AN: Idris Elba is Kingsley Shacklebolt and Rosemund Pike is Marie Delacour. I have a character model in mind for Hermione, but visualize her how you want to ;-)

And thank you for the overwhelming response, I was truly floored. Now please, read on and enjoy.

Chapter Five: Outweighs the Cost

"Severus could do it." Malfoy, again, tapped his wand to the green apple, concentrated on the task set before him.

"Never," Hermione answered just as quickly, though she was fascinated to watch him practice the spell. He had laser-like focus, but still had the presence of mind to keep up with their conversation. He bit the corner of his bottom lip, a similar tic she adopted in the mist of study. Surprisingly, it made her smile.

"He's the bloody best Legilimens I know."

There was a moment of silence as Hermione worked through Malfoy's statement. "Has... has he taught you Legilimency?"

He answered with a question of his own, his eyes still focused on the task before him. "Does that surprise you?"

Hermione looked away from Malfoy. "Nothing much surprises me now." The fact that she and Malfoy had been meeting for two weeks outside of Hogwarts' grounds with only a few skirmishes between them surprised her the most. "Besides, how do I know Professor Snape won't irreparably damage my psyche performing said spell?"

Malfoy shrugged, then tapped the apple once and successfully transfigured his apple into a golden snitch. "Sometimes the benefit outweighs the cost." He grinned, suddenly smug with his accomplishment.

Wearily eyeing the wings of the golden object, she waved away the snitch as it flew close to her hair. "That's a morose way of thinking."

"Fine, continue on your cowardly way."

Malfoy knew that one did not ever call a Gryffindor a coward. He was in dangerous territory now. "Excuse me?"

Visibly annoyed, the Slytherin reached out and caught the snitch that hovered just in front of her face. "You could end this right now, you know? You could go to Shacklebolt, or Dumbledore, or any one of your pathetic friends. They could perform the blood spell, and you'll have your answer. But you're content to sit here, pry me for information, and kill time until the Winter Hols, where let me guess, you're planning to hide away with your Muggle 'parents' until the new term resumes, am I correct?"

The darkness hid her blush at his correct assumption. Not that she'd ever admit it to him. "Incorrect. But speaking of, why haven't you said anything? You could go to your father, Professor Snape, or any one of your pathetic friends," she mocked him. "And yet, you haven't."

"Nothing to it. Part of me is sympathetic to your sad plight. And part of it is ... Like I said, you are my parents' god-daughter. There is a matter of loyalty and such."

Hermione frowned and shook her head. "I'm Muggle-born. Your parents want nothing to do with me," she stated with finality.

"That you were raised among Muggles does nothing to negate the fact of who you are."

Now that was an incorrect statement. "But it has everything to do with who I am! My parents are Helen and Gregory Granger. They gave me a home, and love, and a life. I am who I am because of them."

"And your prowess in magic?" he gave back with an arched brow. "The way you outperform every one of our classmates in every subject with hardly any effort?! They gave you that too, huh?" Suddenly, he changed course, "Where do you belong, Granger? When you go home for the holidays, do you pine like I do to be back here—"

She interrupted him right there. "I worked and studied hard for everything I've earned - "

Another roll of his eyes. "Bullshit, Granger. Somethings are just innate and come from your make-up, your blood. If Helen and Gregory Granger were to have another kid right now, said kid would be as ordinary as this rock." He kicked over a stone near his foot for emphasis.

Hermione scoffed, "You think you have it all figured it out, Malfoy. Like everything can be made right because of who your parents' are! That's ridiculous."

"When it comes to you and me, it's not," he finished simply. "Remain ignorant if you want, but when this comes out, even your pathetic friends will begin to look at and treat you differently. I don't know about Muggles, but in our world, your name means something." He pointed to himself then to her. "Our names mean something."

"A name is just that. Who you are on the inside matters more," she argued back. "I would rather be Hermione Granger, Muggle-born, and at the top of my class, than Hermione Shacklebolt, pure-blood princess!"

"Emmeline!" he replied, as if he had grown tired of the conversation.

"What?!"

He pinched his nose and stated in a calmer voice, "Marie and Kingsley's daughter. You. Your name is Emmeline Joie Shacklebolt."

Hermione shook her head in the negative. "I am not her. I'm not."

"If you want to stay in our world, then you had better learn to live with the fact that you are. The world will forget about Hermione Granger once this comes out." He dusted his trousers off and started back up the hill towards the castle. "Night, Granger."

"What do you mean, goodnight?" she said to his back.

Malfoy replied without turning, "Meaning I'm going to bed."

"I am not finished."

"Too bad. I am."

Hermione stewed in her anger, but what could she do? Persuade him to stay? They hardly had an arrangement, and while they were polite (for the most part), they were not friends. She watched the blond disappear up the slope and waited until he was out of sight before she reluctantly followed behind him.

