This chapter is dedicated to my lovely daughter Larrissa. She is my own beautiful, curly haired, wide eyed, book loving, collector of knowledge. The Hermione in this story is inspired by her, so who better to help me get back on track and get to writing this story again. Thank you daughter dear, for getting me writing again, for helping me map out the next arc of the story, for being my muse.


Being Harry Potter's friend and teacher's pet did not prepare her for the notoriety of being Draco Malfoy's girl. She was used to being famous. She was even used to being deferred to. She'd never been feared. Certainly not by Gryffindors. At first she thought nothing of it. The common room cleared out the second she stepped foot inside, but it was Sunday and maybe people were either sleeping or busy. Odd, but not unheard of. Then she noticed how people scattered when she walked down the hall. She arrived at breakfast and boys she'd known for years got up and offered her their seats. No one made eye contact. Within the span of a piece of toast she was alone at the table. She felt like she had an infectious disease: it was downright unsettling.

Her day got no better. Ronald had gone off to do interviews with all the major papers regarding the shady money trail associated with the marriage law, so she was on her own. Really on her own. She kept trying to tell people that they had the wrong idea, but no one was really talking to her. The second she opened her mouth people made polite excuses and scattered like smoke. The library had never been so peaceful. She had the great lake to herself. Lunch was a solitary affair.

The only person willing to make eye contact had been Malfoy. Striding down the hall full of purpose, stretching out those long legs of his as if he had somewhere important to be, yet his speed did not mask his slight limp. She frowned as he got closer and she couldn't help but notice a light bruising on one high cheekbone, an awkwardness to the way he held his arm to his body. Had he been fighting? She slowed and would have stopped to question him if he hadn't realized she was in the hall and suddenly focused his considerable intensity on her. Even from a distance she could practically feel his gaze on her as he gave her an affectionate once over and a smooth warm smile. She perhaps should have stayed and had her questions answered, but suddenly she wasn't ready to see him and had no idea what she should say or how she should behave. So instead of a conversation, she veered in the other direction rather than make casual contact with him in the hall.

It was almost a relief to be cornered in the bathroom by Pansy and her friends. At least they acknowledged her existence. She looked up from the sink to find herself quite literally surrounded by the Slytherin and her little cohort. Since she couldn't remember a time in recent memory that Pansy had even spoken to her, much less sought her out, she was promptly startled.

"Granger," the girl greeted, giving her a little nod. Hermione had never felt less welcome in her life. She stepped sideways, trying to make a path to get out without looking like she was running but there was no way to get by without shoving. Pansy pulled out a lipstick and leaned towards the sink to give her lips a fresh swipe before going on. "It won't work, you know, this game you are playing."

The silence stretched a little too long before she replied, but she couldn't think of a proper answer to the statement. She opened her mouth to finally say something but Pansy went on with a little smirk as she examined an eyeliner before touching up a flawless bottom lid. "Still, I must admit I am impressed. It would never have occurred to me to attempt such a ploy on Draco of all people in the first place."

Tracey Davis gave a dramatic sigh. "Draco ought to know better. He's had women throwing themselves at his feet since he could walk, he ought to see right through her little damsel routine." Hermione had never had a moments quarrel with Tracy in all of her eight years at Hogwarts, but the girl gave her a downright foul look oozing with cattiness that Hermione had no idea how to quantify.

Pansy turned from the mirror abruptly, giving her friend a brittle smile that did not match the cold determination in her eyes. "Oh you know how men are," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "When someone new catches their eye, they always somehow manage to convince themselves that this girl is different, unique. Draco will wise up soon enough, I've no doubt about that, Granger doesn't have the killer instinct to close the deal."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Hermione began in an attempt to shut down this weird interrogation before things went too far. She was interrupted by Pansy's little ladylike snort that she used like a weapon when being mean to other girls.

"Please don't be coy," the girl aimed a red lipped smile at Hermione so sharp it could have cut glass. "Your honesty is one of the few traits I actually admire about you. Girls all over Hogwarts are weeping in their Cheeriowls. Who'd have thought Hermione Granger would ever have Draco Malfoy on a string? I must admit it's downright fascinating to watch."

