A/N: I updated! Sorry for the wait, you know how it is with a new semester, and everything! Hopefully you will enjoy this chapter! It took a bit longer for me to write because I had to work out some timeline issues, but HERE IT IS!

As always, please review if you have the time! Not saying there's a direct correlation or anything, but more reviews definitely motivate me to write faster ;)

Riddle Manor [June 20th]

Hadrian watched the petite brunette witch sitting before him with slightly narrowed eyes, meeting her unwavering stare with a carefully blank expression.

Hermione Granger sat at the very edge of her seat in his private study, as though she were ready to flee at the slightest indication of trouble. She clasped her shaking hands in her lap and crossed her legs demurely as she managed to maintain her composure, despite having placed her wand on his desk just a moment earlier in a rather perverse show of submission

It was simply a formality, of course. Hadrian knew she didn't need a wand to curse him. She could quite possibly send him crashing through the wall without even lifting a finger, if she desired.

But as much as she might have ached to reach over the desk and easily pick up her wand, she refrained. Hadrian couldn't help but once again marvel at her sharp mind. They had been friends for years, but she still tracked his every movement with suspicion.

She was still afraid of him, Hadrian realized with a start.

Perhaps that was the reason he was able to notice the cracks in her seemingly confident façade almost immediately. Though her shoulders were stiff with stubborn pride, her ankle nervously bounced up and down in the air, and Hadrian found himself zeroing in on the pesky little movement.

He kept his gaze trained on her, even as he dismissively waved his hand at the young man casually leaning against the wall in the back of the room, "Nott, you're excused."

Theodore Nott flinched, abruptly righting himself against the wall. "You can't be serious," He shook his head in protest, "You can't just send me away. I-I brought you Granger! Doesn't that count for anything?"

"Get out," Draco snapped at him from where he was standing on the opposite side of the room, alternating between glaring moodily out the window and avoiding the piercing stare of the witch sitting a mere two feet away from him.

"Inner circle only, sorry," Neville shrugged, not sounding very apologetic at all. He clapped his housemate on the back and began to steer him away. "Maybe next time, Nott."

"Come on," Theo all but whined as the taller boy opened the doors and shoved him into the hall outside, "I did what you asked!"

"Fantastic! Now why don't you go see if the elves have sorted out our trunks," Neville suggested, pulling the doors shut before Theo even had a chance to respond. He turned back to face the others in the room and let out a heavy sigh.

Hermione Granger slowly raised her head, amber eyes glinting with surprise. Her mouth felt unnaturally dry as she whispered, "Inner circle?" She blinked, bewildered. "I'm part of your inner circle?"

"Do you know of another inner circle?" Hadrian felt his lips quirk up into a small smile and his harsh expression softened somewhat as he said, "There's always been a place for you, Hermione." He watched her eyes widen almost comically and he added, "That is, if you want it."

Hermione swallowed hard. She felt herself nodding before the words even left her mouth, "I do–I do think I want it," Her gaze flickered over to where Draco was stubbornly keeping his eyes glued to the window overlooking the grounds. "I do want this," She repeated, more firmly this time.

Neville walked over to the desk and threw himself into the chair beside her with a certain casual arrogance only a Slytherin could exhibit. He raised an eyebrow at her, "Are you sure about that? We're not talking about a silly popularity contest in school–not that you'd be able to win that either," He ignored her annoyed huff and pressed further, "Hermione, this isn't a game. If you're going to join us, you'll have to be completely certain about where you stand."

The curly-haired witch shifted uneasily in her seat. "What do you need from me?"

Hadrian crossed his arms across his chest, "I want your loyalty. Your trust. Your support."

"For now," She pointed out darkly, "What happens in the future? What happens when you inevitably want something more from me then?" Her voice faltered slightly, and she shook her head, "I have my limits, Hadrian. I won't be forced into anything despicable– "

"We're not going to ask you to murder anyone," Hadrian cut her off rather suddenly, looking almost amused. "This isn't a cult."

