Chapter 12: Code

May 19, 2018
The Royal Suite at the Goring Hotel

A Vault of Secrets

It's no secret that the royal family is, by necessity, guarded and incredibly given to social isolation. Much precedence exists even before the modern technological age for royals having their private details revealed in a number of harrowing ways, ultimately prompting a practice of curating close, trustworthy companions and friends. These gatekeepers, as some call them, linger in the background of the royal family's lives when it comes to matters of public exposure but are known within privileged circles for having the ear of the King and Princes.

One such branch of gatekeeper is the Nott family, which has been close to the royal house of Malfoy for multiple generations. It is often remarked that the elder Theodore Nott is considered a second pair of eyes and ears for His Majesty. Those who seek to gain King Abraxas' approval must first gain the approval of his childhood friend, who stood stoically by the monarch's side long before Abraxas' assumption of the throne in 1958.

Ah, Rita. You would know better than anyone about details being revealed in harrowing ways, but for the record, I do wish you'd mentioned this particular fun fact just a tad bit sooner.

Hogwarts University
September 29, 2011

For the first term of her final year, Hermione had opted to take Slughorn's Shakespeare class, figuring she owed it to The Bard Himself to take a course about his works in something adjacent to his own backyard. Theo had also chosen to take the class, though in his case, Hermione figured that was the equivalent of a native speaker deciding to take a course in his own language. Theo seemed to have already learned every line of every play, which meant he was twice as likely to be paying no attention whatsoever to anything going on in class.

That day, Hermione fell into her usual seat beside Theo with a groan, laden down with a multitude of books bewailing the existence of adverbs in various ways for her expository writing class.

"I thought you were a literature major?" Theo said, eyeing the writing books, and Hermione made a face.

"I am, but that's only because of where I've chosen to study," she explained, waving a hand to gesture around the room and, in a broader sense, the castle. "You know, when in Rome, as they say."

"Ah," Theo noted sagely. "Well, tragically this isn't a more interesting historical era for Scotland, or the answer to 'do as the Scots do' might be something more akin to fruitless rebellion and zealous warfare."

"That's a good point," Hermione said, frowning in thought. "For the record, I do want to take a course in military strategy. Did you know there's a department of Peace and Conflict Studies?" she asked, brightening. "There's a class called 'Defense Against the Dark Side,' though I'm fairly certain it's not actually about Star Wars—"

"Much as I deeply hope that it is," Theo countered, "you only have one term left, California, in case you've forgotten. I don't think you have time for all this academic exploration."

"I know, and I hate it," Hermione lamented. "I wish I could take all the classes this school offered. At the same time, even."

(As she said it, two of her books tumbled forward at her feet, launching themselves into Tracey Davis' personal space. Tracey, unamused, handed them over her shoulder without looking, flicking her blonde ponytail in irritation.)

"What, like with some sort of time machine?" Theo asked.

"Yes," Hermione said. "Sure, hypothetically speaking."

Theo arched a brow. "You want a time machine so you can do… more school?"

"Well, yeah," Hermione said. "Nothing else comes to mind at the moment."

"Outrageous," Theo sniffed. "Totally uninspired. I wish Blaise were here to detract points."

"What do you want me to do," she sighed, "kill Hitler?"

Theo shrugged. "There's all sorts of murders you could get up to with a time machine. Why pick such a narrow scope?"

"Do you think about this often?"

"Do other people not?"

"I hate to think you're the standard for other people's moral ponderings."

"It's just a regular pondering. Speaking of, what do you think about coming to my house Saturday next? Could make it an annual thing," Theo said, abruptly startling Hermione with the change in topic. "Fleur's visiting," he clarified, "and she insists on seeing, I don't know. Where I come from, I suppose."

He was fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat, clearly dreading the prospect. Hermione realized it was unlikely Fleur had any idea how much Theo hated to go home—though, really, how could she have known? He didn't discuss it openly, and Fleur didn't have the benefit Hermione and Daphne had of being around not only Theo himself, but his closest friends as well. It was impossible not to absorb Theo's discomfort with his father by the process of social osmosis, and likely Fleur had no idea what she was asking of him by making what was probably a well-intentioned request.

"Yeah, we'll go," Hermione said quickly, and Theo looked up, his smile a little crooked with gratitude. "I'm sure Draco will want to, he's been absurdly busy. And I think I can sell Pansy on inviting Neville." Pansy had been bemoaning just that morning that Neville constantly wanted to talk to her on the phone, which was an activity the rest of them already knew she loathed. "Don't worry," Hermione assured Theo quietly. "We'll be there."

Theo hesitated. "And… Daphne?" he ventured, pretending unsuccessfully at impassivity. "Would she come?"

"Do you want her to?" Hermione asked him.

To that, Theo looked surprised. "Of course. She's… of course I do."

"Well, then you'll have to invite Harry," Hermione said, calculating the relatively simple math in her head: Theo + Fleur, her + Draco, Pansy + Neville… and seeing that Blaise was a floating variable beloved by everyone and reliable for absolutely nothing, that meant Daphne would need the prospect of Harry's presence to even consider coming along. "Not that he wouldn't come, naturally. I'm not convinced he actually does anything when he's not with us."

"Oh." At the mention of Harry, Theo's expression had gone slightly grim. "Right, yes, of course. I'll invite him."

"Uh oh," Hermione said, noting Theo's avoidance. "What's wrong with Harry?"

"What? Nothing," Theo said in a flaming lie. "Nothing, he's one of my best fri-"

"Oh, do shut up," Hermione groaned. "What's this about? Daphne?"

"I—" Theo grimaced. "It's just, you know. Harry's quite… a lot, isn't he? He's…" He paused. "I suppose it's just difficult not to pale in comparison when Harry's around."

Hermione recalled Draco had once said something very similar. "You're not worried he'd steal Fleur, are you?" she remarked with a laugh. "I don't think that's a very Harry thing to do. I mean, I'm sure Rita Skeeter would disagree, but—"

"No, I just—" Theo broke off, obviously not wanting to confess to anything specific. "It's nothing."

"Oh, it's nothing, is it?" Hermione mused, dropping her voice as Slughorn meandered into the classroom to bark something at a centrally-located (unfortunately for him) Michael Corner about the latest gift from some soccer player he'd previously taught. "Because if you're bothered about how much time Daphne and Harry are spending together—"

"Of course not," Theo said, kicking gruffly at her foot and accidentally knocking into Tracey Davis' chair, which her ponytail indicated she did not appreciate. "Greengrass is free to do whatever she likes, and so is Harry. I mean really, why shouldn't they be together?" he posed brusquely. "Makes perfect sense. She's a delight, he's a delight, together they're just—"

"Delightful?" Hermione guessed.

"Shut up," Theo said loftily, his tone crisp. "Anyway, it's not as if I have any sort of… feeling on the matter, I'm just—surprised. Aren't you?" he demanded. "I suppose you've only ever seen a fairly tame version of Harry, but still—"

"Tame?" Hermione echoed wryly. "I don't know that that would have been my choice of words."

"Well, he started out showing off for you, didn't he? Trying to be his best self, I imagine, or at least the version he thought you'd like," Theo said with a slight hint of disapproval, and then grimaced, belatedly realizing what he'd said. "Sorry, I didn't mean for that to come out, I just—"

"You, um." Hermione swallowed. "You know about that?"

"I shouldn't have said anything," Theo said quickly. "Forget I said it. The point is—"

"Nope," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "You did this. Did you two talk about me?"

"I—" Theo growled his opposition. "Well it's not like he could tell Draco, could he? And anyway, you'd think he'd do me the fairly simple courtesy of telling me what's going on now, but no, instead it's, 'Theodore, if you have questions, I hardly think I'm the person to ask,' which is just—"

"Mr Nott," Slughorn interrupted, prompting both Hermione and Theo to notice that the class, including a perturbed Tracey Davis, were glancing expectantly at them. "Would you like to share your thoughts?"

