Autumn wind rippled through the treetops and sent a shower of orange foliage fluttering down. Hermione, cozy inside her new cloak, broke away from the crowd of Hogwarts students heading towards Honeyduke's, and made her way towards the Owl Post office.

Pushing open the door, she was surrounded in the must that came from hundreds of birds roosting together. The rafters were full of feathered bodies, some staring at her with glittering eyes, others emitting soft hoo-ing noises as they dozed.

"Can I help you, love?" Said the witch behind the counter. She was a few years older than Hermione, with a cheery smile and short black curls.

Stepping up to the counter, Hermione offered a smile in return. "I believe there's a letter here for me."

"Name?" called the witch, twisting to the door that sat behind her.

"Hermione Malfoy," Hermione called as the witch disappeared into the back, she emerged a few seconds later with a slim black envelope.

"Arrived this morning. I would've thought that the Malfoys had enough gold to own their own owls-"

Hermione's eyes narrowed at the girl, and she snatched the letter from her. "What the Malfoys spend their gold on is none of your business." she said in her coldest voice.

The witch's smile vanished, "I didn't mean anything by it," she protested, but Hermione was already gliding through the doorway, tucking the letter into her schoolbag as she went.

Since it was early, the Three Broomsticks was still relatively empty. She slid into a booth, ordering lunch from Madam Rosmerta as she did so.

She pulled the black envelope out of her bag and stared at the silver letters that formed her name. Hermione Malfoy. She recognized the smooth, curling lines immediately, and knew who it was from.

The Dark Lord. Of course, they decided to use the code name "Your Friend" instead, just in case the letter fell into the wrong hands.

Ripping open the envelope, she pulled out the parchment and read:

Dear Hermione,

Thank you for your letters. It is a refreshing change to hear from someone with more intelligence than a House Elf. You cannot imagine how tedious my conversations with Wormtail can be. Yesterday I asked his opinion of Merlin's Allegory of the Thestral. You have never heard such a blithering attempt of an apology, I assure you.

To answer your question: no, I never cared for Hogsmeade weekends. Nor do I have a favorite sweet from Honeydukes.

How has Potter seemed to you? Is he losing spirit now that the entire wizarding world is turning against him? Has Dumbledore coddled the boy into a false sense of security yet?

Have you given any further thought to my offer? Your father tells me that you'd like to be Minister one day. Such ambition is praised, certainly, but you will need the proper support if you want to get there. Think about it some more. I will hear your answer at Christmas.

Fondly,

Your Friend

Dumbledore had been the one to suggest that she begin writing to the Dark Lord weekly.

"He has only ever had blind loyalists," he had explained, "but maybe knowing the affection of a child will help him open up more. Perhaps it will even save your life one day, Hermione."

She had not pointed out that she was no longer a child.

As Madam Rosmerta brought over a steaming bowl of stew, a basket of rolls, and a steaming mug of Butterbeer, Hermione thought about what she would say.

"Ahh," said Madam Rosmerta with a wink, "Writing love letters then? I remember that age."

Pink bloomed on each of Hermione's cheeks, but she could not stammer the words before Madam Rosmerta let out a mirthful chuckle, and swept away to help a new wave of students.

"It's not a love letter," said Hermione feebly a few seconds later. She half expected to hear the familiar teasing in her head about this most recent blunder, but a crash of loneliness swept over her when none came. Bellatrix was still ignoring her.

She picked up her spoon and scooped some of the savory stew into her mouth, burning her tongue a little in the process. With her other hand, she fished a self-inking quill and some parchment from her bag.

Forcing Bellatrix from her mind, she wrote:

Dear Friend,

Potter is not doing well. Our conversations are always short, so I don't know specifically what's wrong, but he's much paler than usual. I don't think he's getting any support from Uncle Albus, in fact, I think my uncle is avoiding him altogether. He's definitely not getting any support from the staff. Our new Defense teacher, in particular, has taken a strong dislike to him, and seems to enjoy tarnishing his reputation. She's absolutely worthless as a professor, I think the Ministry wants us to be unable to defend ourselves.

If you don't have a favorite sweet, that just means you haven't tried hard enough to find one. I'm sending you one of Honeyduke's sampler hampers, hopefully you'll find something you like. Please don't share with Wormtail.

I look forward to seeing you at Christmas, and I assure you that I will have an answer for you then.

Affectionately,

Hermione

She scowled at her writing. This was not the way she should be addressing the Dark Lord- as if he were a beloved family member- but Dumbledore seemed to think it would work. She finished her stew, and several rolls, and downed the Butterbeer in a gulp that would have made her mother scold.

If she were being completely honest, she would rather he view her as an adult. Someone to be respected. Not someone who sent chocolate and signed off with "Affectionately". She might as well spray perfume on the parchment, and draw several hearts on the envelope.

She stuffed her letter into an envelope, and (after a trip to Honeyduke's for the sampler hamper) returned to the Owl Post office.

"Back again, then?" Said the same witch from earlier. Her smile was not quite as bright as before. "Listen, about before-"

"I'd like an owl to deliver this to Malfoy Manor at once," demanded Hermione, setting the hamper on the counter. She tucked the letter in amongst the chocolates and sweets, and then levelled her gaze on the witch. "Will it be two owls, or three?"

"I think two ought to do it," said the witch, her cheeks scarlet. "But I'll only charge you for one."

