The night was chilly, and she was thankful for the cloak that her mother had draped across her before she left. It smelled of her mother's perfume- like orange blossoms and cream. She was dressed in her favorite robes. The fabric looked green at first, but silver silk had been woven through each thread, so that it subtly glittered when the light struck it.
She was following her father up a stone walkway, towards a towering Manor. Unlike Malfoy Manor, Riddle Manor could never be considered 'pretty.' It was stately and intimidating, sure- but the hard edges and uniform grass was hardly a place where she could imagine growing up.
The ground around her was covered in brown, dead grass. A lonely pear tree stood nearby, it's leaves ragged. She quickened her pace so that she could stay close to her father.
Just as they reached the front door Lucius whirled around to face her.
"You don't have to do this." His eyes were wild with fear, "We can run. We can go home, get your mother and brother, and hide until this all blows over." He reached to take her hands. "I won't ask you to do this."
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "And then what, Papa?" Her brown eyes searched his grey ones, "Wouldn't we be in more danger that way? And can you really imagine Draco hiding? He'd run back to England before the end of the first hour."
She was right, and they both knew it.
His eyes closed slowly, and he leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "Then you must promise me something, sweetheart."
"Anything."
"If the Dark Lord asks you to do something to me, you must do it."
"Papa?"
A strange look had entered his eyes when he pulled away to look at her. Licking his lips, he said, "He wants to know that you value him above all else. If anything happens to me, I want you to keep that in mind."
Horror was growing in her stomach, but she nodded anyway.
"That's my girl," he sighed. He turned and knocked sharply on the door.
A moment later the door opened, revealing a pathetic-looking man with balding hair and a round, drooping face.
"You!" He squeaked, clearly remembering the time Hermione helped Harry save Sirius.
She lifted her chin, and stared coolly back at him.
Lucius scowled at him, "Is that the way you address our lord's honored guest?"
Honored guest? She personally thought that was laying it on a bit thick, but she followed her father into the cold manor.
They climbed a large staircase, and Hermione felt as if she were walking through a dense fog. Snatches of details came to her- the plush green rug in the upper corridor, the sound of a violin playing, someone laughing loudly.
Then they were walking through an open door, and her father was addressing a pale, red-eyed man who sat in a tall wingback chair before the fire.
"Allow me to introduce my daughter, Hermione."
A hush fell over the room. All eyes were on her as she sank into a curtsey. Voldemort sat before the fire like a king on a throne. There were chairs beside him, but only one was occupied. All the other occupants of the room were crowded against the opposite wall.
A table sat in one corner, piled high with meats and cheeses. Several bottles of spirits were laid out as well, and most of the men had glasses in their hands.
There was a scurrying sound behind them, and then a breathless- "My lord, Lucius and Miss Malfoy-"
"Thank you Wormtail, that will be all."
His voice was cold, and higher pitched than she had expected. Those red eyes were burning into her, and- wait, was she smiling? Yes, she could feel it pulling at her cheeks. Why was she smiling?!
"There's the smile, do you remember me then, little one?"
No, she did not, but it was as if she had no control over her body. She nodded, "Yes, my lord."
A thin, snake-like smile stretched across his face, "So polite. Lucius, you've done well."
"Thank you, my lord."
"Come, child. Sit." A glance at the person beside him sent the man scurrying across the room, and Hermione took a seat on the vacated chair nearest him. "I apologize for the lateness of the hour. We've been busy today, haven't we?"
There was a chorus of "Yes!" and Hermione found herself still smiling, as if she wasn't urging her dinner to stay in her stomach. "I don't mind."
The room was full of faces she had seen before. Crabbe senior, Goyle senior, Mulciber- all friends of her father's, who gave her friendly nods as she looked around. Aside from the chairs and the table there was nothing else in the room. No portraits hung on the wall, no carpet adorned the bare floorboards. It was a lonely little room, crammed full of people used to living in luxury.
And yet, it didn't feel sparse. All eyes were on the pale man in front of her. He seemed to be more than enough to fill the space.
"They tell me you were sorted into Gryffindor."
It didn't feel like a question, but she nodded, "Yes. I've just finished my fourth year."
"And you are friends with Harry Potter?"
Someone coughed in the corner, and she twined her fingers together to try and keep them from shaking. "Yes."
Her father fidgeted beside her, "As I said the night you returned, my lord, we felt that such a friendship would be useful in the future. In the event of your return-"
What? She glanced sharply at her father. They had talked about her on the eve of the Dark Lord's return? Had Harry heard? She briefly replayed his behavior on the train- could it be that he-
No. She was not going to think about it. She closed off those thoughts and retrained her attention to the man in front of her.