Hermione snorted. "You're called 'the Death Eaters'," She pointed out. "You have 'inner circles'. How much more cult-ish can you get?"

"Cults have followers," He retorted. "I consider you to be a close friend. An advisor, if you'd like."

She bit her lip and frowned. "An advisor?" She echoed, "What am I meant to advise on?"

Hadrian clasped his hands over his desk with a small smile, "Well, I can hardly go about creating a better society if I don't fully understand the problems muggleborns face in our world. The goal isn't just to gain power, Hermione. It's to make an actual difference."

"You want me to advise you on muggleborn issues?" Hermione scoffed. "Why don't you just open your eyes? It's not as though we've been oppressed in secret. Even you can see how we've been treated."

"I didn't say that," Hadrian bristled. "It's not that simple. You need to understand that it has always been difficult for muggleborns to assimilate into our society. They've always threatened to disrupt the social hierarchy of our world."

"The hierarchy?" She clenched her jaw, and her fingers involuntarily curled into a fist at her sides.

Hadrian leveled his gaze at her across the desk and pursed his lips. He cocked his head to the side and his tone was rather bland as he inquired, "Hermione, do you know why wizards detest all things muggle?"

"Because they think muggles are savage creatures, incapable of even basic human thought?"

"Wrong," Hadrian snapped. "Guess again."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Is it because you all think pure blood is superior since your line of magic traces back nearly a hundred generations?"

"Wrong again," Hadrian smirked. "Come now, Granger, I thought you were supposed to be the smartest witch in our year."

"I don't know," She gritted out. "Why don't you tell me? Tell me why basic equality such a difficult thing to ask for? Tell me why it feels like everyone sees me as a magical dog who can do tricks instead of a full-bodied powerful witch?"

"I would have thought it's rather obvious," Hadrian tsked in disapproval. "They're afraid of you."

"They're afraid?" She repeated skeptically, "Of muggles?"

"Honestly, Hermione, I thought you paid attention during Binns' class," He chastised.

"She was actually the only person who paid attention," Neville interrupted with a chuckle. "Blaise and I played exploding snap during class one time and I burnt half my eyebrow off, but Binns didn't even notice."

"Anyways," Hadrian drawled, shooting Neville an annoyed glance, "Surely you remember Binns's lecture on the witch hunts that were rampant throughout the 18th century. Muggles managed to wipe out nearly half the magical population in all of Europe. They likened it to demonic behavior, and they were ruthless in killing nearly any soul–wizard or muggle–who showed any signs of magic. It was even worse in America, if you recall. For Merlin's sake, they burned innocent women at the stake in Salem for simply being accused of suspicious activity."

"I don't need a history lesson," Hermione snarked, making a move to rise up from her seat. "It was nearly a hundred years ago. How is this still– "

"Sit down," Hadrian ordered.

She flinched, hesitating for barely a second before her lip curled into an irritated sneer and she reluctantly sat back down in her seat.

He cleared his throat, "As I was saying, it might have happened a hundred years ago, but it is still relevant to the issues we face today. Even after that dark period in history had passed, witches and wizards were still terrified of muggles."

"I don't understand why they were afraid," She shook her head. "Wizards have magic. They can do wonderful and horrible things with it. Why would they be the ones afraid of muggles?" Hermione questioned. "It just doesn't make sense."

"Muggles had numbers," Hadrian pointed out. "There were a hundred muggles to one wizard back then. No matter how powerful that wizard might have been, he would have been outnumbered. And that fear of being overpowered has only grown stronger over time. In the beginning, muggles only had pitchforks and torches. Now they have guns, bombs, weapons of mass destruction. And they still outnumber us."

"The only reason our community exists today is because this fear of muggles made witches and wizards slowly withdraw from muggle society. It took decades for them to finally come together to form their own little world," Hadrian explained. "It made sense that the founders of our world hated muggles, seeing as they were the ones that killed off half our entire community."

"But what about muggleborns," Hermione pressed. "We're magical beings too. Why are we still being punished for the actions of muggles in the 18th century?"