Much to Hermione's mortification she could feel a blush rising in her cheeks and the overwhelming urge to look away , but she wouldn't give Pansy the satisfaction of knowing that she was embarrassed. "I mean really, you ought to teach a class. Girls would pay good money to learn how to look at a man the way you look at him."

What? Hermione shook her head in denial and Pansy gave another little snotty laugh. "Blushing cheeks, downswept eyes, just a little breathless. And then you can't help it but look back up at him with those big luminous eyes, glistening just a bit with the light of fascination, biting that very kissable lip and drawing his attention down...it's masterfully done. He can't keep his eyes off you."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Hermione denied vehemently, cursing the high pitch of her voice. She knew better than to let these girls know they were getting to her but the words were out before she could censor herself.

Pansy rolled her eyes dramatically and turned back to the mirror to fluff her hair. "I just don't want you getting your hopes up, love, thinking you've managed to win his real affections. You're just a passing fancy, a distraction. When it's time, Draco will settle down and do right by his family - and me."

"I'm not the one standing in the way of your little fantasy future," Hermione bit out, suddenly furious. She didn't have time to deal with Malfoy's slew of past girlfriends. She had important work to be about and didn't appreciate being cornered in the bathroom so Pansy could spout her jealous rantings. "Take it up with the Ministry - I already have."

She shoved past Millicent and Tracey to get to the door but was stopped for a moment by Pansy's shrill voice. "Don't hide behind that stupid little law. The Ministry is no obstacle for people like us and you know it. I'll be there to comfort Draco when the whole thing falls apart and all that's left is just another floozy trying to get her claws in him. Just you wait!"

Hermione glanced over her shoulder one last time and gave Pansy a dismissive once over that if she was honest with herself she would acknowledge she had learned directly from Malfoy, "Sure Pansy, whatever makes you feel better," She didn't know why she let the girl goad her. Later, she'd tell herself it was because she always liked the last word and not because she liked rubbing her engagement in Pansy's face. The truth was subjective and fluid when dealing with matters of the heart anyway. Regardless of her reasons, before she knew what she was doing she was holding up her left hand. "Just remember, I'm the one wearing his ring."

Her hasty exit from the ladies room did not drown out Pansy's angry squeal, and Hermione couldn't help the surge of satisfaction that jolted through her knowing that, for the moment at least, she had one upped that bitch on the social scale. She was sure she'd pay for it later somehow, but for now it was worth it to have gotten a few jabs in.

She wasn't running away, she told herself as she walked briskly out of Hogwarts double doors and started down the path that would take her past the apparition wards. She could have taken a carriage, used the headmistress's floo, or gone the other way towards Hogsmeade, but she felt she needed a clear head for her next task and hoped the thirty minute walk would muck out the cobwebs and help her get her thoughts in order. She didn't need to be mooning about her boy problems while she was dealing with her parents. Her mother would sniff out a boy issue faster than you could say 'Quidditch' and she wanted to focus on their relationship. If her planned visit to her parents delayed any Pansy backlash unpleasantness, well that was just an unexpected bonus.

Apparation was unpleasant but Hermione felt a reassuring sense of independence every time she relied on her own magic to take her where she needed to go. She wasn't a child who had to depend on others' goodwill to get around anymore. And if she was smart about it, and apparated in stages as she chose to do today, it wasn't nearly as bad.

Her parents were of course delighted to see her when she arrived, sitting around the breakfast table having a leisurely spot of Sunday brunch. Mum was doing a bit of crochet, her father perusing dental quarterly and reading the interesting bits out loud. It was a scene she'd witnessed a million times, and it ought to feel familiar and warm, but there was just the slightest tightness around her mum's eyes, her fathers hug was stiff and quick. Still, they tried, and it wasn't two heartbeats before she had a cup of tea and a plate sitting between them at the table.

