Note: I just saw the news report that Queen Elizabeth has died. My heart goes out to the people of the British Commonwealth.

Chapter 5:

32 kilometers out to sea

Hermione had just portkeyed back to Scotland after having spent the day at the place that would forevermore afterwards be her home. The castle of her forefathers was located on an unplottable island somewhere off the coast of France. The ancestral seat of the Rayonnant line both intrigued and terrified her. Appropriately named La Force de Notre Espèce, it was a massive fortress, resplendent and alive with an ancient power. Hermione's skin tingled from the waves of deep magic pulsing from the island that was shrouded by forces that kept all but invited guests out. It was a place half-in and half-out of the mortal world. Its roots were not of the earth but in the sphere where all true magic emanated.

The group of ministers and aurors who had come with her were on hand to assist as she inspected every room and as much of the grounds as time allowed.

The morning hours sped by as she toured the interior of the castle. She wandered through the courtyard, noting how the pavers had been laid out in strangely beautiful patterns. Next, she was shown the grand ballroom, its windows made entirely of gilded crystals. Afterwards, she took to the stairs to check out the private quarters, including a nursery that would have been her first room had her parents not hidden her for a future time.

When it was time to break for lunch, they opted to have it outside on the terrace that overlooked the gardens and beyond them, the ocean, its rhythmic blue swells sparkling like diamonds underneath the noonday sun.

When she could eat no more, Hermione leaned back in the swivel rocker and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth and a full belly. Her breaths grew slower; if she had been alone, she would have taken a nap in the sun while the steady sea breeze played with her hair. Instead, she roused and visited the chambers where she would one day hold court. While there, she tried out the centuries-old throne that would soon be hers. Curiously, another, albeit smaller, throne occupied the room as well. When she asked about it, she was told it was the throne reserved for the consorts of the crown. She blushed thinking what that meant….a future husband….yet something within her ached at the thought, too.

Just before the sunset, she said goodbye to her entourage and portkeyed inside the grounds of Hogwarts, having already been given special permission to do so by the Headmaster. She was excited and nervous and wishing she could share all she had seen and discovered with someone. It was her way; how she'd always been. A talker. A communicator. But there was no one, really…not anymore, unless she counted Blaise. Sighing to herself, she knew she had to accept that things were different. At least, for now. But there was always the possibility they could change...if she gave in.

Her thoughts went back to the conversation she'd had that day with one in her group, the former Minister of France. He was an elderly wizard, about the same age as the headmaster if she had to guess. He'd known her parents and had been a guest to the castle several times. He'd been able to show her around the palace and point out details that others didn't know. Like how the cornerstones of the castle had been inlaid with moonstones.

"Ah yes….now this may interest your Highness," he'd said in his heavily-accented English. "The wishing stone…do you see? When the castle was built, great pains were taken to include moonstone in the foundation."

"Do you know why?"

The look he gave her was enigmatic. "For its properties, Mademoiselle. Peace…love….they wanted those to fill this place. It is a good wish, no? And it was granted in the happy unions that followed."

Other oddities of interest followed. An ancient yew that bloomed, a ship that always found its port, a chamber made of chimes so that the winds could always play their song….Hermione found it all very interesting and the knowledge of what had been done by her family was slowly changing the elvin citadel into an actual home in her mind. During this time, the former minister kept up a steady stream of conversation which included his opinions on many things, not the least of which was her marital status. Of course, they'd been in the nursery when he brought the subject up. How fitting.

"Your Highness, you should not wait long after you are crowned before you choose your Consort," he had advised.

At the time, she'd frowned at the man. Surely, he was jesting. "But I'm only seventeen!"

"Precisely. You are of age. It would not look well to your subjects if you waited."

Hermione's jaw dropped. He was serious.

Sensing her disbelief but misunderstanding its cause, the kindly old wizard tried to reassure her. "Don't fret, my dear. Besides being a powerful sovereign, you are also a very beautiful witch. There will be no lack of those who will want the opportunity to vie for your hand. You will have your pick. Just you wait and see," he grinned, then patted her hand, much like a grandfather would. The smile she gave back was rather brittle, but it hadn't mattered. By that time, he was already telling her of the various nobles who were planning to send petitions for that very thing. Her hand. Marriage.

A consort. A husband. At seventeen?

Hermione shuddered just thinking of it. Who in their right mind thought a seventeen year old was ready for matrimony? And that was not even adding to it the burden that a life of service to the crown would bring. It would be a disaster of monumental proportions.