"Because muggleborns have no respect for wizarding society," Draco spat, his nostrils flaring in righteous anger. "They have no sense of loyalty. They are ignorant of our culture, our values, and our traditions."

Hadrian shot him a withering glare. "What Draco meant to say," He gritted out before Hermione could fly into a blinding rage, "Was that muggleborns still pose as a threat to our society. They have ties to both worlds, which makes their loyalty strained, at best. We can't expect them to turn their backs on their muggle family, of course, but this prevents them from fully assimilating into our world. They were not born into this society, so our rules and etiquette are unfamiliar to them. They are uneducated in the ways of magic, and so in an attempt to level the playing field, Hogwarts prevents all magical children from learning magic until they reach the age of eleven. Our society has barely progressed since the beginning of the 20th century because accommodating muggleborns has such an enormous pressure on our world."

Her brows knit together in confusion, "You're saying muggleborns are holding the wizarding world back?" She exhaled a shaky breath and shook her head, "Even if that is the case, is that really enough to fuel an entire radical terrorist movement against us?" She shifted in her seat uneasily, "It seems kind of pointless. It's not as though anyone can prevent a muggleborn child from being born. Even if your little army of blood purity zealots eliminates all the muggleborns existing currently, they'll still continue to filter into this world."

"Not my army," Hadrian corrected her. "Blood purity was my father's cause. I don't believe in his ridiculous notions on muggleborns."

"But some people still do."

"Some people," He admitted. "But we're trying to change that, Hermione. I want you on our side because I want you to help me find a solution."

"You want me to help you solve the problem of injustice and reverse the classist hierarchy that's plagued the wizarding world since it was founded hundreds of years ago?" Her brow arched in disbelief. She stubbornly crossed her arms across her chest, "Even if that's possible, why would you think I would help you?"

"You're here," Hadrian shrugged. "You're sitting here, in my home and not in whatever musty basement the Order of the Phoenix holds their tea and biscuit parties in. You came here out of your own free will. You already made your choice, Hermione, even if you don't realize it."

There was a long, drawn out moment where no one spoke. Eventually, Neville grew uncomfortable with the uncomfortable silence in the room and he let out an exaggerated huff, "Hermione, I know Dumbledore said that we were the bad guys, and we're the true monsters in our society and all that rubbish, but–"

"No," Hermione whispered so softly that they all had to strain their ears to hear her next words. "He didn't say that."

Neville scratched his head, "Oh, I thought he tried to tell you about how horrible we all were–"

"He didn't say 'our society," She murmured, "They never say 'our society'. It's always 'my world' and 'your muggle heritage'. They claim to be the good guys, but they keep me at arm's length, taking every opportunity to prove there's still a divide."

"We want to create a better future for us all, Hermione," Hadrian nearly purred, watching her with a certain glint to his eyes. "All you have to say is you'll stand with us. The amount of power you would hold–" His gaze snapped over to her and he smirked, "I can't even begin to describe it."

"If I agree to this," Hermione raised her chin, refusing to break her stare, "I expect my voice to be heard."

"When have you ever not made it heard?" Draco scoffed, finally looking at her for the first time that morning. "You never shut up as it is. How would this change anything?"

"I don't approve of violence," Hermione said in a sharp tone, ignoring the blond completely. "But I understand that sometimes it is necessary. Still, I would prefer to keep the blood off my hands. I refuse to be forced into murder or torture, or anything of the sort."

Draco barked out a bitter laugh. "A little too late for that, don't you think?" He snorted, letting his eyes sweep over the room in morbid amusement. "Let's play a game. Raise your hand if you have ever killed a man."

Hadrian bit back a grin as Draco stared at Hermione pointedly and made an expectant gesture, "Well? I believe this is the part where you raise your hand, Granger."

"It was only once," She muttered defensively. "And I'll never do it again."

"How many people do you think we've killed?" Neville gaped at her incredulously, "We're not committing mass genocide here, for Merlin's sake. Do you think we wake up every morning, brush our teeth and just think, 'Hm, I feel like murdering a village today?'"

"Stop laughing at me," She flushed, "I just wanted to make my limitations clear."