"Oh, indubitably," Theo said drily. "Which of my thoughts, specifically?"

Luckily Slughorn, who was always happy to hear himself talk, didn't hesitate to repeat the question. "In Romeo and Juliet, Romeo's tragic flaw is—"

"Oh, okay, let me stop you there," Theo said, rising to his feet. "Let's talk about tragedy, shall we? Because as we've discussed, there's such an abysmally fine line between comedy and tragedy," he announced, beginning an oration Hermione felt certain would go off the rails with disturbing immediacy. "Let's be honest with ourselves here—Romeo and Juliet has plenty of dick jokes, doesn't it, so one small pivot and voilà! Comedy. Miscommunication is a classic comedy trope, hardly ever the main instrument of tragedy. A fake death! Classic trope fodder. Which means, literally speaking, Romeo and Juliet could have been a perfectly marvelous romp if timing had been even minutely different. Where's the tragic flaw? Impulsiveness, scholars say. Wonderful. Romeo's impulsive, he kills Tybalt, it's his downfall. Well, I disagree. First of all, that's not impulsive. Mercutio's just been murdered, hasn't he?" he scoffed. "To call this a romance is ludicrous. If their families hadn't hated each other maybe Romeo and Juliet would have simply broken up over some sort of argument about, I don't know, whether carrots have any place in desserts. Who knows, maybe they'd have spent a few lovely nights together and then she'd have run off with… Benvolio, why not," Theo ranted, and Hermione glanced down, wondering if life and fiction might have begun to blur slightly in his analysis. "Instead, it's just a simple, straightforward matter of throwing themselves to the abyss following a series of disastrously ill-timed events so as to die in blissful ignorance never realizing that actually, she'd have never lived up to her own expectations for herself and he'd have driven himself positively mad overthinking everything and yet never saying a word—and wouldn't that have been the real tragedy?"

He paused, a little winded, and Hermione gaped up at him, though she could see from the broad spectrum of shocked expressions she was far from the only one.

"Comedy goes from bad to good," Theo continued curtly. "A shipwreck to marriage. A frolic in the woods to… well, marriage again. Some traumatic event that inevitably leads, through some convoluted web, to a wedding. Tragedy goes from good to bad, but where is that here? If anything, Romeo and Juliet are tools for their parents to go from a truly pointless hatred to a lasting peace, so really, since Romeo and Juliet do get married, proceed to die young and in love, and their parents eventually manage to get over themselves, the story is positively hilarious. If irony were even marginally less cruel," Theo finished, "it'd be funny."

He fell back into his seat with a conclusive note of disinterest, leaving Slughorn to blink vacuously into nothing.

"Well," Slughorn said. "That was… interesting. Anyway, impulsiveness was in there somewhere, wasn't it?" he chuckled to himself, looking inanely pleased. "On that note, as we were saying—"

"Hey," Hermione said, leaning over to talk to Theo. "I take it you're totally over Daphne, then?"

He grimaced, not looking at her.

"I'm hereby removing myself from the conversation," was his eventual grumbled reply, which did not surprise Hermione in the slightest, considering he'd already said more than enough.

"I think Theo's coming unhinged," Hermione remarked over Saturday lunch with Pansy. "Have you noticed?"

"I already told you I'd go on your little weekend holiday, Hermione," Pansy sniffed, "you hardly need to sweeten the pot."

"That's not really what I meant," Hermione said, but Pansy wasn't listening, being instead distracted by her salad's unsatisfactory state of undress. "Did Neville agree to go?"

"Yes, which is somewhat unfortunate," Pansy said, gesturing to someone in the international language of food-related displeasure.

"Unfortunate?" Hermione echoed.

"Well, yes, seeing as we haven't been anywhere overnight," Pansy said, beckoning over her shoulder just before someone hurried over with a side of vinaigrette. "I'm not sure yet how much of his personality I'm going to be able to stand for so many uninterrupted hours."

"Pansy," Hermione admonished, laughing a little, and Pansy looked up, surprised.

"What?"

"I thought you liked him," Hermione said, amused, and Pansy rolled her eyes.

"He's perfectly fine," Pansy said, which fell somewhat shy of the most romantic thing Hermione had ever heard. "A bit nervous, I suppose."

"You make everyone around you nervous," Hermione reminded her, and Pansy made a face.

"I'd like to think the man I might marry wouldn't be so easily frightened," she grumbled. "What does he think I'm going to do, shout at him?"

"Your method of disapproval is way worse than that," Hermione assured her. "If anything, the prospect of your silent brand of dismissal seems like enough to keep him on his toes for a lifetime."

"That's ridiculous," Pansy said, sighing a little with what appeared to be dissatisfaction with her replacement vinaigrette. "Maybe a weekend away is what he needs to realize I'm not remotely the sort of person he thinks I am."

"You're not?" Hermione asked, amused again.

"Well, not for him, I'd hope," Pansy muttered, attempting to improve the situation with a lemon wedge. "Again, if I'm going to be spending the rest of my life with him, I'd hope he could adjust accordingly."

Hermione took a sip of water. "Does he know you're planning your future?"

"If he doesn't, he's an idiot," Pansy grumbled under her breath, then set her fork down, shaking her head. "I sometimes wish I could fast-forward a bit," she remarked, glancing briefly into nothing. "Just… not have to worry about dating and be married and settled, everything all sorted out."

"That sounds a little boring," Hermione said. "Doesn't it matter to you what happens along the way?"

"That's assuming one has choices, doesn't it?" Pansy asked her drily. "Being made to watch my life pass by is something of an undesirable activity. I'd rather be further along, particularly as I'm not going to have some sort of fling with a prince to amuse myself with until reality catches up with me," she said, gesturing vaguely and unflatteringly to Hermione. "Nor will I get to have some sort of career shouting into the void about social progress or whatever it is you're always going on about having when all of this is over."

"Why wouldn't you—wait," Hermione said, pausing. "Wait. What?"

"Well, whenever you and Draco break up you'll probably just go back to California and be a lawyer, won't you? Or whatever it is you want to do with yourself," Pansy said. "Meanwhile, my life's been planned out from the moment the doctors said 'it's a girl,' so until there's a ring on my finger I'm just going through the motions. At least when I'm married I'll be able to be a patron of some sort," she said, brightening optimistically, "or get to be active in society—"

"Hold on," Hermione said, blinking. "That's… there's a lot there, but are you—" She broke off, frowning. "Pansy, you do know you don't have to just do whatever you're told, don't you? There's plenty of opportunity for—"

"Hermione, please don't bore me with platitudes," Pansy said. "I think I might die from any further mundanity."

"But—"

"Neville's sort of handsome," she added abruptly, frowning to herself. "He's nice, isn't he? Sort of funny from time to time. Maybe he's got an entirely different personality I won't even see until he's revealing some horrifying kink in the bedroom," Pansy remarked, and not for the first time Hermione desperately hoped she was joking, but could never really be sure. "I don't love surprises, but I could stand to be caught off guard once, I think."

Hermione was beginning to think all of her friends were coming unglued.

"Would it help if I said it doesn't have to be like that?" she asked, probably too optimistically.

"Nope," said Pansy.

"Thought not," Hermione sighed, and paused. "Well, should we get some wine?"

"Finally, something useful out of you," Pansy agreed, gesturing over her shoulder to the waitress to signal for the check. "Let's pick up a bottle and take it home. A little champagne has never failed to loosen Daphne's recalcitrant tongue."