Huffing at the thought, she decided right then and there that she would not be forced into any union until she was ready. Some in her group were already dropping hints as to what a great match the crown prince of magical Japan would be. Prince Shota Sora had recently graduated from Mahoutokoro Wizarding school and was reputedly one of the best flyers on their Quidditch team, besides being a skilled warrior and a reported genius in translating runic scripts.

But Hermione didn't care about his prowess in the air or his skill with a katana….although she had to admit a proficiency in ancient runes was a point in his favor; she didn't care about political alliances, either. What she wanted was a companion who would face with her all of the changes and challenges that would come. Someone who would understand what it meant to feel one's magic connecting to something so primal….so powerful…..someone who would be sympathetic, yet keep her grounded. Someone who would love her for her, not for her title.

Her thoughts traveled to Blaise. Her estimation of the Italian had grown by leaps and bounds since he'd been appointed as her aide. He was kind and thoughtful; it didn't hurt that he was very handsome, too.

Would we work? Could I learn to love him? she wondered, but as soon as the thought occurred to her, her heart cast it aside.

He would never do…not in that capacity, anyhow. Blaise was calm, controlled…..she could see him in the future becoming her most trusted counselor…..but as a possible life mate? No. He and she were too dissimilar. His detachment, although appreciated in matters of diplomacy, would not suit her when it came to an intimate relationship. There would never be a spark. She needed someone whose intelligence rivaled her own and who could take in stride the demands of royal life and comportment. Someone who would be unafraid to call her on it when she was being unreasonable, yet who would have her back when she needed the support. Someone who had same kind of fire and passion she had and who would love her with that kind of intensity for the rest of their lives. To be cherished like that…..it was what she wanted….what she'd always wanted. Was that too much to ask?

Sighing once more, she disillusioned herself as she made her way up to her lonely rooms, not knowing that the fulfillment of her wishes was already there.

Hogwarts Castle

Hermione tiredly spoke the password to enter her suite. She was fatigued from the day and all she wanted to do that evening was to take a hot bath, then afterward dive into the pages of the thrilling mystery novel she'd started the night before. Therefore, she was startled to find that a group of people were waiting for her when she opened the door to the common room. Was there a meeting she'd forgotten about?

"Professor Dumbledore….what's going on?" she asked as she stared at the curious ensemble in front of her. Along with the Headmaster there was Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape and Madame Pomfrey all sitting together, scrunched up like a packed can of sardines on the small sofa. Sitting on the ottoman in front of the lounge chair was Blaise looking both hopeful and nervous. And reclining in the lounge chair was…..Draco Malfoy?

What was he doing here?

The bane of her existence was wrapped in what appeared to be giant sized bandages that were covering his chest and stomach. An unbuttoned, long sleeved shirt hung loosely on him, highlighting how thin he'd gotten that year. Actually, he looked rather terrible. When he met her eyes, his own showed evidence of…..well, she wasn't sure. Only that they were dull and lifeless, nothing like the snap and fire she was accustomed to from him. They were the eyes of someone who'd had their inner defenses cracked. Draco seemed shattered. Her eyes went back to the dressing around his torso. Clearly, something must have happened. Something bad.

"Your Highness, we apologize for disturbing you this evening, but a serious, pressing matter has arisen where we need your help."

Although Dumbledore was the one who had spoken, it was Draco who still had her attention. He was like a car wreck scattered on a highway; she knew she shouldn't look, but she couldn't stop herself from trying to see the extent of the damage. He truly looked awful. Remembering her manners, she turned back to the professor and said, "Yes, of course. What can I do to help?"

"Mr. Malfoy has a need for extra security for the time being. We would like for him to share these quarters with you, if you will allow it. He would take the spare bedroom, of course, and you would stay in the room you're already using. I'm afraid you would have to share the bathroom, but otherwise there would not be too much difference in your accommodations."

"May I ask what caused this need for extra protection?" Probably the snot mouthed off to the wrong person, she thought ungraciously.

She had no way of knowing how true her thoughts were.

But Draco did. Being a Legilimens, he picked up on what she hadn't said. His face flashed with a familiar anger before dissolving into a hurt so profound he was unable to hide it. Hermione, seeing the change, felt guilty for her attitude. No one deserved abuse. Not even ferrets.

"I will leave that for Mr. Malfoy to share when he is ready to do so," he answered. "For the next few nights, Mr. Zabini will be sharing the quarters with Mr. Malfoy until he can manage once again on his own."

