The scarlet steam engine roared merrily to life as Hermione followed her mother and brother onto Platform 9 3/4. The scene was just as hectic as usual, with students shouting greetings at each other, and the sound of animals complaining as their cages were bustled about.

Yet there was a somber note that had never been there as well. Parents stuck closer to their students, their eyes scanning the crowd fretfully. Aurors flanked either side of the Platform, stopping people periodically to ask questions, or pass them a pamphlet on safety. And then there was the presence of the black armband- a signal that a loved one was missing, maimed, or murdered.

One woman glared openly at the Malfoys as they passed. "Death Eater whore," she spat, a claw like hand tightening around the shoulder of her daughter.

"What did you call my mother?" asked Hermione hotly, stopping to face the woman. Several people around them had stopped to watch them, and she felt like cursing every single one of them. Turnip, who had been trotting at her ankles, flashed an angry red and growled.

The woman's eyes never left Narcissa. "I called her what she deserved," she said in a hoarse voice. "My Billy never hurt nobody," her voice cracked, and Hermione noticed the strip of black fabric knotted too tightly around her left arm. "He didn't deserve that- he didn't deserve that."

Her daughter, a younger Ravenclaw girl, was blushing furiously. She too sported the black armband, but it was more of a ribbon. "Mum," she whispered, shrinking into her robes as far as she could go, but her mother ignored her.

"How dare you come out into public with decent people!?"

By now Hermione could see several Aurors making their way over, but she didn't care. "You shut your mouth, you filthy, stinking-"

"Hermione, darling," interjected her mother smoothly, "Don't engage with the rabble, it only encourages them."

Oh, but she wanted to. Something itched in the back of her throat, like a caged animal dying to be released. It was only when Draco slid his arm through hers that she reluctantly broke her gaze and followed her mother.

"That poor woman," he murmured, even as said woman began another volley of insults.

Hermione shot him a glare, "She has no right insulting our mother like that. If it weren't for all the witnesses I would-"

"Would what, exactly?" he asked coolly. She didn't like the ice in his gaze, or the was his arm stiffened.

"Nothing," she said quickly.

There was a new tension in their relationship ever since she had begun training with Bellatrix. Draco had not said anything to her yet, but she could feel him watching her carefully and judging some of the things that came out of her mouth. She was certain he still trusted her, but for the first time in her life she wasn't certain that his trust would last. Or that she deserved his trust.

"Now, I've had Mardie pack lunches for both of you," their mother said once they had loaded their trunks into a compartment. "Hermione, I've had to special order your hair potions from Paris, so they will be owled directly to you by the end of the week. Let me know if they are delayed."

Hermione nodded, and felt a lump growing in her throat. Her mother had decided to remain at the Forest Cottage through the school year, and the thought of her in that tiny, lonely little patch of land…

"I'll keep an eye on her," promised Bellatrix quietly. Though her animagus form could not penetrate the wards around the cottage she could still keep an eye from afar.

Thanks, thought Hermione miserably.

The smell of orange blossom surrounded her as her mother wrapped her in an embrace. "Be careful, my darling," she whispered. "I want you to focus on your studies this year. If Severus wants you to take an extra class with him that's fine, but I've made it very clear to both Dumbledore and Severus that you are to have as normal a school year as possible."

Hermione nodded, wishing for the thousandth time that she could remain at home.

Her mother kissed her forehead, and turned to Draco. "I do wish you would let me have some proper robes sent for you," she sighed.

Flashing her an easy smile, Draco folded her into a hug. He was now taller than both his mother and his sister, and Hermione found herself wondering when that had happened.

"I'll be wearing my school robes most of the time anyway, Mum," he said, laughing. "And my badger robes are my favorite. You wouldn't want to deprive me the chance for individuality, would you?"

Hermione thought privately that his style was beginning to mirror Dumbledore's a little too much for true "individuality," and the pained expression on her mother's face told her that she agreed.

There was another round of goodbyes, and more hugs, and then Hermione and Draco boarded the train.

Narcissa remained on the platform, given a large berth by the other family members, and waved until the train had pulled out of sight.

"I wish she would go back to the Manor," Hermione sighed quietly once their mother was out of sight. "I hate the thought of her being all alone in the middle of nowhere." Turnip rested his dark blue head on her lap, and gave a low whine. Gently, she ruffled the fur behind his ears.

"It's better than her being alone in the Manor," said Draco, "where any Death Eater could come traipsing in without a moment's notice."

There was an uncharacteristic note of venom in his voice, and she looked sharply up at him. "You're not talking about any Death Eater are you?" she challenged, feeling heat rise in her face. "There's only one Death Eater who has access to the manor, and she would never do anything to hurt mother. Never."

Turnip's ears were turning a brilliant red, but the wubble merely whined and snuggled closer to her.

Draco's cheeks were burning pink as he glared at her from across the compartment. "You don't know that, Mione. You don't know anything about her. Just because you spent the summer being trained as another mindless soldier-"

"Mindless soldier? Is that really what you think?" she scoffed, drawing herself up to her full height, "You don't know anything about my training-"

"I know that you're being stupid!" he burst. He ran an agitated hand through his hair and leaned forward. "I saw the way you looked at her, Mione. And you're too smart to fall for someone like her. She's a ruthless murderer!"

"Bella is not-"

A triumphant gleam appeared in his eye, "So it's "Bella" now, is it?"

A low, gentle voice sounded in the back of her mind, the first sign that Bellatrix was witnessing this interaction. "Careful, Dove. He's got a right to his opinion about me."

Not if this is his opinion, thought Hermione angrily. To him, she snapped, "You don't know anything about it, Draco!"

He sat back, looking more like their mother than he ever had, "I know that you're letting your feelings get in the way of your rational thought."

