"I wish we could have stayed overnight," grumbled Draco as he and Hermione followed their parents into Cornelius Fudge's tent.

"I will not have my children sleeping amongst common criminals and thieves," Narcissa said sternly, reaching over to brush back some of Draco's hair.

"Oh ho, Narcissa!" Chuckled Fudge, "These 'criminals and thieves' are just your average Ministry Employees."

He turned his back before he could see the mocking smirk cross Narcissa's face. "That's exactly what I meant," she said quietly to Lucius.

"Play nice," he returned. "If you push, he might insist to host us overnight."

The two adults shared a look, and Hermione felt her brow knit in irritation. She hated it when they left her out of things.

They leave Draco out of these schemes too, pointed out Bellatrix. She had been in a much better mood since the end of the past school year, and it could be heard in her voice.

Sniffing, Hermione forced her face to return to its neutral state. "Draco doesn't care about the bigger picture," she retorted acidly, "the only things he cares about are Quidditch and his stupid Hufflepuff pride," the moment the words were out of her mouth she felt guilty. "And his family," she added hastily, cheeks pinking in shame.

As if her guilt was not bad enough, Draco chose that moment to nudge her affectionately. "Do you think Mrs. Fudge likes the color lavender?" he asked, waggling his brows at her.

They had come into the main sitting area of the Fudge's tent. Everything, from the shag carpet, to the tea cosy, to the hideous brooch at Mrs. Fudge's throat, was lavender.

Narcissa blinked, as if in shock, though the sugary smile never left her face.

"Your choice of decor is sublime," purred Lucius, kissing Mrs. Fudge's hand. Unsurprisingly, the older woman let out a shrill giggle and blushed.

"Oh, Lord Malfoy, you are too kind." She was seated at a table full of scones, sandwiches, and several plates of intricately molded chocolates.

Fudge pulled out a chair for Narcissa, and then for Hermione. Lucius and Draco took their seats as well, and Fudge sat down beside his wife. "Narcissa was just suggesting that our camp is full of criminals," he smiled at his wife, "She refuses to stay overnight."

"Why that's ridiculous!" Gushed the woman, using her wand to levitate the teapot over their cups. "We're safer than anywhere in Britain!" she said over the sound of pouring tea, "And Britain is the safest place in the world!"

"Ooh, she's in for it now," cackled Bellatrix, "Cissy hates when people tell her she's ridiculous."

Narcissa pulled herself up to her full height, and took a delicate sip of her tea. "Has anyone caught Sirius Black yet?"

Fudge, who had just taken a deep gulp of tea, choked and sputtered while his wife blushed a deep crimson.

Draco and Hermione exchanged glances. There were only four people who knew what she and Harry had done that night. Draco, because he was Hermione and Harry's best friend, Ron Weasley, because he had been present when Sirius and Pettigrew told their story, Dumbledore, because he had orchestrated the whole thing, and Bellatrix.

Mrs. Fudge decided to change the subject, "So, Draco, I hear that you are a chaser for Hufflepuff?"

"The best chaser in the school!" affirmed Hermione.

Draco shook his head, "Not yet, but I will be."

"And our Hermione is the top in her year, every year," boasted Lucius. He winked at Hermione over his scone.

"That's what I hear. What's it like to be the first Malfoy in Gryffindor?"

"Tell him you hate it."

I don't.

"Yes you do. Every day you wish you had been sorted into Slytherin."

But I don't hate it. At least I have Harry.

Bellatrix was silent at that. And a strange, hot feeling filled Hermione's ears.

"It's a wonderful house, and I'm proud to be a part of it." She pulled the jar of strawberry preserves closer to her, and selected a scone from one of the platters. Hopefully no one would talk to her is her mouth was full.

Her brother piped up, "Hermione's not the first Malfoy in Gryffindor. She's the third."

This is why I love him, Hermione told Bellatrix, unable to stop the grin that crossed her face.

Bellatrix was silent.

"Narcissa, you must try these chocolates. The Mexican Ambassador brought them to us."

Mrs. Fudge spent the better part of an hour telling the Malfoy's all about her experiences in Mexico. Her stories might have been interesting, were they told by someone else. But Mrs. Fudge punctuated every story with a shrill laugh, and after the third or fourth of such a laugh, Hermione felt as if she should do the world a service and rip Mrs. Fudge's vocal cords out herself.

Know any good silencing spells? She asked. When Bellatrix didn't answer, she felt a flicker of irritation. Are you going to be angry for the rest of the day?

Silence.

Hermione let out a growl of frustration, and all five heads turned to look at her.