Hermione laughed. "If it helps, she hasn't told me anything about what's going on, either. Well, more accurately, I haven't asked," she amended, shrugging. "Maybe half the problem with Theo was that none of us could ever stop asking."

"Well, Harry won't tell me," Pansy said, "which I detest. So, bubbles it is."

Sage wisdom, Hermione thought, wondering for a half a second what had become of her priorities before brusquely setting the consideration aside.

"So, did Daphne say anything?" Draco asked Hermione when they were cooped up at their usual table in the library, having been bent over their respective papers for three hours before stopping for a much needed break. "Harry hasn't told me much of anything lately."

"She did not," Hermione said, giving him a playfully disapproving nudge. "And since when are you such a gossip?"

"It's a basic economic principle of scarcity," Draco informed her. "First of all, lack of transparency is enough to upend any industry, particularly one which trades on a platform of honesty and admission. Secondly, Harry and Daphne currently have a monopoly on information. As a future reigning monarch, I simply cannot condone such an irresponsible distribution of resources."

"You are such a nerd," Hermione groaned, and Draco smiled broadly.

"True," he permitted, glancing over his shoulder before leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. "Though you would certainly know, wouldn't you?"

"If you're suggesting I'm a swot, Your Highness—"

"Oh, don't," Draco said, tutting softly as he brushed her lips with his. "I love it when you misuse British colloquialisms."

"I'm not misusing it this time!" Hermione protested, kissing him back once, firmly, before pushing him safely away. "I'm a swot and I accept that."

"Well, you ruin all the fun in using it against you if you refuse to accept even a single iota of shame," Draco said, shaking his head. "Frankly, all your rampant colonialisms make you unhelpfully secure."

"Sorry to ruin your fun," she said, giving his shoulder a shove. "If you really want me to feel bad about something, try telling me my sentence structure is—" She paused, picking up one of the writing books she'd been consulting and reading it aloud. "'Unvaried, and lacking any conceivable evidence of style.'"

"Hermione, please. I'm simply trying to tease you, not shake you to your core," Draco said, feigning dismay, and she laughed. "Though, on the topic of devastation, I should warn you I may have to leave tomorrow to make some appearances with my father."

"Oh, no," Hermione groaned. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Draco said, patting her head. "But I'll be at Theo's on Saturday, I promise."

"Well, that's comforting. I suppose your little bro code would dictate your presence, anyway," she mused, and Draco spared her a wry smile.

"You know too many of my secrets," he told her. "You're becoming a threat to the crown."

"As I should be," she said, and nudged him. "How did you come by all your codes with Theo?"

"Time, mostly," he said. "I imagine you're aware by now any friends I wish to have go through a rigorous selection process. Feats of strength, the riddle of the sphinx," he joked, but Hermione, who recalled that Lucius had once done a fair bit of research about her, couldn't help being genuinely curious.

"Is the selection process determined by you," she asked, "or by your father?"

"Both, I suppose," Draco said, considering it. "I mostly got lucky, really, that Theo is who he is," he added after a moment. "My father doesn't have a Theo."

"He doesn't?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Well, no. I suppose that's owing to my father being—"

"The Prince of Darkness?" Hermione guessed, and Draco laughed.

"That, and, also, he was Prince of Wales from birth, essentially," he said. "My father was born one year before my grandfather became king. He's been moments from the throne his entire life, and I suppose that… does something to a person." He shrugged. "I'm obviously going to be king myself one day, but there's a step in the immediacy that makes things a bit different. People aren't really trying to influence me yet, seeing as my grandfather's in perfect health and so is my father—minus the occasional act of American terrorism, that is," he amended, grinning at her as she made a face.

"Well, that's sort of sad for him," she noted, a bit surprised she still managed to dredge up some sympathy for a man who represented, for all intents and purposes, the devil. "The not having a close friend like you have, I mean."

"I'll be sure to relay that to him while he tortures me this week," Draco assured her, leaning back in his chair with an absent smile before glancing at her. "You're finished for the afternoon, right?"

"What? No," Hermione said, frowning. "I've got at least three hundred words left t-"

"You're finished," Draco cut in, leaning forward to tug subtly at her belt loop, "right?"

"Oh—oh. Yes, right," she agreed, and he smiled, gallantly tucking her laptop under his arm and forcing her to chase after him as he went.

In the end, Prince Lucifer kept Draco longer than anticipated, which wasn't an especially earth-shattering surprise. Draco sent Hermione a text as they were leaving early Saturday morning saying he'd join them later that evening, and she resigned herself to knowing it meant she'd be able to keep an eye on both Daphne and Pansy—the former mostly for curiosity's sake, and the latter because she still seemed to be splitting her personality into fragmented, asymmetrical pieces. Lately, Pansy was alternating between blistering saccharinity and an even more brusque version of her usual standoffishness, as if she was becoming increasingly irritated by her own pretenses.

Hermione figured it was best she contribute more to the platonic end of things, which Blaise already seemed to be a master at. "How come you never let us meet anyone you're dating?" she asked him, and he shrugged. "I just saw you with a girl last week. Why not invite her along?"

"Because," Blaise remarked impatiently, "that would lead her to believe I wanted something from her which I specifically hope to avoid."

Hermione, amused, arched a brow. "What, dating?"

"I don't date," Blaise said, making a face. "I find the entire thing burdensome."

"Which part—the affection? The comfort? Dare I say it," she joked, watching Blaise's expression contort with dismay, "the… intimacy?"

"Stop," Blaise said, looking intensely uncomfortable, and she laughed, pulling him along as they made their way into Theo's house.

They were something of a spectacle right from the start. From left to right, Hermione observed Neville setting down two of the bags he'd been uncomfortably holding for Pansy, Fleur placing the kind of kiss to Theo's lips which made the rest of them felt incredibly voyeuristic just for being within ten feet of it, and then, in a conclusive finale, Harry throwing Daphne over one shoulder and her bag over the other, carrying her up the stairs as she resigned herself unwillingly to the procession. Theo, whose gaze snagged slightly on their unceremonious exit, frowned momentarily before shaking himself, beckoning for the others to follow and leading them to their rooms for the weekend.

"Think this is going to be weird?" Hermione whispered to Blaise as they made their way up the stairs to the bedrooms.

"I certainly hope so," he replied spiritedly. "Things have been very quiet and odd."

"Do you know what's going on with Daphne and Harry?" she asked him, and he turned to slide his puzzled glance to hers.

"Of course. It's obvious, isn't it?"

"Is it?" Hermione asked, and Blaise shrugged, continuing up the stairs. "Wait, Blaise—Blaise," she hissed, "what's obvious, exactly?"

"If I told you," he said, displeased, "that would be doing you a disservice. It would be to enforce problematic behavior, which I simply could not condone."

"Blaise," she groaned again, chasing after him as he continued loping disinterestedly down the hall. "Don't you think I deserve to know? I am in the top three this week, points-wise."

"Well, when you put it that way, still no," he said, turning into a room at the end of the corridor as Hermione followed doggedly after him. "Though, if you figure it out by the end of the weekend, then I suppose I'll have to give you some points for that, won't I?"

"Points for what?" Theo asked, poking his head into the room.

"Nothing," Hermione and Blaise said in unison.

"And minus five for interrupting," Blaise added.

"Interrupting what?" Theo asked, disgruntled. "You come into my house—"

"By the way, I brought Ogden's," Blaise said.

"Oh, good, then we're fine," Theo ruled, turning to Hermione. "You can take Draco's usual room if you want. He says he'll be in by tonight."

"Oh, okay," Hermione said, glancing over her shoulder at Blaise as Theo beckoned for her to follow him. "But um, Blaise, about what we were saying—"

"Go," Blaise said, waving a hand. "Make sure Lady Six-Names hasn't eaten that nice young man of hers."