"If those are your rules, we have no problems with them," Hadrian promised seriously, struggling to keep a straight face. "But I think you might change your mind."

"Why would I do that?"

"Let's just say there are certain areas of magic that might pique your interest," Hadrian smiled, flashing her his sharp white teeth. "In their ridiculous attempts to control the public under the guise of their Saint-like morality, the Ministry and Dumbledore banned practically half of the magic we're truly capable of. Now that you're on our side, you'll find the capabilities of magic extend far beyond what you could even imagine."

"There's more?" Hermione's mouth dropped open slightly. "What else can we do?"

"It's magic, Granger," Neville grinned. "It can do anything."

"Blood magic, in particular is very powerful," Draco spoke up. "Most of the research in blood rituals has been destroyed or lost over time, but from what I know, blood magic is the purest form of magic. You can do anything from creating indestructible wards to poisoning someone from two countries away."

"Imagine harnessing the power to never age or being able to cure a fatal disease for hundreds of people," Hadrian watched her intently from across his desk. "And all you had to do was slit a man's throat to get it."

Hermione breathed in sharply. She shook her head a bit, as though to clear it of all thoughts. "I-I'll think about it," She finally decided. She opened her mouth to say something but was abruptly cut off as the door slammed open all of a sudden.

Hadrian snapped his head up to meet the startling blue eyes of Daphne as she strode into the room with the poise of a queen. He stood up automatically to greet her while she walked over to him, tucking her wand back into the small bag at her side.

"This is a pleasant surprise," He smiled, letting his eyes rove appreciatively over the pale blue sundress she wore that lightly clung to her curves and flared out at her waist. "I see you found new clothes."

"I saw my trunk when I woke up this morning," Daphne pressed a kiss to his cheek, pulling away with a small frown, "Why didn't anyone bother to wake me? I had to find out from Theo that you had holed yourselves up in the study."

"I thought you would like the extra rest," Hadrian wrapped an arm around her waist, "It's been a long couple of days."

Daphne rolled her eyes, "I'm injured, not dead." She turned back to look at the other witch in the room and she raised an eyebrow in challenge, "Hermione," She began hesitantly, "I assume your presence here can only mean you've made your decision."

"I did," The curly haired witch smiled. "It's always been your side. How could I have chosen to stand by anyone else?"

"Took you long enough," Neville snorted. "We were starting to get worried you'd transferred to Gryffindor already."

"Please," Draco snickered, "She wouldn't even get past their portrait hole with her questionable morals and aversion to gold."

"I don't know, Draco," Daphne murmured, "If Destiny can get in, I doubt the standards are for morality all that high," She turned to look at Neville and smiled softly, "Speaking of Destiny, she's awake, Nev. She's been asking for you."

Neville's eyes lit up and he immediately rose up from his seat, running a nervous hand through his hair, "She's really awake?"

"You'd better go see her before Lady Lestrange heads upstairs," Daphne advised him with a wicked grin, "If she gets there first, you'll have to wait your turn till tomorrow morning."

"Right," Neville nodded as he walked out the door, "There's just something I have to do first."

Draco watched him leave with narrowed eyes. "That was strange," He muttered under his breath, "I wonder what he's up to."

"You can sit here wondering all day," Daphne studied her nails with disinterest, "But Hermione and I already have plans for this morning."

"We do?" Hermione spoke up, glancing at her friend with a small frown.

"Lady Malfoy has requested we join her for breakfast," Daphne revealed, "She expects us to meet her at Malfoy Manor in less than an hour."

"Why does my mother want to have breakfast with you two?" Draco stared at them as though they had each grown another head. "She's barely even spoken to me since we all arrived yesterday."

"She probably just wants to discuss ideas for her monthly luncheon with the other pureblood ladies," Daphne shrugged. She gently tugged on Hermione's arm, pulling her out of her seat, "Let's go, Hermione."