"Oh! Well, would you like me to enlarge the bed in the room? It's only full sized and won't be big enough for the two of them." From what she could tell, Draco would need plenty of space so as not to be accidentally bumped. "Well, actually, now that I think about it…..would adding an additional bed be better? Malfoy probably doesn't need to be jostled."

Minerva and Poppy smiled at Hermione. They were both thinking the same thing; her innate kindness would make her a fair and just queen, one that would undoubtedly become greatly loved by her people.

Dumbledore smiled too, but said, "I will tend to that, your Highness, but thank you for offering and thank you for understanding Mr. Malfoy's needs."

Hermione wanted to say she didn't understand his needs at all; how could she when she didn't know what happened, but instead she merely smiled at the Professor and nodded her head.

All the adults in the room took that as their cue to leave and stood up. Madame Pomfrey gave Hermione a crushing hug, her earnest gratitude surprising the teen, while also telling her the times she would be by to check on Draco and give him his potions. The headmaster kissed her hand while giving her a saucy wink. For the life of her, she couldn't fathom what that was supposed to mean. Minerva pulled her to the side and whispered, "This means more than you realize. I appreciate you giving him a chance."

By that time, Hermione was completely baffled. When had Draco become the teachers' little darling? And all the teary smiles and winks and nods…..it was odd. The last to leave was Professor Snape. Thank goodness, he was acting like the same sullen person she'd always known. He'd stopped to talk as well but only said, "Apparently, it amuses the headmaster to add to my already strenuous workload. He has given me the unenviable task of keeping Mr. Malfoy up on his studies. I am not about to waste my time tutoring you individually, so I will be by each afternoon to see to you both." Looking over Hermione's head to stare at Blaise, he added, "My gift of private lessons does not apply to you, Zabini. I expect to see you in my classroom." And with that, he turned and walked out the door, closing it with a twirl of his finger, making wandless magic look like child's play.

A sudden silence filled the room. Hermione glanced over at her two Slytherin roommates. Now that it was just them, Blaise seemed unsure of what to say while Draco looked downright miserable. But that was alright. Hermione knew what to do. After all, she had been dealing with unsure and miserable boys for years.

- A few days later -

"Why do you keep saying that? Adding lavender to baneberry potion will not neutralize the poison."

"Yes, it will."

"No, it will not."

"It will."

"How do you know?"

"How does one know anything? By trial and practical application. Books can only go so far, Granger. Sometimes, you have to step outside the box to see what's there."

"Practical appli….okay, so who did you almost poison to find this out?"

Draco grinned that maddening smirk of his, but she'd take it any day to the catatonic stare he'd had when he first moved into her suite.

"If you're as smart as everyone says, you should be able to figure it out. But trust me…..it worked."

Hermione huffed but conceded the point. But did he have to be so smug about it?

Draco had been her roommate for the past few days. The potions Madame Pomfrey had given him had done their job. He was still tender, but his wounds had healed nicely. She saw them once before they had and thought she would gag. She couldn't comprehend the level of pain he must have endured. But he never spoke of it.

As roommates, she'd seen a completely different side to him. The snark was still there, but the cruelty was not. Actually, now that she'd gotten to know him better, his quips were rather amusing, especially when he applied them to Blaise. His best friend took the jesting in stride, Draco's wit having been his constant companion for years.

She wondered if Blaise was the one who had been his potions guinea pig. Probably. The level of respect and trust the two had for the other was amazing. Their friendship was different from the one Harry and Ron shared. Her best friends' relationship had started from mutual need; Harry's need for a family and Ron's need for attention. From there, it had grown into a strong camaraderie.

In contrast, Draco and Blaise were best friends because they just…clicked. Their temperaments were vastly different….yet in some unexplainable way, they were similar. Each bringing something different, yet a perfect pairing, nonetheless. They just got each other. It made her recall one of the few lessons Hermione had bothered to remember from Trelawney's divination class. The one where she'd talked about soulmates. Hermione was surprised to learn that contrary to the Veela romance novels that were so wildly popular with the girls in her dorm, soulmates did not have to be within the constraints of a romantic attachment. They could be found among siblings or even friends. As she watched the two Slytherins interact, she wondered if they were some of the lucky ones who shared a soul. She found herself wistfully admiring them. Neither would ever be truly alone; not really. Not as long as they had each other.

Unlike me, Little Miss Solitary. That should be my middle name, not Jean.

