The wind whipped Hermione's hair and stung her cheeks pink as she circled Vercingetorix above the narrow courtyard. In the past week she had been to no less than five Ministry Housing buildings, and each time they had told her flatly that they would not speak to her unless Ma Griesly told them it was beneficial. It had taken a bit of work on her part, but she had finally figured out exactly who Ma Griesly was, and where she lived.

As soon as Vercingetorix touched down the smell hit her. Like warm garbage and urine. Sharp and eye watering. This particular courtyard was cleaner than the last few. It was well-swept, and the inward-facing balconies were strewn with fresh laundry. The well situated in the middle of the courtyard was whole and tidy, and the shack with four doors that she understood to be their toilets was marked with a sign that read "Wash Hands After Using or M. G. Will Know!" A metal basin for washing up sat next to it, the bar of soap still fluffy with bubbles.

A group of four children sat playing gobstones nearby, and they stared open-mouthed at her.

Hermione plastered on a warm smile, "Hello, can one of you point me to Ma Griesly's home?"

Three of the children ran off, leaving behind a boy of twelve or so. His black hair was cropped so close to the skull that she could see the white of his scalp. His robes were old and patched, but clean. Dark brown eyes glared suspiciously at her. "You with the Ministry?"

She had been asked that question at each building, and she shook her head. "No, I'm not."

He squinted, and got to his feet. "She doesn't usually accept visitors," he said, scowling.

"It's important that I meet with her," Hermione said, dropping her smile. Perhaps the boy would be more receptive if he saw that she was serious.

Apparently he was, for he shrugged and muttered, "Wait here!" before scampering up a rickety flight of stairs. He disappeared through a door.

"Hopefully we have more luck here," whispered Hermione to Vercingetorix. "I don't want to know what the Dark Lord will say if I fail."

The pegasus tossed his silver mane and pawed the stones at his feet.

"Hey! She says you can come up!"

Hermione jerked around to where the voice came from. The boy was on the opposite side of the courtyard from the door he had originally entered, and he flashed her a toothy smile before waving. "Come up!"

With a quick brush of her robes, Hermione climbed the rickety had never been in one of the homes before, she and Samar had only ever passed out food and supplies in the courtyard, and earlier this week the adults had always come out to speak to her. She found the door he had come out of and knocked firmly.

It burst open with a blast of air that smelled of lemon cleaner. "Hello?" She called into the gloom. The room was so dark that she could hardly see the pile of shoes beside the door.

"Come in," called an imperious voice.

Hermione held up her wand and muttered "Lumos!" and a gasp came in response. She held up her wand, and tried not to gasp at the group of witches and wizards that clustered around a table. They were all pale and tired-looking, even the children that stood behind them.

"She's a wandie," cried a little girl, "Mummy, doesn't that mean she's with the Ministry?"

"No, stupid," said the boy beside her. "Lots of rich people have their own wands."

"Hush," said the woman in the chair in front of them.

The imperious voice spoke again, "My grandson Coram says you're not with the Ministry. Is that true?" The voice belonged to the oldest woman Hermione had ever seen in her life. She was stooped and so heavily wrinkled that resembled a raisin.

Hermione nodded, "That's true. I've come on behalf of the Dark Lord."

There were whispers at that, and Ma Griesly's brow dropped. "What does the," she paused and sneered, "Dark Lord want with us?"

"He wants to offer progress!" Hermione said, settling back down into the role she was playing. "Your cooperation and participation in exchange for better living arrangements, better education, and more of a voice in the upcoming restructure of our society!" She beamed at the old woman for a moment, and felt her smile slip at the silence that greeted her.

"So he wants soldiers," drawled Ma Griesly. "I don't think so."

She hadn't expected to be written off so easily.

"Don't you want better housing?" She asked in confusion. True, Ma Griesly's building wasn't so bad, but some of the others had been so terrible that she had bathed Vercingetorix twice after stepping foot among the refuse and filth.

A man on Ma Griesly's left spoke up, "We've lived here our whole lives- most of us. You get used to it!" The others laughed at that.

"Then education!" Said Hermione. "The Dark Lord is prepared to build schools for the younger children so they don't have to learn at home-"

"You saying that we're not smart enough?" Asked a witch. She pounded a fist on the table in front of her, "I taught all three of my boys, and they're smarter than anything!"