A valid concern, Hermione thought. "Fine, but we'll talk about this later," she called to him.

"No, shan't," was his musically unbothered reply, and Hermione turned to Theo with an eye roll.

"Secrets, hm?" Theo observed, taking a sharp turn and leading her to another corridor. "And in my house, too—"

"Blaise's secrets," Hermione lamented. "I'm not in on them."

"Oh, well that's fine, then. Blaise is an elusive specimen. I find it's best to let him be," Theo added with a shrug, "as I imagine he could destroy all of us in one fell swoop if he only got bored enough to try it."

For better or worse, Hermione felt that assertion was probably apt. "You're right," she reluctantly agreed, before abruptly remembering the reason they'd all come for the weekend. "So, how are you doing?" she asked Theo, who spared her a wry half-smile.

"You know, when we were small, Draco and I had a thing," Theo remarked tangentially, lifting a hand. "Knock twice for entry," he explained, mimicking the motion of knocking on a door. "If he said 'come in,' everything was fine. If he said 'come back later,' it meant things weren't fine, but he didn't want to talk about it."

"I don't see how that's—" Oh, Hermione registered, and then lifted her hand, feeling silly as she knocked twice into empty air.

Theo smiled thinly. "Come in," he said, and Hermione nodded, the initial sensation of ludicrousness giving way to relief.

"I like it," she admitted. "That's a good code."

Theo opened the door to Draco's room with a nod, gesturing her inside, and she paused in the frame.

"Just out of curiosity, what would Draco say," she asked Theo, "if everything wasn't fine, but he did want to talk about it?"

Theo's smile flickered, then broadened.

"One code at a time, California," was his only answer before he slipped away with a wink, his long strides echoing back down the hall.

The day's festivities were about as haphazardly planned as Hermione had expected, consisting largely of getting drunk in the afternoon while playing an extremely lackluster game of badminton that they quickly abandoned with spectacular disinterest. Things were mostly the same as they always were, minus the inclusion of Neville and Fleur, but they all seemed to be handling the slightly altered atmosphere (read: the situation of Theo and Daphne avoiding each other more than usual due to Fleur's presence, the two of them apologizing profusely any time they came into any sort of contact while the others pretended not to notice) with a mix of avoidance and alcohol. After glass number four, Hermione was well into the process of explaining baseball (had, in fact, been having a miniature home run derby with Daphne and Harry involving the use of badminton racquets and a series of poorly aimed pitches by Blaise for the benefit of an unimpressed Pansy) and Fleur and Theo were snuggled up on a blanket, serving as intermittently distracted cheerleaders who were more interested in each other than the game.

By the time Hermione admitted she didn't actually understand baseball at all and that perhaps, come to think of it, nobody really did, they'd all given up on the prospects of sports in favor of drinking straight from the bottle, the sun slowly making its way down as they piled around like tired puppies.

From Blaise, healthily inebriated and tucked securely between Hermione and Harry: "I say we play a game."

From Hermione, with a groan: "We just played all the games. What other games even are there?"

Blaise, kicking her: "Truth games, of course. Minus two points for doubt, which is a better deal, biblically-speaking, than you probably deserve, new Tracey."

From Harry, cheerfully sloshed: "Sure, there's no way a drinking game during which we spill all our secrets could possibly go wrong."

From Pansy, loftily: "I have no secrets. I win this game."

From Daphne, chiming in: "Oh really, is that so—"

Pansy, in reply: a swift and silencing jab.

Daphne: "Ouch!"

From Fleur, with her infuriating gift of mixing warmth and sophistication: "What sort of game did you have in mind, Blaise?"

Blaise, thinking: "Two truths and a lie."

Theo, snidely: "I hate this game, this game's the worst, you're a tyrant."

Harry, scoffing: "Where's the lie?"

Blaise: "MINUS TEN POINTS FOR EACH OF YOU."

Theo, accusingly to Harry: "Look what you did, Henry."

Harry, defensively: "I did no such thing, Theodore."

From Theo: a narrow-eyed grimace.

Hermione, with an anxious glance at Blaise: "Uh, so, should we start?"

Neville, apprehensively: "What's this game, then?"

Blaise: "You tell two truths and one lie, and everyone else guesses what's what."

Neville, looking as if he'd never heard anything worse in his life—which couldn't possibly be true, and yet there they were: "Oh."

Daphne, sitting upright and swaying slightly: "I have a better idea."

Pansy, grumbling: "Somehow, I doubt that."

Daphne, resolutely ignoring her: "That 'never have I' game. You know, 'I've never,' and then everyone who has takes a drink."

Harry, with a laugh: "That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen."

Blaise, delighted: "It absolutely does. Twenty points to Greengrass!"

Fleur, the very portrait of grace despite her slightly slurred words: "I'll start. Never have I ever gotten drunk in the garden of an English palace."

Daphne, innocently: "Didn't you get drunk at Versailles?"

Fleur: "That's a French palace, they're very distinct."

Blaise, glancing around with a grin: "Well? Drink up, Bad Lads."

From Harry, Theo, Blaise: a salute, a drink, and from Theo, a middle finger to Fleur, who smiled radiantly.

Hermione, flushed with the excitement of a brilliant idea: "Never have I ever been to boarding school."

From everyone: a groan.

Hermione, smugly: "Nailed it."

Pansy: "Just for that, never have I ever been to California."

Daphne, with a laugh: "Lady Parkinson, you vindictive swine."

From Hermione and Harry: a toast, and a drink.

Fleur: "Oh, balls. I've been there, too."

Theo: "Well, drink up, siren."

From Fleur: a long sip, and then a kiss to Theo's lips.

Hermione, who'd been distracted by Harry playing mindlessly with her hair and thus finding herself abruptly surprised to see Daphne raising her bottle: "Oh, Daph, have you been there, too? You never said anything."

Daphne, cheerfully not looking at Theo and Fleur: "Nope. I'm just drinking."

From Blaise, directed at Hermione: another silencing kick.

Neville, with a glance at Harry and Fleur: "Well, never have I ever lived in the Slytherin dorms. Seems fair to this lot, doesn't it?"

Blaise, Theo, Hermione, Daphne, Pansy: "BOOOOO."

Theo, raising a hand: "Oh, I've got one—never have I ever had a one-night stand with a stranger."

From Fleur, Blaise, Harry: a drink.

Pansy, with a sidelong glance at Daphne, who wasn't drinking: "Interesting."

Daphne, sharply: "What is?"

Pansy, a little tartly: "Nothing."

Blaise, after taking a gulp: "Ah, I've got one. Never have I ever kissed a French girl."

Theo, Harry, and to everyone's surprise, Fleur: a sip.

From Daphne, languidly: "Well, Pans?"

Pansy, stiffly: "Really?"

Hermione, who was realizing everyone was perhaps slightly drunker and more tense than she'd initially estimated and therefore determining her math was faulty: a swift glance at Blaise, who appeared to have made the same calculation.

Daphne, with a false hint of sweetness: "What, we're all friends here, aren't we?"

From Neville: a swift choking sound.

Pansy: "Oh, is that so, Daphne? Well, then never have I ever been with a teacher."

Hermione: another nervous glance at Blaise, who looked too tensed with concern to even consider appropriating points.

From Daphne: a hard look at Pansy, and a sip.

Harry, clearing his throat: "Well, um. Anyway—"

Neville, hurriedly: "I've never been this drunk this early in the day, I suspect."

Pansy, still glaring at Daphne: "You phrased it wrong, Neville. Here, listen closely: never have I ever had sex with Theo and then lied about it to everyone for months."

From everyone: a shocked wave of silence.

Daphne glanced apprehensively at Theo, then at Fleur beside him, then back at Pansy.