It could have been a nice visit, polite and pleasant and short, if her other visits were any indication. But she was done running from her past and her transgressions. If she wanted to build herself back up, be the woman that she chose to be, she needed a solid foundation. That was what these people were supposed to be. Twin pillars of love and life. So she pulled the box in her pocket out and placed it on the table. She ignored the flinch from her mother and her fathers angry frown when she got out her wand and enlarged the box with a practiced flourish and a muttered word.

Her mothers fear evaporated with a gasp when the contents of the box overflowed onto the table in a jumble. She snatched a silver framed picture from the fray lightning quick and then held it to her breast lovingly. It was a newborn picture, Hermione with her father, and apparently cherished. "I thought we'd lost these, destroyed by your magic!" She whispered, sorting through the pile feverishly. Her father too, was engaged, digging, looking for specific mementos.

She'd planned a little speech, an apology, promises. Instead she sat silent for the most part as her parents told her story in a way she'd never heard, from the eyes of people who loved her. She was mesmerized by the crispness of memory, the genuine affection and love in their voices, the myriad of things she'd half forgotten until her mom or her dad selected a trinket or photo or art piece from the pile and started to reminisce.

Intellectually she knew the power of these objects. Muggle though they were, they were infused with the most amazing and powerful type of magic. Magic that had saved Harry Potter from the killing curse, magic that had protected him his whole life, magic that was intangible and all consuming and unfathomable and vast. The awe-inspiring and transcendent power of love. But to see it, to see her mother's eyes light up with the glow of recollection, to watch her associate that memory with her, to watch that love fill her up and spill onto Hermione: it wrecked her.

She floo'd to her old room in her old house, not quite ready to return to Hogwarts, and sank to her knees and wept with the pure joy of it. Her parents, coming back to her. Their love awakening and becoming real once again. And not just them, herself. She hadn't realized how removed from them she felt until the dam burst and true feelings made the obligation and pity she felt pale in comparison.

The truly earth-shattering revelation however, was that she had wanted to apparate to Hogwarts and share this revelation with Draco. To share how the path of knowledge changed her life, changed her fundamental understanding of her own magic, and allowed her to tap into her elemental self to push beyond what books and journals and staid old wizards said was possible. She'd consulted dozens of experts who all told her there was nothing to be done. But the clearance of her mind, the awakening of her magical awareness, had allowed Hermione insight that had brought her parents back to her. It was an overwhelming and incalculatable gift and she wanted to fall into his arms and sob her gratefulness and forgiveness. Her parents had forgiven her, who was she to withhold such blessings?

After a while she came to her senses and used her uninterrupted time in her favorite space to complete some homework, work on her various lawsuits, and meditate on her magic so as to return to Hogwarts clear-headed and tired out. She trekked up the extra set of stairs to her private room and found a gift box placed precisely in the middle of her pillow. Two lovely combs for her hair, silver set with emerald stones, and a simple note in Draco's now familiar hand. It was unsigned and unembellished, just letting her know that the combs were specially charmed not to get tangled in her curls.

Hermione threw herself back on her bed, allowing herself a dramatic sigh, clutching the note in one trembling hand. This lent a new level of complication to the problem she had been purposefully avoiding thinking about all day. She'd read all about pureblood courting rituals when she had been considering getting engaged. Expensive gifts were not only expected, but damn near required for a successful courtship.

That boy had no business courting her. This was a business arrangement, strictly pragmatic. Even as she thought it she knew that was a lie. He'd implied he would back off. No wait, no he hadn't, Hermione realized, he said he'd leave her to make up her mind, he hadn't said he wouldn't pursue her.

She hated it when she argued with herself. It made it impossible to turn off her mind and get some rest.

Why had he been so beat up today? Injuries were rare around Hogwarts, as most scrapes, bruises or bumps could be healed by Madam Pomfrey with a quick spell. Maybe he'd been on his way to the Mediwitch? But he'd been in the wrong part of the castle heading in the wrong direction. And what was wrong with her that she found a slightly battered Draco insanely attractive? Apparently she had watched too many Muggle TV dramas over the summer and needed to get a grip on reality. In the real world bruises hurt, they were in no way sexy.