"And you don't need book-learning to work at the factories," said a man with a bristling moustache. "My girl could've done it before she was toilet-trained!"

"And isn't Voldemort going to banish all the muggleborn?" Asked the woman again. "My husband is muggleborn! No one gets to banish him but me!"

Hermione stared. She had only heard Dumbledore and Harry speak the Dark Lord's name so openly. Yet no one even flinched when she said it. It took her a moment to wrap her mind around the second part of the statement.

"The Dark Lord is prepared to allow all muggleborn who join him a fresh slate. You'll be reassigned as half-bloods-"

"Reassigned? Listen to her!" Said a voice in the back.

"-and you'll be treated as full citizens."

Now Ma Griesly sat up straighter and seemed to be listening with more interest. While the rest of the room erupted into angry chattering, she stared at Hermione.

"Don't you all want wands?" Hermione said desperately. This got their attention. "The Dark Lord has seized control of Ollivander's stock. He's prepared to give all of his followers their own wand, free of charge!"

The man with the bristling mustache leaned forward, "He would give us all wands? Just like that?"

Hermione had not dared to question the Dark Lord when he told her to offer wands to the untrained witches and wizards. She did think that every magical witch and wizard deserved to have a wand-, but she also knew that most of them had never had a proper magical education.

"Yes," she said carefully. "We would arrange for training, of course-"

"When?" asked the boy who had called his sister stupid. "Do we all get one?"

"Every witch or wizard who has come of age," said Hermione, watching the boy's face fall.

"So that's how you'll buy our lives?" Said the old woman. Her eyes glittered dangerously. "With a handful of firewood."

The boy who had spoken to her first- Coram, piped up, "It's not firewood, Granny, it's a wand!" His eyes shone with eagerness. "When I'm of age will I get a wand to?"

It would be at least five years before he came of age, and Hermione had no idea what the world would look like then. Nevertheless she smiled cheerily down at him, "Of course," she promised. "All of his followers will get a wand when they come of age and join his forces."

"Hmph," Ma Griesly crossed her bony arms over her stout chest and levelled a glare at Hermione. "Tomorrow is the full moon. We'll discuss it then, at our monthly gathering."

A dozen voices rose in protest, and the old lady barked over them, "With such an important request, I'm sure you can understand the need for us to deliberate, Miss…"

"Malfoy," supplied Hermione. Hope bloomed in her chest as she took in the eager eyes of the faces around the elder. Surely they would convince her.

Ma Griesly's button-like eyes gleamed back at her, "Malfoy, is it? Well, Miss Malfoy, I'll give you your answer in two days. Coram will show you out."

The boy emerged from the shadows and jerked his chin towards the door. With a hastily murmured, "Nox," Hermione followed him.

She rode home and spent the afternoon brushing Vercingetorix until he gleamed. She would never admit to herself that she was avoiding her parents, but she leapt at the invitation Terence's elf made to her on her way back to the manor.

"Master Higgs is wanting Miss Malfoy to join him at the Owl and Saucer for tea." The creature was mottled with scars, but it smiled toothlessly up at her in expectation. "Miss Malfoy is not needing to change or anything!"

Hermione looked up the path at the window of her parent's bedroom. Her mother stared down at her, her face unreadable. Something sparked to life in Hermione's chest, and she felt her face flame as she barked out, "I'll go at once!"

The words were barely spoken before the elf grasped her wrist and aparated her with a pop. She was still staring furiously at the spot where her mother had been when she noticed that she was glaring at a carved wooden owl.

"Hermione!" said a warm voice.

She twisted, and smoothed her robes as she took in the sight of Terence. Suddenly she wished she had showered or at least washed her face before coming. She smelled like horse sweat and hay, and her hair was frizzy and falling out of the elegant knot she had tamed it into for Ma Griesly.

But if he noticed he did not seem to care. His green eyes flashed with something, and he beamed at her. "I'm so glad you could make it."

She slid into the booth across from him and felt herself relax beneath his smile. "I'm glad you asked me. To be honest I could use the distraction."