"Sorry," she said, blushing furiously, "It just occurred to me that Bulgaria might have a chance of winning with Viktor Krum on their side."

The adults laughed at that, and talk turned to Quidditch and the upcoming match.

Half an hour later, Mrs. Fudge insisted that "The children" be allowed to take in the sights of their camp.

"Afterall," she added as she summoned a crystal decanter from what Hermione assumed was the kitchen of the tent, "It's not every day that you can take in the eccentricities of lesser cultures."

Draco's hand digging into her arm was the only thing that kept Hermione from asking what, exactly, Mrs. Fudge meant by that remark.

The siblings escaped from the tent into the fresh air of the field. Tents of every shape and color surrounded them, and Draco happily pulled her through the chaos. Most of the older witches and wizards had decided that now was the perfect time to pull out the firewhiskey and butterbeer. Laughter roared around them, and frazzled Ministry officials darted here and there.

"You cannot sell those!" shouted a particularly pale-looking official to one of the vendors. A large purple bruise was sprouting over his jawline, and he shook a handful of pamphlets at the woman.

The sour-faced woman was carrying a box of shackled garden gnomes. The poor creatures had been painted green, and wore miniature uniforms in the style of the Ireland team. The sign on the box read:

"Lucy's Lucky Leprechauns! Guaranteed luck enhancers- 15 Galleons."

Her eyes roamed over the creatures, and one of them scowled unhappily at her. Scrunching up his face, he blew a raspberry at her.

As if he sensed Hermione's outrage at the situation, Draco tugged at her elbow, "The Ministry will take care of it," he said from the corner of his mouth.

Would they really? Hermione had her doubts that "Lucy" would be punished with more than a slap on the wrist and confiscation of the gnomes. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but to her surprise he let go of her.

"But I forgot, you're a headstrong Gryffindor now. There's no telling you what to do."

It wasn't fair. Her cheeks pinked slightly as she scowled at him. "I am not a headstrong Gryffindor." She spat, straightening her summer robes. They were soft blue with small pink roses. She did not consider herself the type who enjoyed floral patterns, but her mother had designed it herself, and Hermione had to admit that it looked good on her. Much better than red or gold.

As Draco pulled her to watch several fire-dancers, she scowled at his socks. Their mother would never allow him to wear his badger pride in an outrageous, flamboyant way (he had once asked for yellow robes that had flying badgers on them- Narcissa had been scandalized) but she had never explicitly forbidden him from wearing the socks Mrs. Weasley knit for him every holiday. Today they had badgers that frolicked happily across his ankles. How he had been able to acclimate so readily to a house that wasn't Slytherin was beyond her. Had Mrs. Weasley ever sent her Gryffindor socks (not that she had- and Hermione refused to feel left out because of that) Hermione would have sent them promptly back.

Twelve years of being best friends and siblings had made Draco extra aware to Hermione's bad moods, and he spent a large part of the afternoon cheering her up. They found a Honeydukes employee selling ice mice and a frozen drink that changed colors. It was called "Bertie Botts Glacier Extract", and despite Hermione's misgivings Draco purchased two and insisted she try it.

It turned out to be quite good. They quickly found that it changed flavors along with the color. Draco took delight in calling out each of the new flavors, drawing interested glances from the witches and wizards around them.

"Rose!" He chirped, sucking down some of the vibrant pink liquid as they moved past a group of young children chasing a charmed dragon puppet. Every few steps it would stop and roar- showering the children with chocolates and brightly wrapped sweets.

"Hello Draco!" A pretty blonde girl Hermione vaguely recognized waved happily at them.

He smiled, and waved back, "Hi Hannah. Cheering for Ireland?"

Nodding so hard Hermione was certain her head would fly off, Hannah tapped the shamrock pinned to her robes, "My sister has a potion that will make our hair turn green. Would you like some?"

He shook his head, "No thanks, I don't want 'Mione to feel left out." He elbowed her playfully.

Hannah drew closer, her smile never dimming, "We have plenty for everyone," she offered. Giving Hermione's hair a calculating look, she added, "We might need to use extra, because your hair is darker, but there's enough for all of us."

"Thank you," Hermione tried not to laugh, "but I must refuse."

"Mother would kill her," said Draco, slurping his now blue drink, "Peppermint!"

"She considers my hair to be her personal battle in life," sighed Hermione. She took a drink of the now-orange liquid, and smiled as the taste of mango filled her mouth.

Giving the glossy brown curls a significant look, Hannah responded, "But your hair is so pretty!"