In two days, she would be moving to the palace. There, she would ready herself for the coronation that would take place at the end of the month. She both feared and welcomed the transition. Hermione felt it was time to move forward and get on with her life. But she dreaded doing it by herself.

I wish Draco and Blaise could come with me.

She didn't know why she wanted them more than her other two friends; she'd known Ron and Harry longer, even though this year they had started to drift apart a bit.

But that's natural, right? We're all getting older.

Her new life just seemed to fit better with the Slytherin duo.

Okay, so that was a load of codswallop. She did know why she wanted Draco and Blaise over Ron and Harry.

But she wasn't to the point where she could admit it just yet.

That evening, she mustered up the courage to speak to them.

They were all studying at the table in the common room. Blaise was working on his transfiguration notes; Draco was finishing up on a star chart for their Astronomy class. Hermione was twirling a quill between her fingers trying to think of the best way to broach the subject. Moving a book to grab a sheet of parchment underneath, Blaise glanced up to find Hermione staring at Draco. He watched her as she bit her bottom lip, a familiar tell that told him she was unsure about something. He smiled to himself as he inked his quill; there was attraction there. He'd bet his bottom galleon on it. He'd caught her several times studying his friend when she thought no one was looking. He'd seen the smiles and the blushes. Yet, she kept her guard up whenever the two of them talked. Perhaps she was feeling off-kilter about the whole thing; no doubt because it was Draco who was engendering those feelings in her. Maybe she hadn't fully forgiven him for his past bullying. Maybe she was afraid of what her friends might say if they knew. But try as she might, she would never be able to convince him that she didn't like Draco, because she did. The other day he'd caught them arguing, which seemed to be their preferred method of flirting. He'd heard the tail end of it.

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because it's none of your business!"

Hermione sulked, her bottom lip jutting out. "I thought you would trust me by now."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Just because those two idiots do whatever you tell them to doesn't mean I will. Quit trying to manipulate me, Granger."

She huffed, crossing her arms irritably. "Do you realize you're the only person who calls me that?"

"What? Manipulative?"

"No, you dunce….Granger. Everyone else calls me Ma'am or your Highness."

Draco's smirk became positively devilish. "Oh, so that's what's bothering you. Not enough bowing and arse kissing from me?"

Hermione made a small sound of disgust. "Honestly…you are insufferable."

"Yes, I am," he said, suddenly serious. "And you're a high-strung harpy. Take off the rose colored glasses, Granger. We are what we are."

Hermione said nothing for a moment. Then she said, "You don't hate me anymore…do you?"

Draco's expression froze. But his eyes softened, the emotion in them glowing, deepening into something she'd never seen from him before. She swallowed, feeling like a great, big piece of gum was stuck in her throat.

He watched in silence as her cheeks turned a rosy pink. Then he opened his mouth to speak. "Hermione….listen. I…" was all he was able to get out before she interrupted him, desperately wanting to hear what he would say, but too scared to allow him to do it.

"I guess I shouldn't have asked you that but well…I was curious. I mean, you haven't called me mudblood or anything, so that's an improvement. Well actually, you couldn't really call me that anymore, could you? My blood is purer than yours! But I am still muggleborn, so Ha! take that pure bloods….your queen is all muggley! Although I do know that muggley is not a real word…but it's better than mudblood….which I am very glad you no longer say…oh, and you know what else I'm glad about? I haven't seen you frowning near as much. It's nice. Not the frowning, I mean, but the smiling. And I've also noticed that you…"

Draco put his hand over her mouth. Really, it was the only effective way to stop the verbal diarrhea she was prone to having, although in the past, it only showed up before an important exam. Obviously, something was making her jumpy now. Was it him? Leaning down, he brought his face next to hers.

Her eyes widened at his nearness. He'd never been this close to her before. She began to feel a bit dizzy and weak in the knees, but she didn't know if it was from nervous excitement or from his hand blocking her nostrils to the point where she couldn't breathe properly.

"I don't hate you," he whispered, slowly removing his hand until it cradled her cheek.

Hermione took a deep breath. It didn't help. Definitely nerves, then.

They were so close, their noses were almost touching. Draco had never been so tempted. If he thought her pretty before, it was nothing to what she looked like up close. Her skin felt like velvet. He could imagine what those plump lips of hers would feel like pressed against his. If he moved just a fraction more, he could capture them and find out for himself. That is, if they would be still long enough to let him.