Then Daphne rose to her feet, heading back towards the house without a word, and Theo hurriedly clambered to his knees to follow until Harry stopped him, throwing an arm out to hold him back.

Only Hermione, who'd been wedged between Harry and Blaise, heard what Harry said in Theo's ear. "This isn't your job anymore, mate," Harry murmured to him, glancing briefly at a white-faced Pansy before rising to his feet to chase after Daphne.

Despite the wide variety of disasters requiring attention, Hermione couldn't help focusing her attention on Fleur, who'd gone tense the moment Pansy had spoken. It was fairly clear the fact that Theo and Daphne had slept together once in the past had not been disclosed to her—which Hermione couldn't help feeling guiltily terrible about, considering Fleur had subtly brought it up to her once before.

"I suppose I never thought to ask," Fleur remarked quietly to Theo, who winced.

"It's not—"

"Of course not," Fleur said, her frame markedly rigid despite her unbothered tone. "Of course not, I know."

"Pansy," Neville attempted, turning to face her. "You know it doesn't, um. It doesn't bother me, you know, if in the past you've, um—"

But Pansy had already risen to her feet, folding her arms over her chest and aiming herself into the house after Daphne and Harry. Neville looked torn and uncertain, and Blaise, exchanging a glance with Hermione, shrugged in a way that suggested they should probably begin some form of damage control.

"I'll take this one," Blaise said in a low voice, gesturing to a stricken Neville. "You go after the other two, and we'll leave these two—" He waved a hand at Theo and Fleur, whose body language remained stiff with displeasure, "to talk alone."

"Right, yes," Hermione agreed, grateful to be given a task, and Blaise gestured for Neville to follow him, indicating they should take a walk. Hermione rose to her feet, suddenly immensely cold, and headed dizzily for the house, wondering what on earth she'd have to say to either woman as she went. She knew Daphne had teased Pansy at least once or twice for some sort of indiscretion in the past, but Pansy had never reacted quite so volatilely before. Maybe hiding most of what she was from Neville was finally getting to her.

Hermione walked slowly, still uncertain how to approach it.

You're friends, was the only thing that came to mind. We're friends, Daphne just wants you to be honest, Pansy, and really, you're trying so hard, and aren't we friends? Best friends?

Her head ached a bit, and she swallowed, mouth dry.

She suspected the inevitable hangover was going to be the least of their collective problems.

She didn't actually find Daphne or Pansy upon re-entry to the house; it seemed her cosmic punishment didn't have the decency to wait until morning. "Miss Granger," came a voice as Hermione stepped into the house's main corridor, and she froze.

"Um. Yes?" she asked, turning to find an old man with silver hair standing near the threshold of the study, posed as stiffly as if he were one of the house's Romanesque statues. "Sorry, may I help you?"

"I'm relieved you found me, actually," the man said, stepping forward. "I do hate to venture unnecessarily into my son's bacchanalian rites."

The words my son echoed in Hermione's dully-thudding head as she took in the shape of the man's face, parsing out the details.

"Theo doesn't look like you at all," she commented without thinking, and he grimaced.

"No," he agreed, and then beckoned to the door behind him. "Would you come in?"

"I," Hermione began, clearing her throat. "I was supposed to, um—"

"Let me rephrase," said the elder Theodore Nott. "Please take a seat, Miss Granger."

The words "Am I supposed to curtsy?" escaped her before she could stop them, and Nott, Senior gave her a humorless smile in answer.

"Yes," he said, "but I prefer we not waste our time."

He gestured again to his study, which Hermione unhelpfully recalled had been the same place she'd nearly killed Prince Lucius once before. "Okay," she said lamely, and ventured inside, taking the chair across from his desk while Nott carefully lowered himself into his seat. "I didn't know you'd be here," she ventured, and he gave something of an apathetic nod.

"It's a favor," Nott said slowly, "for a friend." He paused, drawing his hand carefully to his mouth as he leaned back in his chair. "Do you know the friend I mean, Miss Granger?"

She swallowed heavily. Water would have been ideal. As would sobriety. "I'd rather you told me, um… sir?" she said, guessing at how to address him, and he nodded once.

"'Sir' is fine," he said, dismissing her concern and venturing forward. "I understand you're close with my son."

"Yes," Hermione said quickly. "Theo's one of my best friends."

Nott looked unimpressed by this information, and certainly unswayed. "Then I imagine Theodore's told you something of my relationship to His Majesty."

"Actually, um. Draco did, too. His Highness," she corrected herself, and frowned. "Sorry, I don't really know how to talk about him, but he—the Prince, I mean, he told me that you and his grandfath- er, King Abraxas, that you went to Eton with His Majes-"

"For the sake of efficiency, let's simply use their names," Nott cut in, lifting a silvery brow. Theo had none of his father's features, nor any of his gestures. The two men could not have been more different, and for as comfortable as Theo regularly made her with his presence, his father only made her fidget anxiously beneath his hardened glance. "Draco told you I went to Eton with Abraxas," he synthesized on her behalf, "so I presume you understand I've been quite close with His Majesty for quite some time."

Knock twice for entry, she thought abruptly, followed by Theo asking Draco, shaken or stirred?

"Do you two have codes?" she asked him neutrally. "Draco and Theo seem to know each other like the backs of their hands." She paused, then said, "They're as good as one person, aren't they? I take it your relationship with the king must be similar."

She'd been aiming for common ground, but Nott's expression confirmed nothing. "Lucius told me you were intelligent," he said instead. "'Frustratingly quick' is how he put it, actually, though he said it with some distaste. He also said you were crass, disrespectful, and had a tendency to speak without thinking."

"That's probably true," Hermione said warily. "Though Prince Lucius is not… my biggest fan."

"I find that what one's friends have to say is hardly ever useful," Nott said. "One's enemies, on the other hand, have a much more reliable tendency to hit upon the realities of who a person is."

Hermione felt herself stiffen; it was obvious she'd lost any chance at his approval before she'd ever walked in the room.

"What would your son say about you?" she asked him, and his mouth tightened.

"Ah, yes," he murmured with a warning softness. "Lucius also mentioned you lack a certain finesse."

"Why," she said defensively, "because I'm direct?"

"No." The elder Nott's expression was grim. "It's because, when given the option, you're very quick to take the low blows." At that, his mouth twitched slightly, indicating he was… tickled, it seemed. Certainly amused. "Not his exact words, naturally, but Lucius was always more academic. His father and I, we boxed a bit in our youth. We think slightly differently than Lucius does, but the point stands. As an opponent, Miss Granger," Nott clarified, "you never hesitate to take the cheap shots."

"It's not a cheap shot," Hermione said, bristling. "It's certainly not my fault you have no defense."

"It is, however, your fault that you presumed me an opponent." He eyed her for a moment. "Draco has asked his grandfather to meet you. It seems you're quite important to him, but naturally," Nott mused, languidly leaning his head back, "one doesn't simply waltz in and meet the King of England without someone screening them first. That would be rather a poor use of a monarch's time, don't you think, if anyone could be freely brought in his presence?"

Hermione swallowed again, part panic, part dehydration. She hadn't thought his opinion would count for anything; she'd assumed he was another bully sent by Lucius to interfere. "Oh."

Again, Nott only looked amused. "Nobody meets Abraxas without my approval, Miss Granger. At least not under these circumstances."

Fuck. "Oh."

"Yes. 'Oh' is quite right." On another man Nott's light-hearted humor might have seemed warm, but on him, Hermione could tell that it wasn't. "I suppose Draco might not have mentioned that, but as you said, Abraxas and I have our own… codes, did you call them?"

"Yes." She tried to keep her voice from shrinking; the last thing she wanted to be was small. "What exactly am I supposed to be proving, then?"