"You found the lady in charge today?" he asked. He knew all about her task, as he had been in regular attendance at the Manor. Their friendship was stronger than ever, and she was doubly grateful for him now that she was distanced from Draco and Harry.

She poured tea out of the plain teapot. "I did, and I'm pretty sure that she hates me!"

"You?" He laughed, and dunked his biscuit into his tea, "Never. Have a biscuit."

She selected one from the mountain in front of him, and nibbled at it miserably. "You didn't see her face. I think the rest of her clan will convince her though."

"How is your father?"

She could not say. She had avoided her father for the last few days while she focused on finding Ma Griesly. "He's doing better. I think Uncle Sev's potions are helping."

Terence shook his head, "It's hard to think of Professor Snape as anyone's uncle."

She rolled her eyes, "Not this again!"

"If you had been in his House you would understand better! He's about as cuddly as a rabid bat! The homesick firsties had to come to the prefects for comfort."

"That's only because he likes his sleep," she sipped her tea, and shook her head at him.

"You don't have to tell me! Did I ever tell you about the time I had to wake him up because a third-year tried brewing the blood replenishing potion in their dorm?"

"They didn't?" Horror laced her words.

He nodded, "Set the whole room on fire! I thought the Professor would kill them all! It was the only time I saw him take points! Points!"

She laughed, and listened to him recount several stories of the hardship of being a prefect for Snape. His hands moved as he talked, and a faint pink glow entered his cheeks. It occurred to her that in another life she might have found him attractive.

His smile slowly dimmed. "I've been assigned my next task."

Her cup rattled when she set it back onto it's saucer. "That's great!" but they both heard the tinge of anxiety behind her words. "What is it?"

He raked a hand through his dark hair and looked around to make sure they weren't overheard. "The goal for the end of the summer," he whispered.

It took her a moment to realize he was speaking about the Dark Lord's desire to take over the Ministry. "Oh!" She leaned closer. "You're taking part?"

"Yes, I-" he broke off as a server passed them, and then bent nearer to her, "He's entrusted me with securing the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"But that's so-" she broke off before she could say 'dangerous', she knew that Terence prided himself on his courage. Instead, she said, "You're really making a name for yourself."

An easy grin tugged at his lips, and he ran his hand over his hair again. "I'm glad you think so. It turns out I've got a knack for the Imperius, I've got several higher administrators under my control now."

"I hope you're being careful." She didn't want him to become over-confident.

His eyes shone, "As careful as anything," he assured her. "No one expects little Terry the assistant. No one will catch me!"

"Shh," she looked around again, but couldn't help but return his grin. "Soon you'll be his most trusted."

"Oh, no one could take that title from you," but it was admiration and not jealousy that shone in his eyes when he looked at her. "I'm rising in his esteem though. Soon I'll-" a light flush came to his cheeks, "Well, soon enough my name will mean something. The Higgs family will be restored to its former glory, and I'll be the head of it all!"

She indulged him with a smile. The Higgs family was old, but it had never been considered in the same way that the Malfoys had. Still, his enthusiasm was infectious.

"You'll be practically royalty," she teased.

He gave her a considering look, "And so will my wife," he said softly.

Years of attending society functions with her mother had taught her to control her surprise, and she barely blinked. Surely he wasn't implying that she- he didn't think of her like that, did he? She had never been more grateful that Bellatrix was busy with the war effort. "Terence-"

"You don't need to say anything," he said suddenly. His cheeks were even pinker, but his eyes still shone as he took a final sip of tea. "I shouldn't have sprung this on you, but I- well, you're my best friend."

She reached out and patted his hand, "And you're mine too," she didn't add the now.

He reached up and squeezed her fingers, and then stood. "I'll see you tomorrow at the meeting?"

As if she had any other choice. "Of course!"

They dropped a handful of knuts and sickles on the table, and made their way to the apparation point.

He winked before he spun on his heel and disappeared, and she felt her chest relax.

She paused a moment before she spun on her heel.

She landed in the middle of a grassy field, and began the transformation immediately. The golden stalks stretched up around her, and she fell forward onto her front legs. Lately, she had found that the easiest way to unwind was to disappear for a few hours in her fox form.

The ground was soft beneath her paws, and she raced through the hilly countryside. A few trees dotted the field, and she chased a few rodents along her run. The day was mild, and the breeze that ruffled her fur was lovely.

