The Dark Lord was back.

Hermione picked at a loose thread on her robes as the Hogwarts Express zoomed towards London. Across from her, Draco and Harry were half-heartedly looking through a Quidditch magazine.

For the past few days Harry had been isolating himself from everyone except Draco and Ron. She had tried to speak to him several times since the Third Task, and each time he had managed to slink away without glancing up from the floor.

She realized, of course, that he was going through quite a lot. But then, so was she. Professor Moody, who had been pushing her harder than anyone else these last few months- as if he was trying to figure out what she was capable of- was a Death Eater.

Bile rose in her throat, and she struggled to take deep breaths in order to calm herself. Bellatrix had been silent. She could feel her friends joy-which seemed the be impervious to the Dementors right now- but she had not tried to speak to Hermione at all since that night.

Hermione scowled at the boys. She did not like being ignored. Not by Bellatrix, and certainly not by the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Are you going to tell me why you won't look me in the eye?" she snapped suddenly, causing both boys to jump. A chocolate frog fell onto the floor and made a bid for freedom through the cracked compartment door.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said, idly flipping the page. She noticed that he seemed to be staring at the exact same spot on the page.

Unlike those around her, who had spent the last few days in melancholia (Harry and Draco) or euphoria (Bellatrix), Hermione had been in a constant state of irritation. She was constantly cold, despite the summer warmth- this she figured was the result of Dementors feeding on Bellatrix's never-ending joy. And not even Turnip could alleviate her bad mood. He lay with his head on her lap, his fur a mottled grey and black, and stared mournfully at the wall.

"Don't lie to me, Potter," she snarled, her tone harsher than she intended.

Both boys gaped at her.

"Who spat in your pumpkin juice?" asked Draco, closing the magazine slowly. Harry looked sorry to see it go.

She inhaled sharply, "He hasn't been able to look at me since the night of the Third Task!" she hissed. "It's not my fault that I want to know why." She raked her fingers through the fur on Turnip's head, causing the wubble to huff.

"Maybe's he's trying to cope with the fact that he saw someone die!" shot back Draco.

"Maybe he should let his friends know how he's feeling, so that we can help!" Hermione hissed.

Her brother glared at her, and shook his head, "He obviously doesn't want to talk about it."

"If he just felt sad because of Diggory, he'd be able to look at me."

"You're imagining things!"

"I am not!"

"She's not," Harry said softly. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere else at that moment. "I… I didn't know how to tell you…"

She drew herself up, and fixed her gaze on him. "Tell me what."

The sunlight streamed golden through the window, seeming out of place in the tense compartment. Harry pulled his glasses off, and carefully began cleaning them with a corner of his shirt. "He was there. Your father- Mr. Malfoy was there, and he didn't do anything."

Both siblings grew still, their eyes meeting. And both came to different conclusions.

"Coward."

"Draco! He is not!"

"Then what is he, Hermione? What kind of a man stands there while someone tortures a kid. A kid who happens to be the best friend of his children?" Draco looked furious.

"He was surrounded by Death Eaters! What would have happened if he had-"

But Draco cut her off, "Surrounded by Death Eaters. Hermione, he is a Death Eater!"

Turnip was now sitting up, his gaze firmly fixed on Hermione. To her surprise, the grey spots were changing rapidly to a deep sapphire blue. She could feel tears forming in her eyes, and she fixed her gaze decidedly out the window.

The boys went back to their Quidditch magazine, awkwardly making conversation as they struggled to forget the last five minutes. Turnip clambered into Hermione's lap, rested his chin on her chest, and gazed lovingly up at her. She felt the familiar calming warmth spread over her, taking away the panicky feeling in her chest.

She did not speak to either of them until they arrived at King's Cross.

"I hope you have a good summer, Harry," she said stiffly, pulling down her trunk. Draco was already out of the compartment.

"You too," he said, tracing the pattern in the carpet with the toe of his worn muggle shoe. "I hope you know that I still… you're still my friend, Hermione. It wasn't your fault." He looked up at her, green eyes earnest, "I'm sorry."

Something thawed inside of her, and she threw her arms around him. "You're still my friend too, Harry. Owl me if the muggles try to starve you, I'll send food."

They grinned at each other, and she followed him off the train. She could not help but feel relieved that her mother had decided to come alone.

While she could see the point behind her father's actions, it was evident that Draco could not. They took a portkey back to the Manor with their mother, landing on the plush grass in the front garden. Lucius, dressed in light silver summer robes, advanced to greet his children-

And was pushed away instantly by Draco.

"Don't touch me!" he cried, cheeks burning. "How could you stand by and watch that- that man torture Harry? What's wrong with you?"

Narcissa moved to touch his arm, and he jerked away. "Don't make excuses for him, mother."

Lucius looked as if Draco's words had been a slap. "Draco-"

"Don't bother," Draco grabbed his trunk and stormed towards the Manor, scattering peacocks as he went.

Lucius looked after him, a pained expression on his face. In the six months since she had last seen him, he appeared to have aged ten years.

She stepped closer to him, and slipped her arm through his. "Hello Papa," she smiled up at him.

The sadness remained in his eyes as he turned to look at her. Reaching out to tug on one of her curls, he whispered, "Hello sweetheart."

