"Ron..." Harry's voice held a cold warning edge to it, "Either sit down and join us, or leave."
"Piss off, Harry!" Ron sneered angrily, "You don't get to tell me what to do."
"He's right, Ron." Neville piped in, his own expression clearly unhappy. "Now's not the time, mate."
Ron turned the full weight of his stare onto Hermione, and she sighed, "Ronald, you're welcome to join us."
"How kind of you, Lady Alphonse..."
The last two words were hissed with such venom, it caused Hermione to flinch, but Harry stood up in a flash, and stared his best mate down.
"You're acting like a right wanker, mate. This is not the time for you to go off on one of your infamous temper tantrums. If you can't behave, Ron—piss off and cool down, or you and me can take this outside."
Ron paled at the ferocity of his best friend's expression, and when he glanced back over to Hermione, he could see her gripping her own wand tightly.
And he felt his anger deflate somewhat.
"Am I supposed to just be alright with the fact that Mione kept her true identity hidden from us for years?"
"That's up to you, mate," Harry began, "but if the roles were reversed, how do you think Hermione would be taking it?"
Ron's brow furrowed, then his anger deflated completely, as he replied, "She'd support us no matter what."
"Exactly." Harry bit back, waving his hand for Ron to take a seat, which he did.
Once settled, blue eyes turned to his other best friend and he queried, "Is it really true?"
"Is what true?" Hermione asked, not wanting to assume that she knew what Ron was referring to, although she had a pretty good idea what he was asking.
"Malfoy?"
"Yes."
"Bugger."
"That was my reaction as well." She admitted with a small smile.
"And there's no way..."
"No, Ron—there really isn't. Blood contract, meted out by our ancestors. Believe me, if there were a way I could get out of this farce, I would."
"I know," he shook his head morosely, "I'll bet the ferret was shocked as all get out."
"He was," Hermione sighed heavily, "and no more happy about this than I am. Apparently, he was hoping to court someone else."
"Who?" Neville asked stunned, as if he couldn't believe there was actually a witch who'd be interested in the ferret.
"Astoria Greengrass." Hermione offered softly, trying not to visibly wince at the name. She'd been thinking quite a bit lately about the witch, and her possible predicament. It didn't make it any easier to realize that Astoria must be quite the person, if Malfoy cared enough to offend her with the express purpose of using her research to try and help said witch.
Whether or not Astoria ended up actually being afflicted with the maledictus curse, was another issue altogether.
"She's rather an okay sort, for a Slytherin." Luna replied airily. "She's not like those in her House. She's never been unkind to half-bloods nor Muggle-borns."
"Really?" Harry's tone was clearly disbelieving. "That doesn't sound like someone Malfoy would be interested in?"
Luna shrugged, but didn't elaborate...however, Ron just scoffed.
"He was dating Parkinson at one point, and we all know her views on blood purity."
Everyone grimaced at the mention of Pansy Parkinson. It was no secret the Slytherin witch was as bigoted as they come, but her outburst during the final battle, and willingness to give up the Chosen One, had leaked out to the press, and she'd been utterly vilified for it.
No one had seen, nor heard from her since the end of the war.
"Let's change the subject," Hermione pleaded, "I'd rather not spend my afternoon with my friends, discussing Malfoy and his lot."
"Here, here." Neville raised his mug of butterbeer in agreement, followed by everyone else. "Are you really sure you're not going to head back to Hogwarts, Hermione to finish your NEWTS?"
"Yes, Neville. Professor McGonagall is allowing me to take them via correspondence, which I'm grateful for. I'm starting my own Mastery internship in September, so I'll need to finish my exams, and have the results before I start in earnest."
"With whom?" Ron asked, visibly shocked that his best friend wouldn't be returning to school.
"Nicolas Flamel."
Harry smirked when three sets of eyes all widened in awe.
"Blimey!" Ron whistled in wonder, "But he doesn't take on apprentices!"
"No, he never has but due the destruction of the Sorcerer's Stone, Ron—his time is coming to a close. He has enough elixir left for he and his wife for another couple years, maybe? Enough time, he hopes, to impart his knowledge to me."
"Why you?" Neville asked, "Not that you're not brilliant, Hermione—but I didn't know you had an interest in Alchemy. It wasn't like you had a chance to take it at Hogwarts."
"No, unfortunately not. But I've done a bit of light reading on the subject throughout the years, since first year, and have maintained a friendly correspondence with Master Flamel since then. He was impressed with my eagerness to learn, and he knows I'm not the kind of witch to seek out learning Alchemy for personal gain. I think that has always been his overriding reason for not taking on an apprentice."
"I could see that," Harry nodded sagely, "he'd have to be very careful in whom he trusted with that kind of knowledge."
"Yes."
"Why are you here in Hogsmeade, mate?" Ron asked Harry lowly, his gaze flittering to Hermione for a split second.
"I had an errand to do, and Hermione offered to come with me."
"Oh?"
"Yes, Ron. It's personal. I'll talk to you about it some other time, alright?"
"Fine."