"I see." he blinked slowly, his long fingers caressing the carved arms of his chair. "I agree. It could be beneficial to our cause. Tell me," he leaned forward, "Do you like being in Gryffindor."
It was as if he had found the one thing that could override the fear. "No!" she spat, drawing a surprised gasp from somewhere in the room. "I hate it there."
Lucius gave an affectionate chuckle, "Hermione has been covering her walls in green and silver since she was little. It came as a shock to all of us when she was sorted into Gryffindor."
"Is that so?" He regarded her thoughtfully. "Perhaps Dumbledore did not like that she was so inclined towards greatness. He always was the one to clip the wings of greatness- I think he has a hard time believing anyone can soar as high as he." He smirked, "But he will be blindsided, will he not?"
This last statement was addressed to the entire room, and the obligatory laughs followed.
"Still," he continued, "There is use in having a lion among our ranks. The last one proved to be somewhat of a disappointment," Wormtail let out a pathetic squeak as his master shot him a derisive look. "But then, it is the lionesses that hold the real power. Or so I hear. Wouldn't you agree Severus?"
A familiar face had appeared in the doorway, and she met the expressionless eyes of the potion's master. He nodded in greeting, "I believe that's how it works, my lord. Potter certainly does not have the capabilities necessary."
"So I hear."
There was a quiet pause, in which Snape was offered a drink by Avery. His eyes continued to linger on her, even as he took a seat on the other side of the room. For a moment, she wondered if they would be leaving soon. It had been a very long day, and her head was beginning to pound.
But someone handed her father a glass of firewhiskey, hesitating as if they were thinking about giving her some as well.
"Would you like to try some of mine?" Lucius asked, adding "Don't tell your mother," when she took a drink, and immediately began coughing. It burned the back of her throat, and seemed to sizzle as it slid towards her stomach.
Voldemort laughed, "I never cared for the stuff either. Avery, do you still have some of the elf-made wine? I think Miss Malfoy might prefer that."
She did, and she found that she enjoyed listening to him recount some of his adventures in Slytherin. He was truly a gifted storyteller, and she found herself completely captivated by his account of how he located "all of the hidden passageways" in Hogwarts.
"Oh, but look at the time," he said, sitting back at last. "Half past one in the morning. You must be getting her home, Lucius."
She started, looking around to realize that all the others had left, save for Wormtail, Snape, and her father.
"I believe you're right," said Lucius, standing.
"It was very nice to meet you," she said, smiling voluntarily this time. "I liked hearing your stories."
When he smiled back, it seemed a little less creepy than before. "I enjoyed your company as well, Miss Malfoy. Next time perhaps I'll get to hear some of your stories."
"I should be getting back as well, my lord. I have a potion-"
"That's fine, Severus. Go tend to your brews. Goodnight Lucius, Hermione."
They all offered their goodbyes, and exited the Manor in silence. Lucius' face was pale, but thoughtful. Snape looked as stoic as ever, and Hermione was lost in thought, her mind replaying the last few hours.
They used side-along appartation to return to Malfoy Manor, but to her surprise, Snape joined them.
The mask of stoicism was gone the instant their feet touched the plush lawn of Malfoy Manor.
"What are you thinking, Lucius?" Snape hissed, shoving the pale-haired man against the brick wall that surrounded the Manor. "Bringing her there? Of all places? Why don't you just slip poison in her soup, or shove her in front of a herd of acromantula?"
"He didn't seem that bad," she said, surprising herself. It was true. He had been a perfect gentleman. She could see why Bellatrix lov-
Horror shone in Lucius' eyes. "Don't be fooled, Hermione." Her father's words were slow, deliberate.
Snape released him, and stepped closer to her, sneering. "That's how he gains his followers, Hermione. He charms them. You have never been a stupid girl , now would be a terrible time to start-"
"He wants you to like him, sweetheart. That's why he was so nice. Remember that this is the man who killed your friend's parents, who tried to kill your friend-"
"He does what he must to gain followers, but it's only because he needs them. What could possess you to take her there?"
"He asked me to-"
Snape looked as if he had just confessed to setting kittens on fire for the fun of it, "Are you insane? Next time tell him that she's staying at a friends, that she's gone abroad."
"I can't-"
"Tell him that she came down with dragon pox-"
"I CAN'T Severus!" He yelled. His hair was in his face, and Hermione could not remember her father ever looking so helpless. She did not like it. "Dumbledore has ordered it as well. He wants her to get close to him. If I refuse he'll take her from us!"
Hermione felt as if something hard had struck her in the chest.