Her steps finally slowed when she reached the top of a massive hill. A lone tree provided shade, and she sat between its roots. Overhead, a family of squirrels chattered happily in the hollow of the tree.

Her eyes drifted closed, and she opened her mouth to taste the scents around her.

"Ginny! Don't use my broom!"

Hermione's eyes snapped open. The field at the bottom of the hill backed up to a garden wall. Two redheaded teenagers ran through the gate, and Hermione watched the gate to see who would come out next.

"Harry!" Ronald Weasley yelled, "Do you have the balls?"

Hermione's tail wiggled as a familiar blonde jerked through the gate, his arms full of quidditch balls. "Harry's bringing our brooms."

"I hope he's bringing Ginny's broom as well," growled Ron. He said something else, but Hermione was too busy watching her brother.

He looked… happy. Even dressed in muggle clothes and living with the blood traitors. His cheeks were flushed and rosy, his hair mussed. Ron spat something at his sister, and Draco laughed at the pair of them. It had been years since he had looked so carefree.

Hermione remained motionless amidst the roots of the tree throughout the entire game. Her amber eyes drank in the sight of her brother, and for a few hours she pretended that he would go home with her afterwards.

Her keen ears picked up the woman's voice first.

"Dinner!"

The four teenagers remained aloft, their focus on getting the battered quaffle through one of the makeshift hoops.

A short and stout woman appeared at the gate, her apron large and ruffled. "Come in now, dears! I've got dinner on the table."

At once Harry and Draco landed, and the Weasley children followed suit after a short tussle over the ball.

Her heart clenched as the woman wrapped a motherly arm around Draco, and she let out a deep sigh when he laid his head against her red curls.

For long minutes after the gate shut she sat there, her eyes pinned to the spot where her brother had disappeared.

Bellatrix had taught her the trick of Apparating in her animagus form, and it was second nature to her. She twisted on her hind leg and emerged in front of the gates to Malfoy Manor.

Violin music drifted across the front gardens, and a few of her father's white peacocks cried out at the sight of her. She ignored the impulse to chase them, and instead transformed back into her own form.

She lingered in the front hall. Every part of her wanted to run upstairs and check on her father. She wanted nothing more than to be small again so she could climb into his lap and let him hold her. She wanted her mother to reassure her that she was safe.

Instead, she followed the sound of the music. It was better to let her father heal in peace.

The windows in the drawing room were open, and the Dark Lord sat in an upholstered chair wearing light grey robes and a contemplative expression. The only other occupant of the room was Alecto Carrow, and she lowered her violin when she spied Hermione.

"Hermione, child. Come in." He raised his hand, "No, Alecto, keep playing." He drew his wand, and moved another chair closer to him.

"My Lord," Hermione greeted, "Madam Carrow." The blonde woman gave her the ghost of a smile, and struck up a mournful tune.

The Dark Lord's elbow rested on the back of his chair, and he rested his head against his hand. "Listen, Hermione. Alecto has a gift, does she not?"

Hermione sat, and offered a shy smile, "She does." The breeze from the open window ruffled her curls, and she felt herself relax.

"One day I'll have an entire orchestra at my disposal," he said, "but my favorite will always be the violin." Red eyes flicked to hers, "What about you, my little lioness? Do you have a favorite instrument."

She blinked. "I've never really thought about it. I suppose it would be the cello."

Approval shone in the Dark Lord's eyes. "A good choice."

They sat in silence for a time, his eyes carefully watching her. "You are sad."

She flinched, "N-no, my lord. I-I, I'm not-"

He shook his head, and raised a hand to silence her. "There is nothing wrong with being sad, Hermione." He tilted his head, and leaned in closer, as if sharing a secret, "I'd like to distract you from it, if I may?"

Unsure, she nodded.

"Play something livelier, Alecto," he commanded, sitting up. "It's a beautiful evening, and we are in fine company."

Despite herself, Hermione blushed.

Alecto changed the tune to a bright, cheerful song. The Dark Lord smiled appreciatively, and held out a hand to her. "Allow me to show you how we celebrated warm nights in my time."

Had someone told her two years ago that she would be dancing merrily in the arms of the Dark Lord, she would have laughed in their face.