Three days later in Grffindor's common room, Hermione and Neville sat reading on the floor in front of the couch. "Neville, do you think I should tell someone else?" Hermione asked once she reached an appropriate stopping place.

"Oh, because I'm not enough," he said without looking up from his book.

Hermione loved that her friend knew what she was talking about without prompting. Harry or Ron would definitely need prompting. "You know what I mean. I mean, Harry's busy with Dumbledore's Army. It isn't exactly the proper time."

"Well, when will it be?" He finally looked up from his book to face her.

She stuck her quill in her bun as she voiced her concern with her hands. "That's the thing. I feel like I'm sitting on top of a cauldron, with the lid about to explode off. And once it comes off, there'll be no putting it back on."

"Cauldrons exploding makes me think of Potions class and detentions with Snape. Thanks for the reminder." They both laughed until he scooted closer to her and threw an arm over her shoulder. "Look Hermione, only you can decide when you're comfortable enough to move forward with this. That's like forcing me to, you know, tell my Gran I like boys."

Hermione leaned into him. "I would never force you to do that, Neville."

"I know you wouldn't. Which is why I can't tell you when it's right to do it. Only you can decide that."

Hermione hugged her knees close to her chest. "I'm worried that once this comes out, people will only care about my past and how I possibly fit into the world now. And with everything that's to come, I'm worried my friends will lose sight of who I am." That I'll lose sight of who I am, she said in her head.

"They'll won't. Not that you'll let them, I reckon. Beside there can never be another Hermione Granger."

"Thanks, Neville."

"Does being god-parents in the wizarding world carry a significance I don't know about?"

Hermione and Malfoy had now carried their semi-polite, awkward arrangement into week four. Not that it made her any less comfortable with Malfoy knowing her secret, but she told herself this was for research purposes. And so, she fiddled with her charm bracelet while she forced herself to wait for his answer.

"What does it mean for Muggles?"

"Extra presents at birthdays and holidays, mostly. The literal connotation meant to raise the child in the Christian faith if anything were to ever happen to the parents."

"Christian faith?" he asked, perplexed.

"One of many religions Muggle choose to practice," she quickly supplied. She huddled closer to her cloak, and cast a heating charm over them as the November air froze the foliage decorating their meeting spot of late.

"Hm. Being a god-parent is the closest thing to an unbreakable vow without actually performing one. And you know, you won't die should you fail. But there are magical properties behind the ceremony. You swear to protect the child, raise him or her as your own should something happen to the birth mother or father, and there is legal authority over the child until he or she comes of age."

Hermione shuddered at the thought of Lucius Malfoy having any kind of authority over her. "Who are your god-parents?" Hermione couldn't stop herself from asking.

"Severus Snape and Violet Parkinson," the blond offered easily enough.

Hermione made a face at the unfortunate pair. "I'm sorry."

"Why? Mrs. Parkinson spoils me almost as bad as my mother. But that's because she wants me to marry her daughter. And Severus has taught me more than this school ever could. "

"You mean your Legilimency tutelage? Yes, teaching outside the standard Hogwarts curriculum must be doing wonders for your formal education." But Hermione was suddenly reminded about Harry's tutelage of defense spells to students outside of Hogwarts' current curriculum. But that was neither here nor there, she told quickly herself. That was for the greater good.

Malfoy peered at her, as if he knew her mind had skirted off for a bit, but chose not to call her out on it. "Father doesn't seem to mind. Besides it'll prove useful in what's to come."

The air grew heavy between the lion and the snake. "Exactly what is coming, Malfoy?"

"Where are you and Potty sneaking off to after classes?" he asked just as she finished her question.

"I asked you first."

"Humor me."

"You know I won't." Hermione sighed, as annoyance made her burrow deeper into her cloak. "Again, what is coming, Malfoy?"

"What is, indeed?"

She stood from her place on the ground. "Fine, I'll bite. I'm not naïve. Harry says Voldemort has returned."

"Don't say his name!" he chided her from his place on the ground.

Hermione crossed her arms, after waving off his previous statement. She asked pointedly, "Is there a war coming? Do you know something? Better yet, does Lucius know something?"

Now Malfoy joined her in standing. "Don't talk about my father!"

She smirked at the dirt that lined his expensive cloak. "Why? Has something happened for him to be afraid of?"

"I don't answer to you."

"Your entire posture gives away your answer, Malfoy. Something is coming, I know it is. It's why Umbridge won't teach us proper Defense, or why the Minister steadfastly refutes Harry's claims. The whole lot of you are scared and it shows."

"I have nothing to be afraid of – it's Muggles and the like who need to be worried."