"Actually, you've already proved it," Nott said, and whatever form of humor was radiating from him now, Hermione suspected it contained a central ring of mockery. "The most important thing I'm meant to determine about you, Miss Granger, is whether or not you are a problem, and I'm pleased to inform you that a problem is most definitely what you are."

She said nothing.

"You obviously won't be going away, not easily. You might even be worse than Bellatrix." Abruptly, Hermione was reminded of a joke her father liked to reference; we're not laughing at you, we're laughing next to you. "Abraxas is going to love and loathe you, I assure you, and frankly, I look forward to seeing it happen."

Hermione stiffened. "I'm not here for your entertainment."

"No, true, you're here for Draco's entertainment," Nott agreed, chuckling to himself, and again, Hermione didn't bother with a reply. "You're quite the novelty for him, Miss Granger. You probably don't fully grasp that yet, do you? I rather doubt it," he answered himself, shrugging. "Nobody Draco knows would dare speak to me or Lucius the way you do, and for now I imagine he's probably foolish enough to find that interesting. Abraxas and I had our own stages of rebellion, as did Lucius, and we've all waited for Draco to have his. Good for him, that he at least chose someone worth the scandal. Once Draco grows up a bit," Nott noted, sliding his chair back to rise to his feet, "I suspect you'll make quite the fascinating footnote, Hermione Granger."

The words stung, but he'd clearly meant them to, and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"You think I won't last," Hermione said, and glanced up. "But what if I do?"

"Well then I, for one, would be quite impressed." Nott slid her a smile full of doubt. "Also, to answer your previous question, I presume my son would say I'm distant. Difficult to please. Maybe even cruel," he said, seeming to find even that assertion worthy of a laugh, "and he'd be right. Certainly doesn't disprove my theory."

Hermione rose to her feet. "So, let me see if I have this right," she said, looking Theodore Nott, Senior in the eye. "You want me to meet King Abraxas because you think I'm a smart girl who's capable of being a problem for the royal family?"

"Yes," Nott said, nodding.

"But you don't think I'm smart enough to last," she determined, and he shrugged.

"We'll certainly see, won't we?" he permitted. "But yes, for now that's a lovely summation."

"Sounds a little like you admire me," Hermione said, before irritably adding, "Sir."

"The mark of a worthy opponent, don't you think?" Nott asked her drily.

In that moment, she decided she hated him more than she'd ever hated anyone, Prince Lucifer included.

"I have to go," she said, and Nott curtly waved a hand towards the exit.

"Then go," he suggested, and Hermione went, walking half-dazed out of his study.

She'd forgotten she was even looking for Daphne and Pansy by the time she stumbled on one out of two, making her way quietly through the Nott Manor's labyrinthine halls and then pausing as she heard voices.

"I shouldn't have baited her like that," Daphne was saying softly. "I feel awful."

"I'm sure Pansy does, too," replied a voice Hermione recognized as belonging to Harry, only it was a more solemn version, similar to the one he used when he was talking about his parents. "I think all this Neville business is getting to her."

"I don't think it's helping that I've been… well." Daphne's voice quieted. "I think I regularly forget she's secretly a romantic. It's bothering her more than she lets on that Theo and I aren't together."

"Makes sense," Harry agreed. "I think, for whatever reason, you two were her proof that love existed, and now it's—"

"Ruined, I know." A sigh. "She's a very complicated woman."

"She's very strong and highly fragile, yes."

"I should talk to her."

"One of us should."

"Fine, you do it."

A laugh. "She's just going to ask me about you."

"Well, then just tell her the sad truth. Why not? Maybe it'll lift her spirits."

Hermione frowned. Sad truth?

"Oh yes, perfect. 'Pansy, I'm sorry I neglected to mention it before, but Daphne and I are spending so much time together because we can't stand to be alone while we're both hopelessly in love with other people.' That will thrill her, I'm sure."

Hermione, tucked out of sight, blinked with surprise. Both?

"In fairness, I think Pansy misses you," Daphne said. "All this time you're spending with me takes you away from her."

"Well, she has Neville. What does she need me for?"

"You know her better than anyone, Harry. And anyway, you're nice. You're a nice person."

A laugh. Harry's laugh, which was rich and boundless. "There's no need to insult me, Daph."

"Oh, stop." A pause. "I could love you, I think," Daphne said thoughtfully. "You're very easy to love."

"As are you," Harry said, and paused. "Should we just do it, then? I mean, granted, my situation is positively hopeless. You and Theo, at least that was sort of real at some point. Hermione's only ever been for Draco and yet here I am, newly learning what it is to pine."

Hermione bit down hard on something that tasted a bit like guilt, though she wasn't actually sure whether or not she had any obligation to feel it.

"Well, it's high time you developed actual feelings for someone," Daphne said. "It can't be meaningless sex all the time, can it?"

"Isn't there a midpoint somewhere? You and I could have semi-meaningful sex," Harry offered. "I can't say I've never thought about it."

A pause, and then a groan. "Fine, I suppose I can't deny it either," Daphne said, and Harry laughed. "But I think I owe it to myself to, um. To suffer? Does that make sense? I can't just do something because it's easy. For once, anyway."

"You know, it'd be nice if we were brought into the world with some sort of warning," Harry said. "Like if my life had some sort of preview attached—like, say, tags that read, 'category romance, subcategory humor,' or some other helpful indication this would all definitely end well. Then I wouldn't have any cause for worry and could continue my life of debauchery in peace."

"Yeah." Daphne laughed, and then quieted for a moment. "I suppose we just have to trust it."

"My father did," Harry said, and Hermione could hear evidence of him smiling to himself. "When it came to my mother, he said he was sure enough for both of them."

He'd told her that once, Hermione remembered, deflating slightly at hearing it again in this context.

"I think I've been waiting for Theo," Daphne confessed, sounding pained. "I know that's probably stupid, but—"

"No. No, it's not." There was a low sound of shifting, as if Harry had taken her in his arms. "It's okay. Wait for him, then, if that's what you want. You don't have to do it alone."

"No, I think I should. It's… I'm ruining your relationship with Theo, Harry, and I can't—I can't do that. I don't want to be a pressure point in his life, I just… I want him to be happy. I want him to be happy," Daphne exhaled, "even if it's not with me. I have to move on, I think. Really move on. Or at least try to, and it can't be with you."

"Well, I suppose that makes some awful sort of sense."

"Yeah." A heavy sigh, and then another sound of motion. "And really, I should probably go find Pansy—"

Hermione leapt away from the door, heading the other way down the corridor as she hurried to distance herself from any evidence she'd overheard their conversation. She was blindly stumbling back toward the gardens when she collided with Blaise, who caught her by the shoulders.

"Everyone's already gone in," he said, pausing her, and then frowned, catching the look on her face. "What happened?"

"I—" Hermione paused, wondering whether it was worth it to say anything about Nott Sr, and swallowed heavily, confessing instead to her secondary concern. "I didn't know Harry still felt that way."

To her surprise, Blaise looked amused. "Ah, you figured it out. Good for you. Twenty points," he declared, and Hermione grimaced. "What? I promised."

"Yes, I know, but—"

"Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry," came from behind her, and Hermione turned to find Draco striding towards her, a smile of relief melting its way across her lips the moment she'd heard his voice. "I took ages, I know, but I at least have good news—my grandfather's agreed to meet you, and—" He paused, looking around and registering the odd lack of banter. "Hang on," he interrupted himself, bemused. "Where is everybody?"

"Detoxifying," Blaise said.

"What? Why?" Draco asked, frowning. "What'd I miss?"

Blaise and Hermione exchanged a glance.

"Let's put your stuff away before dinner," Hermione suggested to Draco, who shrugged.