"Only because Mother has sacrificed half of her soul to Morgana to make it that way," Hermione stated seriously. She could have lived for a year on what Narcissa had spent so far this summer on hair care products.

Hannah patted her own hair, which was slightly frizzy from the heat, "Oh."

The Dragon chose that moment to spew chocolates and sweets all over the three teenagers, saving Hermione from having to recover their awkward conversation.

"We'd better be getting back," said Draco, tugging on Hermione's elbow. "We're supposed to have dinner with the Minister, we don't want to be late."

"Oh, er. See you later then," said Hannah, patting her hair again. "It was really nice to see you."

"Pepper." Said Draco as the drink turned red. "Bye, Hannah!"

They left her there, patting her hair and staring forlornly after them.

"She likes you," whispered Hermione as they made their way back to the Fudge's tent.

Draco shrugged, "Hufflepuff's a nicer House than most. We're all friends."

Incredulously, Hermione arched an eyebrow, "I think she likes you as more than a friend."

"What, Hannah? No, she doesn't."

Hermione let the subject drop, but suddenly felt as if she should have allowed Hannah to dye her hair green.

Dinner was an exciting affair. In their absence both the Bulgarian Minister and Ludo Bagman had arrived. Barty Crouch was there for a time, but he ducked out halfway through the soup course, and did not return until dessert was nearly over.

Fudge personally escorted the party to the top box, where Hermione's stomach dropped as soon as she saw who she was sharing it with.

There, in the front row, was Ronald Weasley.

Although the Weasleys had all accepted Draco (even Ron had decided that the boy was trustworthy, on account of his Hufflepuffness) most were still quite suspicious of Hermione. Ron went as far as to verbally accuse Hermione both of being the Heir of Slytherin in their second year, and of hand-delivering Neville's list of passwords in their third. The fact that Hermione had been ushered away midway through the second year did nothing to stop his suspicions.

Doing her best to ignore him, she gave polite greetings to the rest of the Weasleys, and beamed when she saw Harry. She made a point to sit directly behind the messy-haired wizard, and smiled smugly when Ron scowled in her direction.

"Hello Harry, having a nice summer?"

He grinned, "It's getting better. Why are you here? I thought you hated Quidditch?"

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she lowered her voice, "Politics," she jerked her head towards Cornelius Fudge, "When the Minister invites you, it would be rude to stay home."

"I see. Well I hope you don't find it too boring."

"Of course she will," Draco joined the conversation. "I'm surprised she didn't bring a book."

Turning red, Hermione whispered, "Mother wouldn't let me." Her face burned darker as the boys burst into laughter.

"Nice to hear children having a good time," remarked Fudge in a fatherly voice.

The talk turned to Quidditch, and with Hermione out of the conversation Ron felt comfortable enough to engage in some friendly banter with Draco about whose House team would win the Quidditch cup this year.

Do you care about Quidditch? She asked out of boredom. She was not surprised when no response came, but she could not help feeling annoyed.

The event began, and when it came time for Bulgaria to display their mascots, Hermione could not help but gasp.

The most beautiful women she had ever seen were dancing on the pitch. She felt as if her lungs had collapsed as she watched them spin and dance. Their hair was so lovely, and she felt certain that if she were to draw nearer they would smell like fresh strawberries. She had to do it, she had to get closer-

"Boys, no!"

Hermione blinked, feeling as if she were being snapped back into her body. The Weasley boys and Harry were all in various stages of climbing over the edge of the box. Ron had one leg over, and was gazing mournfully below as Mr. Weasley yanked them back into their seats.

Draco laughed openly at them.

And Bellatrix snickered in Hermione's head.

"Your welcome," whispered Draco.

Still feeling slightly dazed, Hermione asked, "For what?"

"For saving your reputation. Halfway through that little spectacle you started to rise along with that lot, and I pulled you back down. Imagine how embarrassed you would feel if you had been caught climbing over the cage like some uncontrollable-" he could not seem to find something shocking enough, so he dissolved into laughter again. Luckily, it drowned out the next Veela display.

A strange feeling entered Hermione's stomach. She felt a blush spread over her face, and was so distracted by her inner thoughts that she missed the entire match. The next thing she knew, everyone in the box was standing up, clapping and cheering as the Irish team's Leprechauns flew overhead.

She started to get to her feet, but fell heavily back down. There was a strange pulsing in her veins, and she felt as if she was being pulled backwards.

"Hermione, love, are you feeling alright?"

Hermione tried to tell him that she was fine, but suddenly the world was spinning around her, and everything went black.

A woman was shrieking, Hermione couldn't see anything, but she knew that the woman was shrieking because of her.