"And what do you think I am?!" Hermione raised a brow meaningfully at the blond.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Disillusioned into thinking something you're not."

Hermione groaned, "I don't know what to say to convince you, but for all intents and purposes, I am a Mudblood, remember? That is all your side will ever see me as."

Malfoy reached forward to grab the wrist that held her charm bracelet and shook it between their faces. "This says otherwise. Join the blood-traitors if you so wish, but don't delude yourself into thinking you're less than."

"I am never less than!" Hermione huffed as she yanked her arm back, frustration rising to the surface. "You just don't get it! You see a name, and a pedigree, but I am who I am." Hermione thought back to those who teased her in primary school and to those who teased her now. She thought of him and proudly proclaimed, "I am the daughter of Muggles. The top of her class. A witch. And a Muggle-born!"

Malfoy openly laughed at her, "Are you purposely that daft?"

"Are you?!" she shot back heatedly.

Malfoy cursed beneath his breath. "You bleeding-heart, stubborn, shit-for-brains Gryffindors! The lot of you never learn, not until you're dragged through the bloody mud and it's shoved right into your face." Deftly, he unsheathed his wand, and before her eyes could widen, he spoke the incantation.

"Legilimens!"

An infant pulled up on the bars of her crib as a woman dressed in travelling clothes came rushing into the green and pink room outfitted with toy cats. The infant girl babbled happily at the woman's unexpected entrance and reached for her, expecting to be picked up.

"Marie!" a disembodied voice pleaded. "Marie!"

"Ma-ma," the infant called.

The woman, Marie, rushed to open to a closet and with a wave of her wand sent piles of clothes, blankets, and nappies into a travelling bag. Marie ignored the infant as she set about her task. The infant instead reached for her toys that danced happily in the sky on their way into the woman's bag.

"I am going tonight, Kingsley, don't not try and stop me," Marie spoke in broken English.

A handsome, young wizard garbed in standard Auror robes rushed into the room, but by now, the infant picked up on the tension in the room and started to cry.

"Marie, please, wait until morning," Kingsley pleaded. "I can arrange a DMLE escort to France."

"Not when Death Eaters are out there. They killed your partner and his family just last night, Kingsley. They are within the DMLE, you said. How do I know they do not kill me and Emmeline then?"

Kingsley did not have an answer to that. But he quickly moved to grab his wife from behind as she continued to magically pack her and Emmeline's things. He held her fiercely and spoke into her hair, "I don't want to lose you, either of you. I'll take you myself."

Marie shook her head sadly. "Please, Kingsley. We must go now and you are needed here. I cannot wait. War has not come to the continent. The Delacour Estate holds ancient magic that will protect us both." Gently, she removed her husband's arms from around her middle and went over to pick up a crying Emmeline. "Ssh, ssh, my darling, Maman is here," she cooed to the wailing infant.

"The magic of my family home can hold," he spoke wearily as if they had had this argument before.

"What did you tell me when she was born?" Marie said as she kissed the infant's head and moved to join her husband in the middle of the room. Her bag sat packed and ready by the doorway.

"Thank you for giving me this most precious jewel," Kingsley repeated as he embraced Emmeline and Marie simultaneously with a hug. Emmeline cried softly as she laid against her mother's chest, slowly lulled into peace by her parents' embrace. Husband and wife stayed that way for a moment, before Marie broke free first.

"And I will keep her safe while you fight for us."

Suddenly the two teens were back, alone on Hogwarts' frozen grounds, with nothing but the rushing of their collective stunned breaths. As soon as her equilibrium returned, Hermione rushed towards Malfoy, fresh tears on her cheeks. "You bastard!" She cried as she pushed him. She shoved his chest, hit his shoulder, and pushed her fist into his rib. "You had no right!"

All at once, he gathered both of her arms against his chest, effectively ending her assault.

With wild curls lost to the wind, Hermione seethed through clenched teeth. "You could have injured me, you-"

Malfoy spoke over her tirade, pulling her arms closer as they sought escape. "You were thinking about your parents, mentioned you were someone's daughter, and were in an emotional state. It wasn't hard to make the leap to your subconscious and pull the memory to the forefront."

It was difficult to project anger through tears, but by Merlin Hermione tried. "You forced me... me to… to…"

"To see the truth, Granger."

Her chest heaved with unspoken pain, and anger, and betrayal, but Malfoy continued, the grey of his irises bright with an emotion she could not place. "You need to know there were people who loved you before Helen and Gregory Granger. Loved you enough to hide you, fight for you, and die for you so that you can could grow to become a brilliant witch. Whether you want to acknowledge that is up to you, but you cannot deny it. It's all there," he nodded to the top of her head.

Suddenly he released her, and without his weight holding her up, she staggered down the slope.