"My feelings have nothing to do with anything!" she spat.

"I don't believe you," he said quietly. His grey eyes were cold and accusatory, and it hurt her to look at them. She had never seen anything but love shining back from him. "Hermione…"

"I'm only doing what Dumbledore wants me to do," she protested, knowing it was a lie. "He wants me to infiltrate the Dark Lord's ranks, and that's what i'm doing."

"Does he want you to fall head over heels for a psychopath?" shot back Draco. "Don't pretend to be shocked, anyone who saw her escort you back to the cottage boundaries would know how you really feel. Holding her hand. Laughing and joking about with that- that creature. Like she was a dear friend instead of a monster-"

Something bitter filled the back of her throat. "Don't you talk about her like that!" she growled. "Don't ever call her that. You don't know anything! How dare you?!"

"Hermione, you need to calm down right now. Before you do something you regret."

It was only then that she noticed that Turnip was entirely red, and that she had drawn her wand from it's regular place up her sleeve, and was pointing it at him. With an anguished cry, she dropped it, and stared wide eyed into his shocked gaze.

"You don't know anything about it Draco." Her voice broke on the last word, and she felt shame as she had never experienced boil in her stomach. How could she raise her wand to him? Her little brother? A sob clawed it's way from her throat.

He licked his lips, and reached out to gently grasp her hand. "You can tell me anything, Mione. You're my sister, and I will always love you. Even if I don't…"

This was it. The moment she had been looking for since her first night in Gryffindor Tower. She could finally tell him about the connection that tied her to Bellatrix. How she knew Bellatrix better than anyone, and how it made her position more difficult than he could imagine.

Yes, she could come clean. His eyes were warming up as she gazed at him. He had always accepted her…

But she let the moment pass.

"Just, don't talk about her, Drake. Please."

He gave her hand a friendly squeeze, "Alright. We don't need to talk about her right now." There was something in the way he said the words that indicated that they would be talking about it at some point. But she did not care.

He left shortly after to go say hello to his friends, and she curled up on her seat, with Turnip pressed tightly against her, and wished she were back in the woods.

"Miss Malfoy!"

Hermione groaned internally a few days later as Professor Snape called her back to his desk after his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

She slowly made her way to the front of the class, and tried not to flinch when he flicked his wand and slammed the door shut behind the last pupil. She had not been sleeping well the last few days, and it was beginning to take it's toll.

"The Headmaster will be busier this year than usual, and he has asked me to step in and continue your extra lessons."

"I don't need extra lessons," she said sullenly.

His black eyes regarded her, and she knew what he must be seeing. Though her clothes were impeccably pressed, and her hair neat and orderly, her skin was much paler than usual. Deep purple bruises had bloomed beneath each eye from lack of sleep. Her lips were chapped and bruised from near-constant chewing. During the summer she had been a thriving girl in the full bloom of youth, and the contrast to her current depressed appearance was stark.

"It's a difficult thing," he said in the gentle tone she had only heard him use with her and Draco at the Manor, "to find yourself pulled in two directions. Don't forget that I myself have been in your position for more than a decade."

"Not exactly in my position," she groused.

He blinked slowly, and folded his hands, "You are correct. I do not have a mental and physical connection to Bellatrix Lestrange. I'm sure that complicates your position enormously."

She gaped at him. How did he… When-? Horror filled her as she opened and closed her mouth several times.

"Please sit, Hermione," he said silkily.

As if invisible hands were guiding her, she sat in the chair that materialized in front of his desk.

"The Headmaster is not entirely convinced that you are aware of the connection," Snape continued, "and your father has convinced himself that you grew out of it. Your mother and I, however…" He pinched the bridge of her nose, "we are aware that both you and Bellatrix are aware of the connection."

"I'm not apologizing," she said suddenly. "I still use occlumency regularly, but I'm not closing her out entirely. You can't make me!"

He held up a hand, "There's no need to be so defensive," he said, his voice expressionless. "I'm not asking you to do anything you're not comfortable with. If you are amenable I would like to test your occlumency shields. I also believe that I promised you that I would teach you proper glamour charms."

She nodded, feeling somewhat uncomfortable.

"What is wrong?"

She shifted in her seat, and slowly dragged her gaze up to his. "I don't… I don't know if I'm capable of being who Uncle Albus wants me to be."

He blinked. "To be quite honest, I don't care much about Albus' plans. Nor do I care for the Dark Lord's. Neither of them have any business involving you in the war. Yet here you are." He sighed. "I am not a family man, you know that. But your father made me the godfather to you and Draco, and I take that very seriously. If there's one thing you can be sure of, it's that my interest in training you is to get you through this mess alive. That's all I want for you, no matter how it happens."

She could feel her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Will you allow me to give you weekly lessons?"

She nodded mutely, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. There was a creak of his chair, and then he was leaning over his desk, offering a snowy handkerchief to her.

"Th-thank you."

"Of course. I've reserved our sessions for Wednesdays after dinner. We can begin next week. I'll have a syllabus drawn up, and I have to order a few books…"

She slowly pulled herself together as he continued to tell her about his plans for their lessons. She could not help but feel a flutter of excitement at the subject matter. Eventually, she felt grounded enough to stand. Her free period was halfway over, but she had enough time to get a decent start on her first essay of the term.

Before she could stop herself she was on her feet and moving around the desk to hug him.

He let out a sigh that lacked it's usual bite. "What have I told you about personal space?"

She laughed, and hugged him tighter. "Sorry, Uncle Sev."

He patted her on the back gently, "I'll overlook it this time, considering the circumstances."

A/N: I don't know what I'd do without your reviews! I adore you all, and I'm so glad to know what you think of this story. Please keep them coming!