"Okay," he agreed, looking pleasantly confused as Hermione led him away.

Dinner that evening was surprisingly unproblematic, which was an enormous relief, seeing as Hermione hadn't been particularly interested in explaining the intricacies of what had taken place. Instead, she summarized the events of the afternoon to Draco with an ambiguous, "It was… a bit messy." By the time they all met up again, Daphne was chatting pleasantly with Pansy and Neville ("She wasn't even French," Hermione heard Pansy sniff, "she was Belgian, and it was one time, purely for purposes of scientific study"), Harry and Blaise were chatting away about sports or balls or something, and Fleur and Theo were basking in the aftermath of a productive argument, everyone mostly back their usual selves as Draco recounted his most recent adventures in royal prince-ing.

The next morning, Hermione woke up to find a Draco-shaped vacancy beside her, a note on his pillow indicating he'd already gone downstairs. She pulled on a pair of yoga pants and one of his crewneck sweaters, shoving her feet into a pair of neon coral Nike Frees that Pansy loathed and Daphne coveted before making her way downstairs.

To her surprise, Draco and Harry were stretching in the living room, both wearing athletic clothes and laughing about something.

"—please, you only beat me one time and I had a cold, it was hardly fair—"

"What, are you scared, Henry?"

"You wish, Wales—"

"You two aren't about to race or something, are you?" Hermione asked, wandering in with a smile, and both boys turned to her with identical looks of mischief, the one on Harry's face flickering slightly as he stepped in her direction and then stopped himself, curling a hand against his thigh.

Draco, who didn't appear to have noticed Harry's hesitation, leaned towards her, kissing her cheek. "Good morning," he said, grinning down at her. "We didn't wake you, did we?"

"What, from about eight hundred rooms away? No," she assured him drily, shaking her head. "Just came down to see what you were up to."

"Ah, we're just going for a run," Draco explained. "Harry's done me the marvelous favor of pointing out my being in a relationship's made me go a bit soft."

"Physically," Harry assured her. "Emotionally he's always been this way."

"Kindly shut up," Draco advised him, and Hermione, who felt it was probably unnecessary to assure Harry that Draco's physique remained as impressively toned as ever, merely permitted a laugh. "Want to come along?" he asked Hermione, who blinked.

"What, me?" she asked. "With… you?"

"Of course," Draco said, turning to Harry. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not in the least. Actually, you should just go," Harry told them quickly. "The two of you, I mean. I'd rather not have the Prince of Snails here slowing me down anyway," he added, smacking a hand into Draco's abdomen as the latter bent over, accommodating an undignified proclamation of 'oof.' "Might actually get a decent run in if I go by myself," Harry teased, though Hermione noticed he wasn't looking at her as he said it.

"You sure?" Draco asked, and Harry nodded.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't embarrass you in front of your girlfriend," Harry promised him, sparing a wink at Hermione before heading for the door. "Just make sure you push him, would you, Hermione? He needs it."

"Ah, Henry, you wound," Draco called after him, but Harry merely waved a hand over his shoulder, already jogging down the corridor. Much as Hermione tried not to notice, the motion looked extraordinarily good on him; Harry was a natural athlete, and he certainly looked the part.

"So," Draco said, jarring her momentary distraction and drawing her attention back to him, "shall we?"

"I'm not very fast," Hermione said, making a face, and Draco laughed.

"Neither am I," he assured her, which she didn't believe in the slightest, but didn't bother pressing. "I'm rather pleased I won't have Harry making me look bad. Don't tell anyone, but I'm relieved possession of the throne isn't based on some sort of foot race or I'd almost certainly lose my crown to that arrogant bastard. Come on," he coaxed her with a nudge, kissing the top of her head. "It'll be fun."

"I don't think that word means what you think it means," she groaned, but conceded to follow him out to the gardens, taking a deep breath of exceptionally crisp autumn air before slowly jogging beside him.

"Well," she determined after about two minutes of running, "this is boring."

Draco laughed, hip-checking her briefly and then dodging her return shove. "Oh, come on. It's nice," he said. "Nice to not be thinking about anything, anyway."

"Have you been trapped inside your head again?" she asked him. "You seemed to be in a fairly good mood last night."

He pointedly lifted a brow, and she felt her cheeks flush.

"I didn't mean that," she said, though in fairness, the sex had been exceptionally good. That they'd had enough alcohol and were far enough away from anyone else to be less concerned with volume than usual was enough to put anyone in a good mood. "I just meant, you know. In general."

"Well, I always like getting away from everything," Draco said, and paused, their respective breaths starting to come in pants as they jogged. "I'd hoped my mother would be coming to my grandfather's annual gala next month, but it seems my father's still resistant. Evidently she's too unwell to see anyone right now," he said, and added with a touch of bitterness, "me included."

Hermione, who felt certain that was actually her fault, wasn't sure what to say. She focused on her breathing instead, and on the steady pace of Draco's gait beside her.

"At least my grandfather's agreed to meet you," he continued, more to himself than to her. "He was a bit dodgy about it all week, but then last night I got the go-ahead from my father, so—"

"Draco, um." Hermione bit her lip. "I met Theo's father last night."

"Oh," Draco said, glancing at her. "Last night, and you didn't say anything? I didn't even know he was at home."

"Well, I—" She hesitated, eyeing her feet. "I hadn't wanted to ruin the evening, and I wasn't sure it was relevant, but—"

"How was it?" he asked, looking a little concerned. He was speeding up slightly, which Hermione wasn't sure he'd noticed. She was struggling to keep up. "Meeting him, I mean. He's a good friend of my grandfather's, but he's…" He glanced at her again. "How was it?"

"It was—" She was breathing hard, her chest a little tighter than she would have liked it to be. "Well, I was. He was—I wasn't—"

Abruptly, Draco stopped, turning to face her as she hurriedly bent over, trying to catch her breath.

"He was a dick to you," Draco guessed, his expression hardening, and Hermione looked up with a wince.

"Well, it's not like… I mean, I don't really know what I would have expected, but—"

"The man's a brute, Hermione. I've known Theo my whole life, so I have some idea what his father's capable of making you feel." He reached for her hand, tugging her into his arms and resting his chin on top of her head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry these things keep happening, that I'm doing such a terrible job of protecting you from them. Worse, that you feel you have to keep them from me—"

"I just didn't know what to say," Hermione told him honestly. "It wasn't great, but it also wasn't terrible, was it? He must have told your grandfather it was worth it to meet me."

"Yes, but that doesn't excuse how he makes you feel," Draco said with a frown, pulling back to look at her. "You don't have to be alone in this, Hermione. I can carry my share of the bad things too, you know."

She held him a little tighter. "I know. I'm just not used to it."

"What," Draco joked, "you mean you don't get unpleasantly dismissed and reprehensibly belittled by aging aristocrats all that often?"

With that, he'd somehow managed to put into words precisely what Nott Sr had made her feel without even asking for the details. She felt a pang of hurt for Theo again, realizing Draco was right—he must have seen it many times before.

"I just meant I'm not used to handling things… not alone," she clarified. "Usually, you know, it's just me. I guess I haven't really adapted yet."

"Well, in my experience, you're very flexible," Draco said, lips twitching up at the corners with little traces of a teasing smile. "I would know."

She rolled her eyes and he bent his head towards her, laughing a little as he kissed her. His hands were steady on her hips, always so perfectly formed to the shape of her. She felt the curved muscle of his chest rise up under her palms, another in a perfect sequence of moments where they fit themselves together, piece by piece.

"We could keep running," Draco suggested. "Harry did say I needed a workout."

"I think there's other forms of cardio, if it helps," Hermione said, and he laughed, kissing her again. He glanced over his shoulder, gesturing to some particularly view-obscuring roses in the garden.