Hiding in the shadows, Blaise watched, a wide grin blooming on his face. Maybe Draco was too stubborn to tell her how he felt, but she had to be picking up on what he was showing her.

Pulling out of the memory, Blaise cleared his throat to get her attention. "Bee in your bonnet, Ma'am? If you twirl that feather any harder, you're going to break it."

She dropped the quill, her face reddening with embarrassment. "Oh…no. Nothing's bothering me. I was just wondering…." she said, turning to play with her necklace instead, "if you two would….oh..by you two, I mean you and Draco, of course….if you would like to come…but I don't want you to feel obligated if you don't want to come, you understand…now, what was I saying? Oh, yes. I was wondering if..."

By now, she'd gotten Draco's attention with her babbling. "Good gosh, Granger, not again. What's wrong with you? Have you forgotten how to speak? You sound like you've been hexed with a first years' attempt at a mimble-wimble spell. Just spit it out or be quiet. You're going to give me a headache."

Hermione's temper, already frayed by her unease, immediately got the better of her. She began glaring at Draco, fire returning to her eyes as her hands went to her hips. She looked like a fish wife about to give him a sharp scolding.

Good. That's my Granger, he thought. A fierce lioness. Not some nervous Nellie who would jump at their own shadow.

"Well, before you so rudely interrupted me, I was going to ask if either of you would like to join me when I move to the palace in two days time, Draco."

He noticed there was no spluttering this time when she spoke. Making her mad always worked. Done with his chart, he decided to ruffle her feathers a bit more. Just for fun, of course. "Join you for what? A night of billiards? Fencing? Blasting people off your family tapestry? That's a popular game. My family plays it all the time."

She couldn't stop her snort of laughter, even though she was irritated with the prat. "You are so ridiculous."

"Hey…. at least I'm still on mine, though. Well, I was….maybe I still am…." he trailed off, his face immediately darkening. It seemed to be Draco's turn to mumble. Only this time, it was no laughing matter.

She quickly looked over at Blaise. His face had fallen, his concern clear.

"Don't think it, Mate. You know your mother would never allow him to do it."

Hermione, never slow on the uptake, began to put the pieces together. Whatever had happened that night with Draco, it was evident his family had been involved.

She gently reached over and took his hand. "Will you tell me now what happened? I promise I won't judge."

He inhaled sharply at the feel of her soft touch, but grabbed her hand as if it were a lifeline.

"Alright…..you've pestered me enough….I guess you should know."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue that she had most certainly not been pestering him when she saw Blaise's imperceptible shake of his head. She sighed and nodded. He was right. Now was not the time to butt heads with the blonde. Not that she'd even really wanted to; it just seemed to be their way.

At first, Draco didn't say anything but kept licking his lips almost as if they were too dry for speech. Then slowly…. far too slowly for Hermione's liking…. he began to talk. Jumbled, messy words punctuated by other long pauses and painful swallows. Tears filled Hermione's eyes and her heart ached with sympathy each time he came to a part he couldn't voice without fear of losing control. She wanted to tell him he didn't have to spill out the details; her imagination could easily fill in the blanks. When he finally came to the part where he told them his father's parting words, she had reached her limit. No longer able to contain her need to comfort, Hermione got up from her chair and went over to the other side of the table where Draco sat. There, she practically launched herself at him, hugging him for all she was worth while making herself at home in his lap.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," she murmured over and over as her hands alternately rubbed his back or stroked his hair. Draco held her as tightly as he could in spite of his new skin protesting the action. Feeling emboldened by his response, she kissed his temple, whispering something that only he could hear. His answer to it was to burrow even deeper into her arms, his head finding her shoulder the perfect pillow. She could feel his mouth against her neck when he sighed, content for the first time in what seemed like forever.

His presence completely forgotten by the two, Blaise watched it all. Attraction. Yep, he'd been right. His best friend was holding the girl he long fancied. And she was holding him back. He hated that it had taken something like this to bring them together, but as his mother was fond of saying, opportunity often came disguised as misfortune.

The trick was in recognizing it when it did.

A/N: I think the castle's name means "The Strength of Our Kind" but can't guarantee it. I've been burned before by google translate.

The phrase "having been his constant companion for years" was my adaptation of a quote from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice: "You mistake me, my dear. I have the utmost respect for your nerves. They've been my constant companion these twenty years."

The ending quote was one taken from Napoleon Hill:
"Opportunity often comes disguised in the form of misfortune, or temporary defeat."