Hermione followed along after the tall blonde, shooting Hadrian a questioning look as she was ushered out of the room rather quickly. They walked in silence through the empty halls of Riddle Manor for a bit, neither of them wanting to speak first. Though they had been the best of friends only a month ago, now there existed an awkward distance between them that had never been present before.

It was Hermione who cleared her throat and spoke first, feeling the need to break the nearly suffocating silence around them. "Where are we going?" She asked dumbly, hurrying up the stairs to catch up to Daphne's long strides. "We aren't going in the direction of the floo room. I thought you said we were going to meet Lady Malfoy this morning."

"We are," Daphne's response was curt as she pushed open the doors to the room she shared with Hadrian, "But you can't meet her in baggy jeans and a jumper," She shook her head in thinly veiled disapproval. "You can wear something of mine for today, but we have to go shopping to buy you some proper clothes sometime later this week."

"I brought some other clothes with me," Hermione said defensively.

"Nothing suitable for breakfast with Lady Malfoy, I presume?"

"I didn't know we were meeting with her," Hermione flushed in embarrassment as she followed Daphne into the large closet attached to the room. Her gaze fell over the ridiculous amount of clothes hanging in the walk-in closet, neatly arranged and artfully displayed like they were in an upscale boutique. She couldn't help but notice that more than half of the clothes seemed to belong to Daphne, rather than Hadrian. "So," She began carefully, "You and Hadrian? It's serious, then?"

Daphne quirked her lips up into an amused little grin. "I suppose you could say that," She replied, pulling a dress off the hanger and handing it to her friend, "Try this one."

Hermione uncertainly stared at the baby pink dress that was shoved into her arms, "I don't think I could pull this off," She gestured to Daphne's tall form and added, "Not to mention, your clothes probably won't fit me."

"You're a witch, aren't you?" Daphne arched a brow and pointed to the changing screen towards the back of the room, "Go change. If you really can't figure out how to perform some basic transfiguration, I'll adjust it for you after."

"I see being around Hadrian has made you bossier than ever," Hermione teased, walking over to the fancy black changing screen. She stared at the dress in her hands with a calculating look and mumbled a few sizing charms, hoping they would fit the dress to her more petite size. Once she was satisfied with the alterations, she hurried to change into the dress, taking a moment to marvel at the soft material. She stepped out from behind the screen, smoothing her nervous hands over the front of the dress and meeting Daphne's impatient gaze, "Does it look alright?"

"Definitely more appropriate than those jeans you were wearing," Daphne nodded. She waved her hand and Hermione watched with wide eyes as the muggle clothes she had kicked to the side earlier disappeared.

"Where did my clothes go?"

Daphne ushered her towards the vanity table, clearing away some of the makeup products that had already been set up on the marble tabletop. She pushed Hermione into the plush chair before the mirror and feigned ignorance, "Oh, I think I sent them to the kitchens. Sometimes the elves use old clothing as rags to clean the floors with."

"You gave my clothes to–" Hermione shook her head in annoyance, unable to even get a full sentence out. "I can't believe you would do that!"

"Hm," Daphne hummed as she picked up a curly lock of Hermione's hair and studied it critically, not meeting her fuming eyes, "Sometimes other people do things that make you angry," Her hand dropped to the other witch's shoulder and she squeezed tightly, "It's unfortunate, really."

Hermione squirmed under Daphne's bruising grip. She let out a sigh and abruptly turned around in her chair and fixed the blonde with a serious look, "Daphne, I know why you're acting like this."

"Acting like what?" Daphne asked innocently, forcing her back around to face the mirror. She reached over to the side drawer to pull out a jar of hair cream and straightened back up with a perfectly neutral expression on her face, "Is this not how you treat a friend?"

"I get it, okay," Hermione muttered as Daphne began to rake the perfumed cream through her hair rather roughly, "I haven't been acting like a good friend to you these past few months. I'm so sorry, Daphne."

She winced as Daphne's fingers inevitably hit a snag in her tangled curly mane.

"I–I was stupid. You were the only people who showed me any kindness and truly accepted me for who I was." Hermione dropped her gaze to her lap as shame colored her cheeks, "And I repaid your kindness by turning my back on you."