It was not the dignified show of grace that she had learned in her mother's lessons. He held her close, but not so close as to be improper, and galloped her around the room. Soon she was flushed and laughing, and he grinned charmingly at her.

Alecto played a series of lighthearted songs, each one fast-paced and cheery. He laughed first, and-after a moment of surprise- she joined in.

It was so easy to despise him for holding so much power over Bellatrix, that she was surprised when she felt affection creep into her thoughts. Guilt clutched at her, and she chased it away. For the moment, she wanted to pretend that he was not the most evil man she knew. After all, he had decided to try and cheer her up, hadn't he? Surely such a man couldn't be completely evil?

But he was. She had seen his ruthlessness at close hand. Everyone she loved suffered because of him. Though at that moment it was difficult to reconcile the man who had taught her the killing curse in a shadowy room with the man who let out a whoop as they rounded a corner of the room.

His hold tightened, and he called out, "Faster Alecto!"

Hermione squealed as he spun her around, and burst into giggles. All other thoughts fled her mind, and for a moment she was happy.

Her heart raced steadily in her ribcage when he finally twirled them to a stop, and she jumped at the sound of applause.

While they were dancing, several members of the inner circle had arrived. Immediately she recognized Goyle and Crabbe, and Blaise's great-uncle Marcus Zabini.

The Dark Lord chuckled, and for once it sounded natural and human. "It seems I've lost track of time. Forgive me, Hermione."

She blinked in surprise, but smiled back at him. "No, forgive me my lord. I didn't mean to distract you."

"I welcome such distractions," he told her. He looked around to address the whole group, "Without such moments how are we to remember what we are working for?" He squeezed her hand and released her.

Zabini grinned, "Well said, my lord."

They all inclined their heads to her as she bade them farewell, and she felt a thrill at being treated with such respect. Even the Dark Lord bent his head to her, and flashed her a smile, "Goodnight, my lioness."

The music ceased as she left, and she heard the room rearrange itself as a table and chairs were summoned. She sighed when she reached the bottom of the stairs, and realized that she wanted nothing more than to go back to the room filled with Death Eaters. She liked who she was to them.

And the thought terrified her.

XX

Two days later, she woke to a rigorous shake.

"Mistress!"

"Wha-?" She lifted her head from her warm pillows long enough to look at the grey windows. Turnip wriggled closer. "Winky! S'not even light yet!" She pulled the blanket back over her head, only to have it pulled down again.

"An owl came, Mistress, and you said to wake you if it happened while you slept!"

The words took a moment to filter through the fuzziness of her brain. "Owl?"

There was a heavy sigh, "Yes, Mistress. An owl. A rented owl from the Ministry Housing Buil-"

Hermione's eyes shot open. "Ma Griesly!" She was out of the bed before Winky had finished sighing "Yes, Mistress."

The letter sat on her vanity, and she snatched it up. The envelope tore beneath her fingers, but she didn't pay any attention to the fluttering bits of parchment. The parchment was cheap, and the letter was splotched with ink, but the writing was clear.

Miss Malfoy,

Weve thought about your request, but Ive decided that we will not be joining your lord at this time.

The letter was not signed, but there was no doubt who had sent it. She sat down in her chair, and stared at her reflection.

"What am I going to do, Winky?" Her voice was a broken whisper. "If I can't keep my place in the Dark Lord's esteem…"

There was a jingle as Turnip jumped out of bed and came to her. His weight was soft and reassuring against her leg, and she lowered a hand to tug at his ears.

"Maybe it's not so bad," said Winky, guessing at the letter's contents. "Mistress said that the others wanted to join. Maybe they can be persuaded-"

"No," said Hermione. "They're loyal to her. If she says no they'll all listen." She imagined the look of disappointment on the Dark Lord's face and felt her chest tighten. Maybe she could warn her parents ahead of time. Perhaps they could flee to the Forest Cottage, or one of the other properties. It would be easier if she knew he wouldn't be able to punish her by hurting them.

But her father was still weak, and he needed Uncle Sev's potions to help regain his strength. She trusted her uncle, but she didn't want to put him in that position.