"Tell me where he is!" a desperate voice barked.

The shrieking stopped. "I already told you," the woman rasped in a voice far too defiant for Hermione's liking. "He's gone! Can't you feel it? That hideous mark on your arm is gone, isn't it? Your Master is never going to threaten us again!"

Pure terror raced beneath Hermione's skin, and she knew she wanted to hurt this stupid woman. She was going to make her pay for those words…

"You shouldn't be here." Bellatrix's voice cut through her thoughts. Her tone was gentle, soft, and Hermione felt as if it was a splash of cold water bringing her to her senses.

Bella, what's happening?

There was a sigh, "Dementors, doveling. This is what happens when the dementors come close to my cell."

But… I've never heard-

"I know. And I hope you never do again. Wake up now, your parents are worried."

Now, different voices filled Hermione's ears.

"We need to get her home, now."

"Come now, Lucius, she's perfectly fine here. I've sent someone to fetch a medic."

"I would feel more comfortable if our family healer examined her."

Hermione's brows knit together, it sounded as if the voices were coming from the bottom of a very deep well. Something cold was on her forehead, and when she moved to take it off she found that her arms were trapped beneath something.

"Cornelius, really. We've already taken up too much of your hospitality-"

"Nonsense, Narcissa. It's nothing, really. I'm sure you'd do the same for me."

Hermione wrenched her eyes open. She was lying in the middle of the Fudge's tent. There was a thick, purple blanket wrapped around her, and she struggled to free her arms from it.

"Oh, darling. Let me help you."

Her mother came to her aid, pulling the damp cloth from her forehead, and pulling Hermione into a sitting position. She plucked the blanket from her daughter with her thumb and index finger.

"What happened?" asked Hermione tiredly.

Narcissa stroked the hair away from Hermione's forehead, and peered into her eyes. "We need to get you home," she said.

"I agree. Draco, grab Hermione's cloak." Lucius scraped his chair back and stood. Draco hurried to fetch the light cloak from Mrs. Fudge.

Fudge looked like he was a small child finding out that Christmas would not be coming this year. "It would be better if the child were not moved. You could make the damage worse."

Hermione was certain that was not an actual thing, but she was very tired. She leaned against her mother, letting her head rest on Narcissa's shoulder.

But her mother was not about to let her rest. Carefully, she pulled Hermione to her feet, and took the cloak from Draco to drape it around the brunette's shoulders.

"Cornelius, Mrs. Fudge, thank you very much for your hospitality."

The Fudge's bade them a polite goodnight, and soon the four Malfoys were making their way through the camp.

All around them people were laughing, shouting, drinking. Songs were shouted from all directions, their lyrics slurred. A headache bloomed behind Hermione's eyes, and she decided to ask for a pain potion as soon as they got home.

Then her parents stopped walking abruptly. "We're too late!" breathed Narcissa.

Looking up, Hermione's eyes widened.

A little way the path marched a group of masked, hooded wizards. They held their wands straight up, and marched in bone chilling rhythm. Dangling in the air above them were four muggles.

"Lucius, the children-"

"I'll take care of it, Cissa. Go."

Draco and Hermione exchanged a confused glance as Narcissa darted across the tents in the opposite direction. She disappeared from sight.

There was a flash of green light, and Lucius took both of his children by the arm, steering them from the path.

"I need to make sure that the Minister sees me," he explained, apparently the severity of the situation made him more frank than usual. "They won't mess with magical children, but I want you two to go to the woods. Stay there until I send for you."

"Why can't we go with you?" asked Draco.

Hermione looked at the lines on her father's face, and wondered if she had ever noticed them before.

"During these demonstrations, things can get a little… out of control. I don't want to take chances. Go behind the tents, don't let them see you."

There was a fresh wave of screams, and they all peered around in time to see a dozen silvery animals spring from the campsite towards the masked figures.

"Patronuses," breathed Lucius, pulling his wand out.

Draco's hand reached for hers, and he pulled her towards the treeline. Children of every age were racing among the trees.

"I see the Weasleys," he panted. "If we join them-"

"I don't want to!" Hermione struggled from his grasp, "We should have stayed with Papa!"

"He'll be fine!"

But they lost sight of the Weasleys shortly after that. The woods were dark, and though Hermione was not afraid, she was grateful that her brother was with her. They walked into the trees for a while, and then started heading closer to the treeline so that they would be easier to find.

"I think I see Harry," said Draco, pointing to two figures ahead of them. One was carrying a lantern, and by its light Hermione could see the messy black-haired boy, and his redheaded shadow. They appeared to be scanning the ground for something.