Daphne remained silent as she combed through her hair, and so Hermione continued to ramble nervously, "I was just so scared that one day, even you all would grow tired of me. I'm the only muggleborn in the group, you know. I suppose I thought if I walked away first, it would hurt less," She bit her lip and forced out, "But I was wrong. I was–Merlin, I was so fucking wrong. Now you hate me, and Draco hates me, and well–everyone hates me for what I did."

Daphne paused for a moment and sighed, "I don't hate you."

"You have every right to," Hermione raised her eyes up to meet Daphne's shuttered gaze in the mirror, "I turned our back on our friendship and accused you of trying to hurt me when you've been the one casting protection charms on me every time I go home to the muggle world."

A flash of surprise flickered over her face and Daphne swallowed hard, "I wasn't aware you knew about that."

Hermione snorted, "You thought I wouldn't notice a charm being casted over me?"

A hint of a smile played at Daphne's lips, "You were always too smart for your own good." She pulled out her wand and aimed it at the petite witch's hair, "Hold still for this part."

Hermione obediently sat still while Daphne straightened her hair, afraid to even speak up again. She watched almost enviously as the witch smoothed her bushy hair into sleek, straight strands in nearly a quarter of the time it would've taken her to do it herself. When Daphne was finished, she was rendered almost speechless by the transformation.

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione gasped in awe, reaching up to touch one of the smooth strands of hair, "I look like a Stepford wife."

"A what?" Daphne frowned.

"Nothing," Hermione stammered. "It looks great, thank you, Daphne. You really didn't have to do this. Especially when I've been such a horrid little bitch to everyone this term."

"Not the entire term," Daphne smirked, "Just the last month." She leaned over to pick up her wand and turned back to look at her with slightly kinder eyes, "Don't worry, I've already forgiven you for it."

"You have?" Hermione knitted her brows together, "But why? I–I acted like you all were going to kill me in cold blood after Dumbledore–who I don't even like–managed to convince me you all were of the wrong sort."

"Granger, are you trying to change my mind?" Daphne asked sharply. She muttered a couple beauty charms and Hermione held her breath as the makeup brushes and various tools began to magically dust her face with a light layer of cosmetics.

Daphne hugged her from behind and admitted, "I forgave you the minute you walked into the Manor. I'll admit, you probably could've come around a little earlier, but I knew it would take a while for you to process everything."

Her stormy blue eyes flashed dangerously and her grip around Hermione's shoulders tightened into a painful hold. Her sharp, perfectly manicured nails dug into the witch's tanned skin as she whispered coldly, "But don't ever try anything like that again. I can't promise I'll be so forgiving the next time."

She stepped away from her then, and Hermione felt relieved by the much-needed space. "There won't be a 'next time'," She promised. "I will always stand by your side."

Daphne watched her apprehensively for a moment before a bright smile broke out on her face and vanished any trace of the cold expression she had been sporting all morning. "I'm so pleased to have you back, Hermione," She let out an annoyed huff, "The boys have been so dull to listen to all month and there are certain things I can't exactly talk about with Destiny. We're going to have so much fun catching up after this breakfast with Lady Malfoy."

"Glad to know nothing has changed then," Hermione snickered. She paused as a sudden thought struck her, "Daphne, how did Lady Malfoy even know I was here? Theo and I just arrived a few hours ago."

Daphne fidgeted under her friend's suspicious look and eventually after a long beat of silence, she threw her hands up in surrender, "Alright, fine. You caught me. She wrote to me earlier this morning and requested that I meet her for breakfast. But I didn't want to go alone."

"Daphne!" Hermione squeaked, "You can't just drag me along because you don't want to go alone!"

"I know, it is rather rude of me, isn't it?" Daphne moaned. "She'll have to set another place at the table because it would be even more of an insult to turn you away."

"Or, I could simply notgo," Hermione deadpanned.

Daphne grabbed her arm, "No, please, Hermione, you must come. Lady Malfoy is rather upset with me and I can't face her alone. She terrifies me more than my own mother."