For hours she sat in her chair, wondering what she could do. Winky tried in vain to get her to eat breakfast, and then lunch. She and Turnip stayed with her, and Hermione was grateful that her parents were too wrapped up in her father's care to check on her.

The afternoon sun had lent her room a golden glow, when Bellatrix's voice asked, "What's wrong?"

She swiped a tear away, I'm about to disgrace myself in the eyes of the Dark Lord.

"I think that will be harder than you think," there was more than a touch of amusement in the words. "What tragedy has befallen you now?"

See for yourself, thought Hermione Glumly as she held up the parchment. Bellatrix's presence in her mind intensified, until Hermione was sure that she could see the letter.

To her surprise, Bellatrix laughed at her. "Silly girl! The task's not lost yet."

Hermione glowered at her reflection, and hoped that Bellatrix could see it. She said 'no' Bella, that's about as lost as it can be.

"Oh, come now. You're smarter than that! What else does the letter say?"

That they've thought about the request, and they've denied it.

"It says 'at this time', Dove! That's practically an invitation! All it means is that you didn't find the right motivation to persuade the old lady!"

Hermione scanned the letter again. Hope began to bloom in her chest, and Turnip's dark coat lightened around the ears and muzzle. You really think there's still a chance?

"I know there's still a chance. What's gotten into you? You've never been so quick to accept defeat before."

Hermione could not stop the tears that pricked at her eyes. Wordlessly, she pushed a bunch of images at Bellatrix. The look in her mother's eyes every time she regarded Hermione, her father's sickly face staring horrified at her, her uncle Albus as the killing curse hit him… image after image of the last few weeks was shoved at the older witch, until Hermione dropped her head onto her arms and gave in to her sobs.

"Doveling, go to your floo, and come to the lodge."

With a mumbled explanation to Winky, Hermione slunk down the corridor to her father's study, and followed Bellatrix's orders.

She stumbled from the hearth in the kitchen of the lodge, and breathed in the sticky smell of warm raspberry jam. Three wide-eyed house elves stared at her as she fell into a heap on the soot stained stones.

"Get out of the way you stupid creatures!"

Two strong arms lifted her, and Bellatrix pulled her into an embrace. "I'm sorry I didn't realize what state you were in sooner," she said softly. "I've been pouring over the plans for the Ministry."

Hermione sniffed, "It's fine, Bella. You shouldn't have to notice-"

"I absolutely should." Soft lips pressed against her forehead in a kiss, "You're everything to me, Doveling. You come first."

Hermione cried harder at the gentle words, and allowed herself to be lead to the table. Bellatrix sat, and pulled Hermione down on her lap.

"I feel like I'm doing everything wrong!" she cried, burying her face in the soft black curls.

Bellatrix traced soothing patterns on her back, "There is no right way, Hermione."

"There must be." Hermione hiccuped. "Draco hasn't made our parents hate him."

"Your parents don't hate you," said Bellatrix firmly. "They just don't know what to do with you at the moment, it's completely different." She sifted her fingers through Hermione's curls and let out a sigh. "You've been working too hard. You need a break."

"I can't afford to take a break," protested Hermione. "If you're right- if there's really a chance- then I have to go back to the Ministry Housing Buildings tomorrow."

Bellatrix took her hand in her own, and laced their fingers together. "Then you have tonight."

"Bella…"

Bellatrix sighed. "Then do it for me. I need a break. Let me have a night just to ourselves." She pressed her forehead to Hermione's , and grinned, "We can start with a chase through the woods. I haven't been in my animagus form for ages. Then we'll eat chocolate cake and sip champagne until we're bursting." She kissed Hermione gently, "I'll send Rab away and then we'll sleep in the garden under the stars."

"It'll be cold."

Bellatrix laughed, and hugged her tight. "That's a yes, then?"

"Yes." A loud grumble startled her, and her cheeks pinkened. "But apparently I had better have something to eat first."

Bellatrix smirked, and called for a late lunch.

The elves scurried into motion, and Hermione moved to her own chair. She watched the older witch bark out orders to the elves, before ultimately stalking over to show them exactly how she wanted things prepared, and Hermione hid her smirk at the sight of the great and powerful Bellatrix Lestrange making a sandwich.

What would I do without you? She asked.

Bellatrix's brown eyes danced when she looked up. "You'll never find out."