And that smile he had given her, warm and welcoming and open - completely opposite of his icy cold manner in the garden the day before. Did that mean he had forgiven her for irritating him? Or was this just another way he was courting her and underneath he was still angry? Why did it matter? Was she seriously sitting here contemplating pursuing something physical with Draco? Their engagement was temporary; he was forced into celibacy and likely bored, and apparently found her attractive enough to pursue if she was literally his only option.

She suddenly sat up and opened the box again, taking out the lovely hair jewelry within. They were beautiful. Delicate silver wings with lovely scattered stones, big enough to contain her curls without being gaudy. They were obviously selected with her in mind but that didn't mean that Draco was considering seriously pursuing her. She was making assumptions again. These combs were meant to be worn publicly, and they were in the middle of a very public engagement, and a very public challenge to the law. Draco wanted to appear to be in complete compliance and publicly courting her was a part of that.

It wasn't personal. She didn't need to be reading things in his motivations that were not there simply because she found herself overwhelmingly attracted to him. She was attracted to the muggle actor Tom Felton too, it didn't mean that she needed to go all mooney-eyed. The only real decision was whether or not to wear the combs and publicly accept him, or to reject him and put a nastier spin on her lawsuit. She didn't need to be wasting her time daydreaming about some boy when there was serious work to be done dismantling this ridiculous law. She might have managed to dodge the worst of it by getting engaged, but Muggleborns all over the country were being pressured and pursued by some of the worst people on the planet due to this downright nasty legislation. Getting the law dismissed before permanent damage was done to hundreds of lives was much more important than sitting around wondering whether the boy who said he wanted to kiss her wanted to do so for the right reasons.

She was getting to be as bad as Lavender Brown.

She tossed the combs back in their box and got up to change into her pajamas, resolved firmly in place to ignore Malfoy and his little games. Just because she had let go of all ill thoughts of him and decided to accept him as he was, did not equal a romantic entanglement. She didn't need to go all soft and silly, calling him Draco in her mind and mooning around analyzing every glance he gave her. She needed to keep him firmly labeled as Malfoy, even in her private thoughts. An owl tapped her window causing her to startle so hard she almost leapt out of her skin. Pulling on her nightgown she rushed to the window to let in the trio of owls she found hovering outside, two of them burdened with a package. She dug around for treats, fussing the whole time that the package was clearly too large for owl post and fully intending to give the sender an earful. A lightening spell may have made the package more transportable for the owls but it was awkward for them to fly in tandem like this and risk injury.

She recognized Malfoy's penmanship on the letter the third owl was carrying and was not surprised at his inconsiderate nature. So hidebound by tradition that he didn't think twice about another way to send a package. They were in the same damn school; he could have passed her whatever it was by hand, sent a courier, sent a house elf, any number of ways besides burdening two poor owls. She ripped open the package with irritated motions to reveal a huge, but rather lovely, book with a silver cover, no title, simply an infinity sign embossed on the spine. Her curiosity piqued, Hermione let the owls out before closing the window and briskly using her thumb to open the letter

Hermione,

I've received an official correspondence from Madame Zabini relinquishing any 'implied' claim on you and giving us best wishes. If Blaise hasn't been officially reprimanded and told to back off, we are supposed to at least believe that is what happened. My people tell me that you were all but promised to the boy in exchange for support on the Armistice legislation and that now we can expect neither support nor resistance from that corner. Blaise maintains he never wanted to harm you, he was just trying to get you out of the castle to have you magically examined in order to 'save' you from me. We know that is at least partially a lie because your protective magics responded to harmful intentions when Blaise touched you. The 'bodyguard' is in ministry custody, just as you requested. My dungeon would have been a better place for him, but I'm attempting compromise.