"Daphne, you're a grown woman," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why does she scare you so much?"

"She thinks I don't understand the pressures that come with being publicly linked to Hadrian," Daphne explained uncertainly, "I think she's trying to warn me, in her own Slytherin way, but I'm not the naïve little girl she thinks I am. I know exactly what I'm doing."

"You're not doing any favors to her impression of you if you refuse to see her alone," Hermione pointed out.

"I just can't do it! She's going to be so disappointed in me."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest, "Why would she be disappointed in you? You're the perfect pureblood girl, even Draco thinks so."

"Not perfect," Daphne felt her cheeks heat up, "Hadrian wanted to take me back to our room yesterday after Lady Malfoy had healed me, but she thought it was improper that we shared a room. Hadrian was rather insistent, however, and he carried me upstairs despite her disapproval," She winked at her friend mischievously, "It was quite sexy, actually."

"Wait a second," Hermione frowned, "She had to heal you? What happened? Are you hurt?"

Daphne averted her gaze and her voice was quiet as she said, "I got blasted by a spell half-way through the skirmish that night. I didn't even realize how bad it was until–" Her voice faltered and she shook her head resolutely, "I'm alright now, but it left behind a nasty scar. I–I can cover it with some glamor charms and by wearing different clothes, but it's always just a horrible reminder of that pain."

Hermione's eyes widened, "Why didn't you tell me earlier, Daphne?"

Daphne's hands flew to her hips indignantly, "I'm sorry, you were too busy playing hopscotch with your loyalty! When was I supposed to tell you? Before or after you pledged your loyalty to Potter?"

The curly haired witch rubbed a tired hand over her face, "I'm so sorry, Daphne. I should've been there. Maybe having one more person fighting alongside you would've prevented this."

"Do you feel sorry enough to accompany me to breakfast?" Daphne asked hopefully.

"No!" Hermione shot her an irritated look. "Listen, Draco already hates me. I can't go off and have breakfast with his mother just because you're scared of getting scolded. It's too awkward."

Daphne gasped out loud, pressing a hand against her collarbone, "Oh no, my scar–it–it hurts so badly."

"What am I even going to say to her?" Hermione demanded to know. Her voice became deadly sweet as she pretended to make polite conversation, "Hello Lady Malfoy, it's me, Hermione Granger, the mudblood who has only snogged your son in broom closets and empty classrooms. But don't worry! That stopped after I accused him of being a monster, right after he helped me cover up the murder of my own father! And did I forget to mention, I was the one who murdered him!"

"I can't stand the pain! Oh Hermione, if only you hadn't been so cruel to us last month, you could've saved me from the agony!"

"Daphne, you can't be serious," Hermione groaned. "Are you really using your injury to guilt me into coming with you to protect you from Lady Malfoy's wrath?"

"It just hurts so much–"

"Dear Merlin, fine! Fine, I'll go with you," Hermione snapped. "Just stop being so dramatic."

Daphne smiled, the expression of pain in her features fading completely as she smoothed a hand over her hair. "Good. I was just about burst into tears–I can cry on command, you know–so I'll thank you for saving me the effort of touching up my makeup."

"Manipulative witch," Hermione tried to act annoyed, though she was unable to hide the fondness in her voice, "I definitely didn't miss your Slytherin ways."

Hadrian tapped the newspaper on his desk, narrowing his eyes at the picture printed on the front page.

"Draco," He called out, causing the blond to glance up from the file on his lap he had been perusing. "Tell your godfather I'd like to have a chat with him sometime soon."

"Uncle Severus?" Draco raised an eyebrow, "What shall I tell him it's concerning?"

"Don't," Hadrian said simply.

Neville had only been inside his family's Gringotts vault a handful of times. Once with his grandmother to pick up a necklace she had needed for a party. Another time was to retrieve a pouch full of coins before his first year at Hogwarts. Then again before his fourth year to pick out an expensive set of platinum cuff links for his dress robes.

This was the first time he had entered the cavern glittering with his family fortune without his grandmother, however.