"Race you?" he suggested, and in response, she immediately gave him a shove, taking off without waiting for his count. "Wait a minute, that's cheating—"

He caught up to her, throwing his arms around her waist just as she reached the roses, both of them falling unceremoniously to the ground as they made a poor attempt to regain their breaths.

"Are all Americans this unsportsmanlike," Draco demanded, "or is it only you who lacks any conceivable sense of honor—"

She silenced him with another kiss, her hair already frizzy with dew from the grass, and he kissed her back with willing urgency, one hand creeping under her shirt and pressing flat against her stomach. She slid her fingers around the back of his neck, shivering a little as he ventured and probed, finding all the hidden spots that made her weak. He puzzled her out so easily, so effortlessly, and she tightened her legs around his hips, anchoring him in place.

"Hey," he said, pausing to brush her hair out of her eyes. "You're not alone anymore, okay? You don't have to be."

She nodded, and he kissed her again. This time, unlike the night before, it would have to be quieter and quicker than usual, and she couldn't help a little whispered burst of laughter as he nudged her yoga pants down just past her hips, clearly intent on clumsy, artless, and probably fantastic morning sex. He shifted her underwear aside with a subtle motion from his thumb, sliding it over her clit in the same stroke and leaving her to inhale sharply.

"This is indecent," she told him, helpfully shoving down his running shorts. "You should be ashamed."

"I'll lament my moral failings later," he said, sliding inside her with a stifled laugh as they both let out sighs of relief, satisfied. She wriggled in the grass, one of her hands shoved over her head as he twined his fingers in hers, and stifled a groan as he filled her. "I," Draco said, thrusting into her with a kiss to the palm she slid over his cheek, "don't think I'll ever get over you, Hermione Granger."

You'll make a fascinating footnote, Nott Sr's voice whispered cruelly in her ear.

Her opponents all had one thing in common, it seemed.

They underestimated her.

"Don't get over me, then," she whispered to Draco, arching her back, and he groaned softly in her ear, digging his fingers into her waist until they both finally collapsed, breathless and sated and positively covered in grass.

In the end, she did take some of Draco's advice, though not entirely the way he'd meant it.

"I need to do something," Hermione said when they returned on Sunday evening, "and I can't do it alone. I need you," she said, turning to Daphne, "because you're my best friend and I love you, and also, I'm very nervous. And Pansy definitely wouldn't approve," she added with a preemptive shudder, "so here we are."

"Understandable," Daphne permitted. "Proceed."

"And I need you," Hermione said, turning to Theo, "because I know you'd stop me if I was doing something truly and gloriously stupid, but probably not if it's anything less than that."

"Noted," Theo agreed. "Also worth noting: I'm very excited. This feels highly secretive and candidly, I'm invigorated."

"I agree," Daphne said, glancing at him as he arched a brow at her. Now that it was just the three of them, some semblance of normalcy had returned, albeit under strange and possibly stressful circumstances. "There's a very reprehensible element to all of this. Are we murdering someone?"

"Burying a body?" Theo guessed.

"Solving a crime?"

"Framing someone?"

"Yes, actually," Hermione said to that, and then paused. "Well, sort of."

Daphne and Theo exchanged another glance, then looked at Hermione.

"You should probably just say it," Daphne advised, and Theo nodded his agreement.

"Yes, right, okay. So." Hermione took a deep breath. "Prince Lucifer isn't going to let Narcissa out of his sight, right? That's a given."

Daphne and Theo nodded, obviously in agreement.

"But," Hermione said slowly, "the only thing worse than the public thinking something might be wrong is… the public thinking there's nothing wrong."

Theo blinked, frowning. "Explain."

"Well, if the press were to print something about Lucius intentionally keeping Narcissa away from her son for no real reason, then surely she'd have to make an appearance in public," Hermione said. "Right? They'd want to prove nothing was wrong, that everything was normal, and that would require the three of them appearing somewhere for everyone to see. So…"

She trailed off, and Theo nodded sagely.

"Ah," he said. "So you want to do a stupid thing."

"What kind of stupid thing, exactly?" Daphne asked, and Hermione winced.

"IwannasendananonymoustiptoRitaSkeeter," she said.

"Come again?" Theo beckoned, and Hermione sighed.

"I want," she clarified slowly, "to send Rita Skeeter an anonymous tip. To pose as someone on the inside," she explained, "and plant the seed that all is not well with the Waleses, and the problem isn't Narcissa's health. If Rita Skeeter writes an article about it, Narcissa will have to come to Abraxas' gala, just to give the appearance that everything is fine. They'd have no choice, would they?"

Daphne looked at Theo, who looked back at Daphne. Then they each looked into empty space for a second, and then back at each other, and then, finally, at Hermione.

"If anyone found out it was you," Theo began, grimacing, and Hermione shook her head quickly.

"I'd find a way to make sure they didn't," she said. "But it barely even has to be substantiated, right? I'd just say Narcissa's perfectly fine, but she's being… well, held hostage, really. It's barely a secret, and it's not even a lie," she pointed out. "Prince Lucifer would be forced to prove otherwise, so—"

"It's brilliant and stupid," Theo said.

"Yes," Daphne said, nodding. "I agree."

"And you could never tell Draco you did it," Theo added seriously, "so you really shouldn't do it at all."

"Yes," Daphne said, nodding again. "I also agree."

"Oh," Hermione said, deflating slightly. "So… well, never mind, then—"

"Hang on. I said you shouldn't do it," Theo cut in, glancing briefly at Daphne. "But that doesn't mean we can't."

"What?" Hermione asked, taken aback.

"You're our best friends," Daphne reminded her, shrugging. "Do you really think there's anything we wouldn't do for you and Draco?"

"But—"

"You can never mention this again," Theo warned her. "Seriously, never. Put it out of your wild curly-headed thoughts this instant."

"Yes," Daphne curtly agreed. "None of this ever happened."

"You guys," Hermione exhaled, stunned. "Are you sure you—"

"Hermione, not now, please, we're very busy," Daphne said, rising to her feet and beckoning for Theo to follow her. "Nott, a word in private? I know perfectly well you've got nothing else going on."

He stood, loping after her. "Well, Greengrass, if you insist, though I don't appreciate the insinuation."

"Insinuation?" Daphne echoed, rolling her eyes and pulling open Hermione's bedroom door to exit. "Fact, Nott, fact—"

"Please," Theo scoffed, "I am rigorously scheduled—"

"Wait," Hermione said, breathlessly launching herself into their path. "I, um." She glanced between them, sighing it out. "I love you," she said, and they both made a face.

"Please don't," Daphne said. "We're English."

"Right," Hermione agreed, a bit sheepish. "Right, well, that's, um. That's—"

"And also, we love you, too," Theo said grandly, patting her head and beckoning for Daphne to follow as they disappeared, leaving Hermione to smile vacantly at the walls of her empty room.

Rumor is Theo's dad laughed when he found out Draco had proposed to me, and if I'm being honest, I can't say I blame him. I didn't have a lot of interactions with him, thankfully—but I did get to witness him being brutally told off by his future daughter-in-law, and she, true to form, did a better job of it than I could have ever dreamed.

I had other things to worry about at the time, but still, it's the small things. It's important to celebrate the successes, as my mother always says.

Particular when there were still so many forking obstacles to come.

a/n: Did you happen catch my EXTREMELY SUBTLE hints that this is very much a comedy which will ultimately end well? There is merely heightening tension, as of course any happy ending must always be earned. (Sidebar: I do not know how long the story will be; I never do, I do not outline, everything is a mystery, live dangerously, amen.) Anyway, thanks for reading! The playlist for this fic is now available on Spotify, and you can find a link to it on my tumblr.