The challenge to the law will be officially filed tomorrow. My lawyers were as gleeful as I've ever seen them with all the evidence provided by the Zabini attack, adding proof that Muggleborns are in danger from Pureblood zealotry due to this law. I think that is an untruthful spin; I don't think that your Muggleborn status was the impetus for the attack, but do try to refrain from defending the boy, as we can't afford for you to publicly undermine our efforts on the dismantling of the law. There are consequences, and being named a bigot for attacking a Muggleborn should have been something that Blaise considered in advance.

In a way I'm glad things stand the way they do. I frightened you the other day. With Blaise. It wasn't the first time I've lost my temper because of you. I thought I'd outgrown this, matured, walked the path of knowledge and chosen to be different. Enacting clear and brutal consequences for tampering with you was necessary for your continued safety but I find that the last thing I want to do is scare you. Once upon a time it was my big ambition to be feared and respected. Now the very thought of you not trusting me completely makes me sick. At least know that.

Stole a book from my own library and smuggled it into the school for you. It's only forbidden because it's so old that the line between light and dark magic had not yet been so clearly defined. I have no doubt you could never be seduced by the darker arts, your magic is too pure, too bright. It'd burn out any ill intention, and I think you'll find it a fascinating read. Please remember that my family trades in secrets and knowledge so please keep any lore you suspect to yourself.

Also, just in case no one has told you, you looked lovely today.

Draco

Hermione turned eagerly to the book, gently opening the cover, her plans for sleep forgotten as she quickly scanned the contents. Fascinating read indeed. Filled with handwritten spells, gossamer pages overflowing with magical theory, magical discoveries detailed from the perspective of the practitioner. Signed by, goodness gracious, Merlin himself. Priceless. She had never heard about such a volume, so much could be learned from these pages. It needed to be typeset, copied, placed in libraries all over the world…

If he'd meant her a distraction he certainly succeeded. She would have to come back to the letter some other time, she was completely captivated by the most fascinating book she had ever read. Her eyes flew over the pages reading quickly and committing to come back and go over each precious word in detail and take copious notes. She could learn more from this one book than a year studying in the Hogwarts library.

Her speed reading stuttered to halt when she started reading about a sacred piece of ground being chosen and blessed and consecrated in Wiltshire. She recognized the description- how could she not when she had been there just recently. The construction of stone arches steeped in the blood of dragons, a pool of pure magic painstakingly farmed from Merlin's own store of magical reserve and hundreds of magical sacrifices reinforced over and over again for decades, a path made from stones meticulously chosen from sacred places and transferred with care. Magical flora and fauna planted and nurtured with extreme dedication. Dozens of years to create a magical test that reckless young wizards and witches on quest attempted and failed so often it became known as Merlin's Gauntlet. Merlin's desire to separate the chaff from the wheat, the worthy to practice magic from the unworthy, how he took no apprentices that didn't survive the arches.

She'd read about the Gauntlet of course, briefly in a history book, though little was known. The book had said no one knew the lost location and implied the Gauntlet may have been a myth, created to add stature to the descendants of Merlin's direct magical apprentices, now commonly known as the sacred 28 families that populated their world. She devoured the information twice more before she closed the book to process what she had read, and more importantly, why.

This was no casual book you'd lend a friend. This was knowledge of incalculable value. She didn't even know half of what was in there but she understood with precise certainty that this was a rare and carefully guarded Malfoy secret. It was not something that she could, or should, produce en masse as she originally thought. And he'd chosen to gift her with it. He'd even said in her letter that his family traded in secrets and knowledge. If he had plucked stars from the sky and made them into a necklace she wouldn't be more stunned.

The hair clips, that was a public courting, no doubt. But Draco Malfoy was leaving nothing to chance. He was making his intentions brutally clear. He might buy her pretty stones to court her publicly because that was expected, but he knew knowledge was what would make her pulse race in private. This gift was intended to show her that he was privately courting her as well.

Courting her and succeeding.


A big Thank You to Laura Sears who rose to the challenge and took time out of her life to go over this chapter and Beta Read. Her help was invaluable and I am deeply appreciative.