Snape straightened, his eyes widening. "Dumbledore would never-"
"He would. He's said as much." He let out a strangled sob, and Hermione moved closer, wrapping her arms around him. She buried her face in his chest, letting him pull her close.
"I'm not going to lose her, Severus." The whisper was hoarse, ragged. "She'll be in danger either way, but Dumbledore could never love her as I do. He doesn't have her best interest at heart. I do!" A broken sob escaped from him, and he doubled over, whispering, "I can't lose her."
"Oh Lucius," disdain sounded in Snape's voice. He looked much paler in the moonlight, and he did not move to comfort his friend. "If Dumbledore's involved then you already have."
That's not true! She thought, holding tighter. She was kneeling on the grass now, and she could feel her knees growing damp. Her mother was going to kill her if she got grass stains on her robes.
But that was not important now. She glared angrily up at Snape- her father's best friend, her other uncle.
"I can handle this," she spat, wishing that she could hex him and actually get away with it.
Black eyes filled with pity. "There's the Gryffindor in you. I guess you aren't quite the embodiment of Slytherin after all."
There was pop as Snape disapparated, and Hermione helped her father back to the Manor. Her face burned scarlet as she thought about his words.
She lay in bed an hour later- after she had explained to her mother why her father was so distraught. Lucius had seemed reluctant to let her leave his side, but he finally relented when Narcissa pointed out how tired she must be.
"To bed then," he said, eyes lingering on her face. "And sweetheart… What Dumbledore said- about why we adopted you-"
"There's no need, Papa." She insisted, unwilling to explore that discovery at this particular moment. Then added, after a brief pause, "I love you."
He evidently heard the question in her voice, because he stood, and wrapped her in his arms. "I love you too, Hermione. Don't ever forget that."
His grip was so tight that it sort of hurt, but she could not help but feel as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her. It was just as comforting as it had been a decade ago, when she would crawl into her arms to escape the bone-chilling fear that came from the Dementors. As long as she still had her father she could deal with anything.
She felt him kiss the top of her head, and smiled. Then she climbed up to her room, got into bed, and let her thoughts fill her head.
Dumbledore had threatened to take her away. She could not believe it. All her life Uncle Albus had been supportive. The jolly presence in her life, bringing sweets and offering a listening ear. Her father had to have been mistaken. He was just overtired.
She rolled over, pulling her pillow into a new position as she tried to get comfortable.
And the Dark Lord had not seemed as bad as everyone thought. Had that been the most dangerous man in the world? Everyone seemed terrified of him. Dumbledore, her father, Snape, Avery… but he had not seemed terrible. A little narcissistic perhaps, but not scary.
But he was! He had killed Harry's parents. And her parents were clearly afraid of him. They had never been afraid of anything...
Her parents… Her eyes stung, and she wiped at them irritably. Her father loved her, that she had no doubt of. But he hadn't at one point. He probably hadn't even wanted her. She had been forced upon them. Did that change things?
Her stomach churned violently, and she could taste the bile in her throat. She shoved those thoughts down, down as deep as they could go. It didn't matter that she wasn't wanted at first. They wanted her now didn't the? And even if they didn't really, it didn't matter. She was a Malfoy. Nothing could take that away from her. Not the Dark Lord, not even Dumbledore.
A dry sob wrenched itself from her throat, and she buried her face in her pillow. The whole room felt as if it was spinning.
Had Dumbledore interfered with the hat? Of course not. It was ludicrous. Voldemort was just a very skilled actor. That had to be it.
"Well Doveling, what have you been up to lately?"
A burning anger took root in her stomach as Bellatrix's cheerful voice popped into her head. Who was she to ignore Hermione for so long and then waltz in without a care in the world while she was so conflicted?
Go away.
"There's no need to be rude. Especially not when the Dark Lord-"
I SAID GO AWAY!
Turnip let out a surprised bark as her pillow soared across the room and smacked against her door.
She threw up her Occlumency shields, and tuned out Bellatrix's angry shouts.
There was a jingle as Turnip jumped onto the bed and wriggled into her lap. He licked her hand fervently, whining a little as she struggled to slow her breathing. It was too dark to see what color he was, but she knew it wasn't the usual sky blue.
Eventually the wubble's calming magic worked its magic, and she fell back against her remaining pillows.
All she wanted to do was sleep, but her mind was a jumble of Hogwarts passages, lemon drops, and her father's terrified voice.
And no matter what she did, her thoughts kept drifting back to that damn hat.
A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews! I am always grateful for the responses. When I first started writing I was convinced that no one would be able to read my stories, and I'm so happy that you all like it!
Please let me know what you think of the new chapter.