeks.

His trip with his Father had overlapped with the holiday she was taking with her parents. He needed to find some way to ensure that never happened again, because her absence had him crawling out of his skin.

"Draco!"

His head snapped up to see his mother looking at him from across the breakfast table, a little smile of amusement on her face. His father was smirking at him from behind the morning paper.

"Yes Mother?"

"That's the third time I've called your name, does something have you distracted?"

He looked away from her uncomfortably, "I apologize, I was just thinking."

"Oh?" she asked, she clearly didn't believe it was that simple.

"Yes," he responded firmly.

"Hermione will be back today, I know that I for one am anxious to see her, and it has been longer for you," she said knowingly.

His father made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort.

"Yes, I am excited to see Hermione," he conceded, refusing to appear bothered by the ribbing.

She left him alone for a blessed few minutes.

"May I ask you a straightforward question?" his mother suddenly asked.

He resisted the urge to groan out loud.

"Be careful how you answer, Son," his father warned, "your mother is a dangerous witch," he lowered his paper to wink at him.

Draco sat up a little straighter. He was seeing a whole new side of his father since their time away. He'd begun to treat him at times more like an associate than a child, and had even started asking his opinion on occasion. But he wouldn't save him from his mother.

"Of course Mother," he wasn't foolish enough to think he really had the option to answer in the negative.

"How do you feel about Hermione?"

"She's my best friend," he answered automatically.

His mother gave him a long measuring glance.

"That is not what I asked, how do you feel about her?"

Draco frowned and considered this.

"Well, I like her, she's great. I mean she's brilliant and fun, and she has such a Slytherin streak, even if nobody else sees it," he smirked, the witch really could be ruthless, "Like I said, she's my best friend."

"But is that all?" his mother persisted.

"What do you mean?"

"I rather thought you were beginning to have deeper feelings for her, more romantic feelings."

Draco felt his face begin to flush.

"Mother…" he started to object.

"May I ask you another question?" she asked, as if she hadn't even heard him.

"Okay," he swallowed nervously, there was no escaping this conversation, his mother was like a dog with a bone.

"You are about to enter your third year, you'll be able to visit Hogsmeade. I know that you're excited about the experience, I also know that you're aware that students often use the opportunity to take others on dates."

"Well, yes, of course that's true," he said, no longer following her train of thought.

"How would it make you feel if Hermione was asked, and agreed to visit the village with another wizard?"

Draco was momentarily stunned, and then rage unlike anything he'd ever felt before flooded his system. He viciously bit his lip and dropped his utensils to grip the arms of his chair in an effort to stop himself from storming away from the table to go after this hypothetical wizard.

He saw his parents exchange an amused glance and tried to school his expression but, strangely, he didn't feel ashamed of his reaction.

"Oh Son," his father chuckled, "you should see your face."

"My dragon," his mother said softly, "perhaps you could consider the idea that Hermione means more to you than just a friend.

"Mother," he objected.

"No, dearest," she interrupted tersely, "she is a beautiful and powerful witch. If you wait too long you will miss your chance."

Draco was brought up short.

"It is quite common in our family to discover our spouses at a young age," his father interjected.

Draco's mind was racing. It's not like he'd never considered Hermione in such a way, both of his parents had mentioned it on multiple occasions, but when it came down to it, he'd thought he'd have more time to figure things out.

He hadn't thought about other wizards, about Hogsmeade's visits. He hadn't anticipated the desire to destroy things at the very thought that she might agree to go on one of those visits with anybody other than him.

Which had been foolish of him, in retrospect. His mother was right, Hermione was beautiful and powerful, and even more wonderful than she seemed at first, once you got to know her. Just because he hadn't noticed other wizards looking at her in that way didn't mean they wouldn't, and soon.

And if they made a move before he did, well then what would she think? He was her best friend, after all. He should be the one to notice her first if he was interested. So, she would probably decide that he wasn't interested if he said nothing.

Which was a big problem, Draco realized all of a sudden, because he was interested. He really, really was.

As if on cue Evie popped into the room.

"Master, Mistress, Master Draco," she addressed them in turn, "Miss Hermione has arrived."

Hermione no longer needed an escort so she'd be making her way into the room any moment. The fact that Evie, the elf marked to one day take care of his wife, was the one who usually saw to Hermione's needs, suddenly had a whole new meaning. The elves did tend to just know things.

Hermione entered the room then, a bounce to her step and a large smile on her face. It was all Draco could do to keep his mouth from falling open.

She looked like Hermione, but better. She was wearing a deep blue dress which revealed more of her figure than usual. At Hogwarts she was always covered from head to toe, even out of her robes the only bit of skin that was ever visible were her knees. But even over the summer she usually dressed more conservatively.

Now he could see what all that material had been covering; she had curves. And they were distracting. He tried to keep his eyes from drifting to the rather low cut neckline of her dress, but they didn't seem to want to obey him.