"The residual emotion is a holdover from the memory, but…"

She placed two fingers on her temples, emotionally spent. "Shut up! Just, leave me alone." Hermione turned partly in a daze, the emotional journey had left her disoriented and confused. Distantly, she could hear his retreating footsteps. She looked out onto the countryside, but all she could see was a stately decorated room, full of pink, green, and cats in her mind's eye. A headache built as she closed her eyes and she swore could feel the steady beat of a heart that had long ago lulled her to sleep.

It wasn't until the woman crossed the entrance that she felt safe enough to lower the hood of her cloak. Spotting where she was supposed to go two tables from the door, Narcissa Malfoy warmly greeted her old friend. "It is so good to see you, Kingsley," she saluted the handsome Auror.

Kingsley politely stood as she approached, and waited until after she sat to take his seat. "You as well, Narcissa. Apologies we had to meet in a place less suited than your usual taste." He gestured around to small family-owned coffee shop. Narcissa did not recognize the owners, and assumed they were were Muggles. But she knew Kingsley must've had a reason to meet in a Muggle community.

"I'm assuming you do not wish for us to be seen together?"

"I am on official business," he agreed.

"About anyone we know?" she raised a perfectly sculpted brow. They both gave their beverage orders to the young girl who came to take their order.

After she left, Kingsley gave her a broad smile. "Coyness was always your strong suit. Marie often tried to imitate it."

Narcissa smiled at the memory. "She was too kind-hearted a person, even then."

Kingsley nodded, but admitted, "She had her moments. Hanging around snakes will do that do you." The two Slytherins laughed at that.

"So, this 'official business', does it have something do with Lucius?" Narcissa said her husband's name under her breath as she glanced around the cramped establishment. Paranoia made her leery.

"Skipping right to the point, I see." He chose not to answer straightaway. "How is your family doing?"

Blue eyes pierced his brown ones. Kingsley was always a handsome man, Narcissa knew and he grew even more so over the years. Dashes of grey in his hair made him appear distinguished and Narcissa could appreciate a handsome wizard when she saw one. Dropping her gaze to his ring-adorned left hand, she sighed. "My sister is incarcerated, and my son is doing well in his studies."

"I'm sorry, I thought you had another sister as well?"

Narcissa gave him an innocent blink. "Do I?"

Kingsley sighed, knowing that line of questioning wouldn't lead anywhere. "Just trying to be polite, Narcissa." He valiantly replied, "I know what it is like to lose your family. I wouldn't want you regret spending time with your family while you still had a chance."

"A chance?" Their tea arrived then, and both took a moment to drink before he replied.

"The Ministry knows something is happening. It feels very much like it did last time."

"Are you referring to what Mr. Potter has been spreading in the papers?" Narcissa asked innocently enough.

"That, among other things." Kingsley sighed, "Narcissa, I need you tell me if Lucius is involved with any Dark activity as of late?"

She sat back affronted, "Kingsley, I'm surprised..."

"Please do not insult my intelligence. I've come to your collective rescue before, need I remind you."

"And if you think we are not grateful, then you I will insult your intelligence," she replied a bit sternly.

He mimicked her posture and sat back in his chair too. "I'm not saying you aren't. It's just that things are not the same as they were then. There's a different Minister, a different way of thinking. Simply claiming the Imperious will not cut it … and you cannot count on our friendship for aide should you both find yourselves in trouble." Only the clink of their tea cups touching the saucer could be heard for a moment as the two sat in silence. "I understand your dedication to Lucius," Kingsley continued, "but if you know something, you have to tell me. Soon. Otherwise, my hands are tied."

Her lower lip trembled. "He is gone most of the time. To where and to what end, he won't say."

Kingsley reached to cover her trembling gloved hand with his own. "Is he working on behalf of the Dark Lord?"

"I don't know."

"But if you did, would you tell me?"

Narcissa remained silent.

Kingsley sighed again. "House loyalty and friendship will only take you so far, Narcissa."

Suddenly the cool Malfoy matriarch was back. Any doubt or fear she may have temporarily shown, vanished. "Come to our house for the Christmas holidays, Kingsley. You shouldn't be alone. Draco will be home from school and Lucius will be there. You can speak with him then, if you wish."

"I don't want to intrude."

"Preposterous. You wouldn't be. In fact, I insist."

"Well, if you insist … and if I'm not abroad for the Department."

"Then, I look forward to it." Narcissa slipped her travelling cloak across her shoulders and announced the close of their rendezvous. "I'll leave first. See you shortly, Kingsley."

"Good day, Narcissa."

She walked as calmly as she could to the entrance and through the door, never once turning around. As soon as she was out the door, she hurried past passers-by to find a secluded place where she could disApparate. She was eager to find her husband.