It was a silly thing to be angry about, Hermione knew, and she willed herself to smile at the girl, put her at ease. Instead, what came out of her mouth was, "Charge for two. The Malfoy gold will cover it, I guarantee it."

"Y-yes miss," the poor girl looked as if she were about to cry, but Hermione threw a handful of galleons down on the counter.

"I trust this will cover it?"

"Yes! Of course, I'll just get your change-"

"There's no need. Just make sure it's sent at once."

Without pausing to hear more from the witch, Hermione turned on her heel and stormed back through the door-

-and collided with someone on the sidewalk.

"Oof!"

"I'm so sorry," sputtered Hermione, blushing as she drew stares from students on the street. "I didn't see-"

"It's alright," said a female voice.

Hermione blinked as she took in the appearance of the woman- girl really- who she had just run into.

Her short, spiky hair was bubblegum pink. One eye was brilliant turquoise, the other yellow. She wore a purple leather jacket, and a long black-and-yellow scarf that reached down to her knees despite being wrapped several times around her neck.

"Tonks," the girl said, offering her hand to the gaping Hermione.

She closed her mouth at once. "Hermione Malfoy," she jumped to shake the other witch's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Malfoy?" eyebrows raised in surprise, "Are your parents Narcissa and Lucius?"

"Yes."

A bright smile stretched across the girl's face, "That makes us cousins then!"

"It- It does?"

"Yep! Our mothers were sisters. Are sisters, more like. I knew I had two cousins, but I didn't know when I would meet you!"

Hermione found herself with the girl's arm over her shoulder, being steered back towards the Three Broomsticks.

She knew, of course, that she had an estranged aunt somewhere. But it had never occurred to her that said aunt (or her offspring) would ever enter Hermione's life.

"Rosmerta!" bellowed the girl as they strode into the Three Broomsticks. "Two Butterbeers please, one for me, and one for my dear cousin! Oh, bless her, I think she's embarrassed."

'She' was in fact more mortified than she had ever been in her entire life. Nevertheless, she allowed herself to be pushed onto a barstool, and dutifully took a gulp from the frosty bottle that the barmaid passed to her with a smirk.

"So, what's Aunt Narcissa like?" asked Tonks. She looked perfectly at ease, as if she ran into estranged family members all the time.

"Erm…"

There was a warm chuckle. "Not very talkative, are you? Is Draco the same?"

"Is Draco the same as what?"

Hermione felt as if she were part of an elaborate joke as Draco came up from behind them.

"Are you Draco?"

All he did was nod, and she turned to pull him into a hug. "Draco!"

His surprised eyes found hers over the leather clad shoulder.

"She's our cousin," said Hermione feebly.

"Tonks," corrected the witch, pulling back to order another Butterbeer.

Draco was pushed into a seat, but unlike Hermione he seemed to be delighted with the turn of events. "Which one is your mother?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. You would have loved this conversation, she told the brick wall of silence in her head. Then again, she'd probably be pissed that Draco wasn't smart enough to come to the correct conclusion on his own.

"Andromeda. And Ted Tonks is my father."

"Wait, your parents named you Tonks Tonks?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as Tonks laughed out, "No! Mother named me Nymphadora, but would you allow people to call you that?"

Draco laughed into his Butterbeer.

"Anyway, I heard it was a Hogsmeade weekend, and I wanted to come invite you personally."

"To what?" asked Hermione. Her fingers pressed against the icy bottle, as if she was bracing herself.

Tonks grinned at her. "To Christmas dinner. Mum had proper invitations, but I forgot them." she shrugged, as if to say What can you do?

"Christmas dinner? With blood traitors?" the words were out before Hermione could stop them.

Tonks' smile never dimmed, but something like pity grew in her eyes. "Well, technically it would be Christmas dinner with a Blood traitor, a Muggleborn, and a Half-blood."

"Of course we'll go," Draco said, giving Hermione a hard look. "Ignore her, she's dehydrated."

"I am no-"

"Is that a Hufflepuff scarf?" Draco plowed on, shaking his head slightly at her. "Were you in Hufflepuff?"

The older girl's gaze softened as it slid to the boy. "Yeah," she said. "You a 'Puff too?"

He nodded proudly, "First Malfoy ever," he crowed. "And Hermione's the first Gryffindor."

"Is she?" Tonks' eyebrows raised in surprise, "I would have thought-"

"Slytherin? Me too! I'm still convinced that the Sorting Hat was drunk."

"Draco!" Hermione screeched, standing up. "That's not funny!" The two continued laughing. "Right. Well, I've got a lot of homework to finish, so-"

Tonks' laugh died in her throat.

"Oh, come on Mione. We were just kidding."

Apparently she was the only one who did not find the worst day of her life funny. Angry tears pricked at the corner of her eyes.

"Hey," now Tonks' smile was gone, replaced by a gentle kindness that hurt worse, somehow. "I'm sorry. It's not every day you meet your long lost relatives." She reached out to squeeze Hermione's hand. "It was very, very nice to meet you. I look forward to getting to know you better."

Not trusting herself to speak, Hermione nodded.

"I'll see you at Christmas?"

She nodded again, and turned. Ignoring Draco's cry of "Mione!" she fled through the door, and into the frigid wind.

A/N: We've made it to 300 Reviews! So have another Chapter to celebrate.

I know a lot of you were looking forward to seeing Andromeda and Narcissa reunite properly, but you will be seeing them interact at Christmas dinner in the next chapter!

Please let me know what you think!