He did notice that she had a lovely tan, her skin was several shades darker than normal, and it almost seemed to glow. There were streaks of gold running through her hair which he'd never seen before; perhaps they were another effect of being in the sun. They shown in the bright light of the breakfast room. She also smiled so much more now since the beginning of the summer when she and his mother had finally convinced her parents to allow her to alter her teeth with magic; she'd been so self-conscious about them. The cumulative effect was all very...pretty.

She approached his parents first, and they rose to greet her. His mother embraced her and kissed her on both cheeks. She walked towards his father without hesitation and wrapped her arms around his waist. He stiffened and the whole room seemed to freeze for a moment, until he wrapped his arms around her and bent to kiss her forehead.

"Hello, Mignonette," he greeted.

She went up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

She then turned towards Draco and grinned. She took a step towards him before visibly hesitating, but then she lifted her chin and walked into his arms. Sooner than he would have liked she pulled away.

He fought away his disappointment; she was hardly ever the one to pull away first.

"Hello Draco," she said quietly, peering up at him through her lashes.

He wasn't sure when he'd gotten to be so much taller than her. He was sure they'd been roughly the same height when they'd become friends. It was startling and he felt something well up inside of him, some urge to protect her maybe? She was so small. He'd have to keep that under wraps, she'd throttle him just for the thought.

"Hi," he responded, rather stupidly.

They just stood there staring at each other until his mother interrupted. Right, his parents were still in the room. Great.

"Have you had breakfast Hermione?" she called.

Hermione bit her lip and turned to face his parents, "No, actually I was hoping to eat here, I've missed Jema's breakfasts. I hope that's okay, I'm early enough, aren't I?"

"Of course dear, you know you're always welcome here, and you're in plenty of time."

They settled around the table, and much to Raffie's irritation Jema came in from the kitchen to bring Hermione a plate and welcome her back. She chatted to his parents about her holiday but she didn't say much to him, and she seemed to be avoiding his gaze. Or maybe he was just paranoid because he felt hyper aware of her all of the sudden.

"Well, we'll leave you two to catch up, we can do some work after lunch," his mother said when the meal was concluded, and then his parents rose in concert and swept out of the room before anybody could say anything else.

Draco sat stunned. They were alone.

"I guess it's just you and me then," she echoed his thoughts.

He turned to look at her at the sound of her voice, she was biting her lip again. Had she always done that?

He nodded, and stood, extending a hand to her. She looked down at it, contemplating it, and then instead of taking it she stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist more tightly than before.

He held her for a few moments, and as wonderful as it was to feel and smell her again, he regrettably pulled away when he realized that those newly discovered curves of hers were having an even more pronounced effect on him when they were pressed against him.

"I really missed you," she confessed.

He cleared his throat, "me too. Come on, let's go find a place to talk," he extended his hand again, and this time she took it.

As an experiment he twisted it within her grip and intertwined their fingers more intimately. She looked at him questioningly, but just gave him a squeeze which he took to mean that it was okay. He led her out of the room and considered his options. The library, as much as they both loved it was too public, all of their favorite places outside seemed too far away, and both of their rooms also seemed somehow wrong. And then he thought of the perfect place.

There was an out of the way alcove in their family wing. It was surrounded on three sides by windows. He'd discovered it as a child and fallen asleep curled up on the floor in the warm sunshine. The elves had discovered him and been appalled at the sight of the little master on the ground, but he'd loved the cozy nook and often returned; so they'd built him a cushioned window seat. And he'd frequented it ever since.

When he'd shown it to Hermione she'd been delighted with the bright comfy place. She'd even liked his stacks of books tucked into the corners. And while it was technically out in the open, his parents respected it as his space and would let them be.

They walked along quietly, she swung their arms happily between them. He didn't tease her about it as he usually would have. He was too busy panicking because he knew with an inexplicable certainty that he had to say something to her, something to indicate how he felt, that it was urgent. But at the same time nothing had ever frightened him more.

"I like your hair," she said after they'd settled into his nook, she was leaning against him, still holding his hand.

He ran his other hand through the new, shorter cut. He'd seen the style while in America and decided to give it a try. Claire had been teasing him about how much gel he used on his hair for years. This shorter look kept his hair out of his eyes without the aid of product.

"Thanks, I thought it looked, I don't know, more grown up."

She nodded in agreement, "it's very handsome," she said, barely above whisper.

He grinned to himself, but before he could say anything she began nattering on again.

"How was your trip with your father? I imagine it was fascinating. Did you learn a lot about his business?" she asked cheerily, but her voice sounded strange.

"It was good," he said offhandedly, "Hermione, can I ask you a question?" he blurted.

She giggled.

"Of course, you don't have to ask if you can ask me a question Draco."

He huffed out a breath, he was already bumbling this. There was a reason he hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor. Still, he steeled his resolve.

"Mother was talking about something this morning. Did you know that we get to make trips into Hogsmeade this year?"