It clearly wasn't fine, based on how Ron was pouting, but Harry just rolled his eyes and decided to change the subject.
After another round of butterbeer and a few more plates of crisps, it was time for Hermione to head home.
"I need to get back, Harry."
Harry stood up immediately, helped Hermione to her feet, before nodding to his friends.
"I'll see you home."
"I'll come too." Ron made to stand, but Harry's hand on his shoulder halted his progress.
"Mate? Hermione's father is very particular in whom he allows through the wards of their home. I don't think it's a good idea to go barreling your way into some place you haven't been formally invited to, yet."
Ron's expression darkened, but Hermione sighed and nodded.
"Harry's right, but I'll ask and see if you all can come for a visit later this summer? I'm sure you'd love the greenhouses, Neville and there are some interesting magical creatures on the property, Luna—and there's even a lake for swimming!"
Neville and Luna smiled and nodded their assent, while Ron just seemed put out at having to wait.
"Let it go, mate." Neville placed a strong hand on Ron's shoulder. "Don't be a git."
"Piss off, Neville."
"We're going to go." Harry interrupted, not wanting to stay any longer than he had to. Hermione had the stone and Elder wand in her beaded bag, and they needed to figure out where they were going to put them. He took Hermione's hand and they went over to the Hogs Head, as Aberforth still had access to Diagon Alley. From there it was a short apparition to Grimmauld Place and they could floo to Hermione's home from there.
One of the perks of being the Chosen One, was having a permanent international floo permit.
As they made their way down High Street, both friends ignored the interested stares from those they'd walked past. In the distance they could barely make out Hogwarts Castle, as repairs were being done to try and have the castle ready for students come September First.
About thirty minutes later, they were back in France.
"Well, that went well." Harry deadpanned, causing Hermione to giggle softly.
"Ron can be such a prat."
"He can."
The sound of footsteps heading their way, halted their conversation momentarily, and Hermione smiled when her Father came into view.
However, the strained expression on his face had her backtracking a bit.
"Papa?"
"Hello, Angel. Did you find what you were looking for?"
"Yes."
"Good. I'm afraid we've been invited to Malfoy Manor this evening for dinner."
"Excuse me?" Harry's voice was tight, grabbing Hermione's hand tighter and feeling her distress at the mention of the hated place of her torture.
"Yes, and I'm afraid as much as I abhor the idea, Harry—apparently there is something of great importance that needs to be discussed. You've been invited as well."
Harry blanched, and one look at his best friend, let him know that Hermione was just as confused as he was.
What in the world, could Lucius Malfoy have to say to him?
"Do we need to dress for dinner, Papa?"
"You know the answer to that, Angel." Pierre replied stoically, giving Harry a once over. "Do you have any formal robes, Harry?"
"Not really, Sir. Living out on the run in a tent for nine months, doesn't exactly fit in with fancy dinners and formal social events."
Pierre chuckled deeply.
"No matter, Jean Paul can help you. He's a master at Transfiguration and can alter most anything to fit. I'm sure we can work something out. Dinner will be at seven, which means you have about four hours. You might have enough time to go back to Diagon Alley to find something suitable?"
Harry sighed, but nodded in understanding. "I think I'll be able to find something." He glanced at Hermione and smirked, "See you in a few hours?"
"Promise?"
Cupping her left cheek tenderly, Harry shook his head slightly as he replied with all due seriousness, "There is absolutely no way I would ever allow you to step foot in that infernal place again, unless I was by your side."
Her responding smile was beaming, and he kissed her cheek before nodding to Pierre and then left to go find something suitable to wear.
After Harry was gone, Hermione glanced over at her Father, who was watching her closely.
"That young wizard adores you, Angel."
"I know, Papa. I feel very much the same."
Pierre sighed, but didn't comment, before he left the receiving room. Hermione gazed off unseeingly into the hearth for a few moments, feeling a leaded weight settling into the pit of her stomach.
She didn't want to go back to Malfoy Manor, but apparently, there was nothing for it.
She just hoped that she could make it through the next few hours with her sanity intact. There was no telling how this night would go, and for a moment she had to wonder just what was so important, that it affected both she and Harry...
...and Draco?
Shaking her head, she decided a nice, long, hot bubble bath was in order.
And maybe a healthy shot or two of firewhiskey...
It was about two hours later that she was dressed for their excursion over to Malfoy Manor, and as much as she was loathe to return to the place of her torture, she knew on a deeper level that she couldn't avoid the place forever.
She was to be the next Lady Malfoy, whether she wanted the title or not, and she most definitely did not...
It didn't change her reality however.
Grabbing her beaded bag, she took out the Resurrection Stone, and placed it inside the same warded box that she kept Master Flamel's scrolls and books. She knew it would be safe there for the time being, and when it was secure, she placed the box into the safe hidden behind a small portrait hanging on the wall to the left of her bed.
It was a picture of she and her Mum, on her fifth birthday.
Leaving her room, she had to wonder what this evening would bring. As volatile as her past with Malfoy was, it was nothing compared to the dynamic he had with Harry. It would be a miracle if the two of them didn't end up killing each other by night's end.