She rolled her eyes, "Figures that of all the Weasleys…"

"He's not so bad when you get to know him," defended Draco. He was helping Hermione climb over a tall tree root. She still felt a little woozy, but the adrenaline was helping her move.

"You don't spend every class with him," grumbled Hermione. "I basically live with him during the school year. Believe me, he's awful."

"Maybe it's not hate that you feel," teased Draco, winking at her.

She smacked the back of his head.

"Ow! Hey, I was just kidding!" He laughed at the expression on her face, "Besides, I saw you when those Veela-"

But his sentence was cut off as a strange voice cried out "Morsmordre!"

A green stream of light shot into the sky, twisting to create the image of a skull with a snake coming from its mouth.

Instinctively, she moved closer to Draco. They were so shocked from the emergence of the Dark Mark that they didn't see the caster until he was standing right in front of him.

He was a thin, younger man with sandy blonde hair and a manic grin on his face. He waved his wand, and the two teenagers had their feet wept from beneath them. She gave a cry as she landed heavily on her hip.

There was a flash of silver, and soon a shining silver bear took shape above them, it's teeth bared at the strange man. Comfort swept over her, as if she knew the bear would keep them safe.

"Alright, I concede," the man let out a strange laugh that raised the hair on the back of her neck. There was a pop! And he was gone. Hermione stood, her hand clutching Draco's, as a voice in her head snarled:

"Run, you stupid girl! Run!"

She did not need to be told twice. Grasping Draco, she bolted through the forest. The bear clambered alongside them, disappearing as she crashed into someone. The scent of her father's cologne filled her nose.

"Mione? Draco? Thank Merlin!"

She was clinging to Lucius tighter than she had in years, and she felt her brother do the same.

"Fudge gave me a Portkey, come on now, everyone grab on-"

Hermione clutched the item without looking, and felt the familiar tug of the Portkey. She had never been so happy to feel the swirl of nausea as she crashed into the lawn of Malfoy Manor.

Lucius wasted no time in marching his children into their home. They agreed to change into their pajamas and meet in his study.

Shortly after, Hermione padded into her father's study wearing blue pajamas with little purple pegasus' flying across it. It had been a christmas present from her father- a nod to her childhood obsession with Percival the pegasus. Draco was wearing an almost matching pair- only his were adorned with flying broomsticks.

Lucius plunked two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in front of them, and then added a potion bottle for Hermione. She drank the potion first, and felt the headache and weariness drain from her body.

"Where's mother?" Draco asked, "Is she…"

Lucius smiled, "She's fine. She had something that she needed to take care of, but she will be home later tonight." He sighed, and picked up his glass of firewhiskey. "I wanted to tell you… You need to be prepared-"

Something was very wrong. "Papa, what is it?"

He inhaled sharply. "The Dark Lord will rise again. Dumbledore's always claimed that he would, but I don't think he expected-" He cleared his throat, "We all have parts to play in the upcoming war, and I wanted you to know that no matter what- no matter who we pretend to be," he made eye contact with Draco, and then Hermione, and the witch was surprised to see the fierceness of his gaze, "we are Malfoys. And in the Malfoy family, we are loyal to our own first."

They finished their drinks in silence, and then he said goodnight to his children. They left him there, glaring furiously into his glass.

Although she was tired she could not sleep. She tossed and turned in her bed, finally giving up and going to her window seat. It was the best place in the Manor to see the front gates and the lawn. She leaned her forehead against the glass and peered intently at the gate.

A few minutes later there was a tentative knock on her door. A few seconds later it creaked open, splashing light from the corridor across her floor.

"Mione, can I come sit with you?" Draco sounded younger than he had in years.

She smiled, and nodded. "Bring that throw blanket," she pointed to a plush silver blanket that lay tangled at the foot of her bed. The manor had always been cold at night, and the worry made it feel much colder than usual.

He brought it, and the two cuddled under it, their faces pressed against the window. They kept their vigil for hours, but at some point right before dawn, they drifted off to sleep.

That was how Narcissa found them in the early morning hours. She felt her chest swell with love for her children, and knew that she was doing the right thing.

"We're going to get them through this," she whispered to Lucius, who looked as if he had aged ten years overnight.

"Yes, but will they be the same?"

She knew they were thinking the same thing as they took in the sight of them sitting side by side. Draco's head resting against Hermione's shoulder.

Probably not.

A/N: Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews! You guys make my day. Please let me know what you think of the new chapter, it was kind of giving me a hard time. But it's out now!