"Oh yes! I'm so excited, I've heard wonderful things from the older students. It's the only all-magical village in Britain, you know. Do you think it will be like Diagon Alley?" she burst out exuberantly.

He just blinked at her.

"Um, I think it's quieter," he said, a little dumbfounded; sometimes her unparalleled enthusiasm for almost everything still threw him.

"That's what you wanted to ask me?" she asked with a disbelieving giggle.

Onwards he bumbled.

"Well sort of, did you know that sometimes people go together?"

She frowned, "well, sure, I don't think I'd much like wandering the village alone," she said slowly, clearly communicating that she thought he was being rather stupid.

He shook his head even as she was speaking.

"No, that's not what I meant. I meant like sometimes a wizard will ask a witch to accompany him."

Her eyes lit up in understanding.

"Oh you mean like a date!"

"Yes, exactly like that. I, um, I was just wondering if you think that you'll do that?"

The frown was back.

"Go on a date?"

He nodded and she considered it.

"Well, I hope I will one day. But for now I'll probably just go with Harry and Ron, you know, as friends. I don't think there are any boys interested in me like that."

"But what if there were?" he insisted.

She looked away from him, "well I guess that would depend on who it was," she said in an oddly small voice.

He bit his lip to keep from huffing in frustration.

"But there are guys you would be interested in?" he demanded, more harshly than intended.

She whipped her head back around to look at him, "what are you getting at Draco?" she was obviously close to tears, and he couldn't stand it.

"What if it was me, what if I wanted you to go to Hogsmeade with me?" he exclaimed.

She tilted her head, examining him, "But we can't go to Hogsmeade," she responded.

"Hermione!" he roared in frustration, because she wasn't this thick, "what if we could?" he pressed.

"If we could go to Hogsmeade and you asked me?"

"Yes," he breathed out through his nose.

"As more than just friends?" she clarified.

He closed his eyes, "yes," he couldn't look at her.

There was a long pause, longer Draco was sure, than he'd ever experienced in his life.

"I would say yes, definitely."

One beat, then two as he absorbed this.

Then his eyes flew open and his mouth was curving into an embarrassingly large grin, which she matched with a surprisingly impish one of her own.

"Really?"

"Really," she confirmed.

They chuckled together for a moment in mutual understanding and embarrassment.

"But Draco, like I said, we can't go to Hogsmeade, we can't be seen together like that," she lamented.

"I know," he said sadly.

She eyed him, and then the impish grin returned, "but we could maybe try being more than just friends," she suggested with cautious eyes.

"How would that work?" he asked carefully, this all seemed to be working out too well.

She shrugged, "I don't know, but it's us, we could figure it out, right?" and then she suddenly became very shy, "I mean if you want," she finished hesitantly.

"I want," he responded immediately, "but I don't want things to be weird between us."

She tilted her head, seeming to become lost in thought. Then she did the oddest thing, she made a fist and held it out towards him with just her pinky finger sticking out.

"What are you doing?" he grimaced at her weird behavior.

"It's a muggle thing called a pinky promise, we link pinkys and make the promise, and then kiss our hands to seal it. I propose that we promise that things won't get weird, and that we'll always be friends, no matter what."

"That seems really odd. We could just make a wand oath," he countered, eyeing her hand speculatively.

She shook her head vigorously, "I don't want us to be magically bound to this, I just want your word."

She looked at him with that familiar gaze, begging him to understand.

So he considered this odd muggle request, feeling touched at the sentiment, and then nodded in agreement. He followed her instructions and they sealed their vow to each other.

"So friends, and also more than friends," she grinned at him.

"Well, we did pinky promise," he teased with a smirk.

She looked at him with such a wonderful smile of delight on her face that he almost wanted to kiss her. But he'd more than depleted his reserves of bravery for the day, possibly for the year, so he didn't.

But then she laughed and snuggled into his side and the icy fear in his veins melted away. He settled his arm around her. They could do this.

Downstairs in Lucius' study Narcissa canceled the monitoring charm and let out an undignified squeal.

"Well, that was positively uncomfortable to witness," Lucius commented drily.

"Oh hush, it was adorable," Narcissa answered as she rushed towards the door.

"Where are you going?" he wondered.

"To owl Helen of course, I have to tell her about this! Oh," she sighed dreamily, "we are going to have the most beautiful, gifted grandchildren."

She was fanning herself dramatically as she left the room. When the door closed behind her with a decisive 'click' Lucius allowed himself a moment of reflection, his eyes lifted towards the heavens and he sighed.

"Gods help me live to see it," he whispered into the ether.

Author's Note: I know this is a big time jump, and that there have been several over the past few chapters. But given the changes I've made to the timeline I saw no reason to trudge through a second year where very little happened. I hope I've filled in the gaps so that it isn't confusing. If it is, feel free to ask!

If you're so inclined I've written a festive one-shot called 'The Method to Their (Christmas) Madness,' and I would love for you to check it out, I'm very fond of it. Happy Holidays to you wonderful people!