"Did something happen on the train?" Narcissa tapped Hermione's trunk and Turnip's basket with her wand, banishing them to her room.

Hermione watched her brother disappear into the Manor. "No," she lied, trying to sound casual. The tone of her voice was unconvincing, but Narcissa decided to let it go.

The rest of the day was tense. Draco came down from his room for dinner, but spent it scowling at his father and using as few words as possible to answer his mother's questions. When his father quietly asked him to pass the salt, Draco threw it at him and stormed from the table.

He had never behaved this way before. Hermione gaped at his retreating back, worry sinking her stomach. I'll have to speak to him after dinner, she thought. Hopefully she could make him realize that if Lucius had not remained passive he could not have come home from that… ordeal.

Unfortunately, that talk was not going to happen.

Midway through an uncomfortably silent main course, an elf appeared and whispered urgently in Lucius' ear. He nodded wide-eyed at Narcissa, "He's here." To the elf, he added, "Please take him to the Drawing Room."

Both of her parents turned to look at her, and she felt a current of fear jolt through her as she took in the identical worried expressions.

"Hermione, darling…" her mother took a deep breath, and plastered a smile onto her face. "Professor Dumbledore is here to meet with us. Have you had enough dinner?"

Confused, she nodded.

"Well, we won't keep him waiting then." her voice was unnaturally high. "Come along then. Lucius, tell the elf to bring tea."

Her mother's cool hand slipped into hers, squeezing reassuringly as she led her towards the Drawing Room. Her father followed behind, his breathing ragged, and she turned to look at him questioningly, but Narcissa was walking too quickly for her to do anything but try to keep pace.

Dumbledore's orange and cobalt robes looked very out of place among her mother's decor, yet he seemed as comfortable as ever. "Good evening Narcissa, Lucius," he nodded to each, and then smiled broadly at Hermione, "and Hermione. Come, have a seat."

It was strange to be told to sit in your own home, but Hermione obediently sat in one of the white velvet chairs. Her parents pulled up chairs on either side of her, as if they were trying to buffer her against something.

The elf brought in tea-along with lemon scones, raspberry jam, and shortbread in the shape of lions- something Mardie only made on Hermione's birthday. In the bustle of everyone taking their tea, she found herself staring at the little lions, a small frown working it's way over her face.

"Now then, Hermione. The time has come for certain revelations to be made-"

That did not sound good. He sounded as if he were regaling her with a tale from his glory days, but her parents stiffened on either side of her.

"You know that few in our world know that you have been adopted."

She did not like this topic. Surely he knew that? Nevertheless, she nodded.

"And you know that those who knew you were adopted believed you to be a Halfblood."

Again, she gave a tight nod.

"The Dark Lord himself is a Halfblood."

This she did not know, and she felt a small stab of surprise.

"Voldemort-" he did not appear to realize that both of her parents flinched at the use of his name, "was born Tom Marvolo Riddle. His mother was a witch, his father was a Muggle. He was raised in a Muggle orphanage, where he learned to hate them."

A strange expression grew over his face, and when he continued, his voice had saddened somehow.

"When your parents came to me, asking to save their newborn son from the Dark Lord I saw an opportunity to create something the Dark Lord would be automatically invested in. A Halfblood orphan raised into Pureblood society. A child, like him, but with the opposite upbringing. The upbringing he wanted, because he thought that he had a hand in creating it. I showed him what he could have been had he been raised in his ideal life. Naturally, he feels connected to you somehow. We can use that connection-"

Her father's arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her into him.

"It's too dangerous." he hoarsed. He was deathly pale, and he gazed wide-eyed at Narcissa.

She took Hermione's hand, "I agree. Hermione is too young-"

"That's precisely why it's perfect! Voldemort will never suspect her! He will view her as his student, his protegee, and he will have no inkling that she is secretly working with the Order!"

She had never seen him like this. Had never seen any of them like this. Lucius looked like he was about to collapse, Narcissa had half-risen from her chair, and looked like a cat about to spring at an enemy. Dumbledore's face was red, his eyes boring into Narcissa's.

"This is lunacy."

Dumbledore did not blink as he took in Narcissa's words. "You did not think so when you agreed to it fourteen and a half years ago."

Her mother fell back into her seat, dropping Hermione's hand.

For the first time in her life, Hermione felt a stab of anger towards the man she thought of as her uncle. "You say that the Dark Lord and I have a connection-" she spat the word, "but he doesn't even remember that I exist!"

"They haven't told you then?"

Hermione scowled back at him, "Told me what?"

Lucius cleared his throat, "The Dark Lord has requested a... meeting... with you." He slowly dragged his eyes up from his lap.

"Tonight."

A/N: An update, within 24 hours? What can I say, you guys are particularly motivating. I know, these last 2 chapters were super short. But the next one will be longer. I'm hoping to have it out at the end of the week.

ALSO- Bella is completely lost in her own fantasies right now of Voldemort and her reconnecting. She's been riding the high of feeling his summon, so she hasn't been tuning in to Hermione at all since the final task.

Thank you so much for everyone who favorited/followed/reviewed. I love hearing from you, and it really keeps me going.