She would probably drop dead on the spot if she realized why he was there, Neville thought with a smirk. He surveyed the large piles of gold and the jewels that sparkled throughout the room with a critical eye.

"This might take a while," He said to the ornery goblin that had accompanied him down to the vault. "Perhaps you should wait outside," He suggested, not unkindly.

The goblin didn't need to be told twice, mumbling something decidedly impolite under his breath in his native tongue as he exited the vault.

Neville turned back to the cave nearly filled to the brim with gold and expensive artifacts. He grimaced as he stepped on a shiny diamond crown lying on the floor, nearly breaking it in half. It would take forever to sort through even half the items in the room.

He didn't mind, though. It had to be absolutely perfect.

Hermione Granger glanced uneasily at the two witches sitting at opposite ends of the table and promptly downed the rest of her drink. Slowly, she set the thin stemmed champagne flute back onto the table and was secretly awed by how it immediately refilled itself with the mimosa the house elf had served with her breakfast. She would never grow tired of the wonderous things magic could do.

Though if she were being honest, the endless replenishment charm on their glasses was now proving to be more of a curse than a blessing. She knew that drinking herself into a stupor so early in the day probably wasn't the best decision to make–especially not in front of Draco's mother.

The urge to do it regardless of the fact, was so very tempting.

They had only been sitting here for about half an hour, and Hermione was convinced that if this painfully awkward conversation continued for even a minute longer, she would be forced to off herself.

Everything had been going downhill from the moment she and Daphne had arrived in the front floo parlour within Malfoy Manor, and had been directed by a house elf to meet Lady Malfoy on the veranda outside. Hermione barely even had a chance to appreciate the perfectly manicured grass and the picture-esque rows of roses and flowers that bloomed beautifully in the garden before Daphne had pulled her towards the table Lady Malfoy was seated at.

It was at that moment that Hermione Granger realized that members of pureblood high society were practically from a whole other planet. With their sleek, meticulously groomed appearance and the fact that she might need a translator to understand the subtext in their conversations, she felt remarkably out of place.

Narcissa Malfoy, to her credit, had barely faltered when she had appeared beside Daphne, nervous and nearly shaking with fear. The elder witch simply snapped her fingers, calling her house-elf to arrange another place setting at the table. Lady Malfoy had then greeted her by name and gestured for them both to take a seat, blandly inquiring about their studies, their parents, their hobbies, whether they had seen the latest robes on the Paris runway–all frivolous topics that set Hermione even more on edge than before.

Hermione had been unsure of how to properly act around Draco's mother at first, since she hadn't been raised with knowledge on etiquette in the wizarding world like her other friends. She ended up attempting to simply copy Daphne's behavior and mannerisms as best as she could.

She would watch discreetly as Daphne cut a small piece of her omelet and chewed it for what felt like forever, before setting her silverware back onto her plate and asking a polite question to keep their already strained conversation going. Pureblood women apparently didn't eat anything, Hermione noticed, since it had been half an hour and both their plates looked relatively untouched.

They also loved to ask rather innocuous sounding questions, but apparently the true meaning of the question and answer was something else entirely. It had taken a while for her to truly understand what was going on, but eventually she was able to pick up the hidden meaning weaved throughout their conversation.

"Draco has been quite the dedicated chaperone, Lady Malfoy. You and Lord Malfoy have certainly raised him well," Daphne had complimented.

Translation: Draco had been a little shite who barely allowed Daphne and Hadrian to have any alone time.

"I do hope you are doing better today, Miss. Greengrass. Such a painful injury must require adequate time to recover. I trust you got a good night's sleep?" Lady Malfoy had asked Daphne, taking a small sip of her drink.

Translation: Daphne and Hadrian better have kept their hands to themselves last night.

"I do hope Lady Lestrange had enough time to sleep in this morning, I know she was rather… emotional about Destiny's condition," Daphne wondered aloud.

Translation: Bellatrix Lestrange is crazy.

"She was quite distraught," Lady Malfoy agreed.

Translation: Yes, yes, she is.

Hermione was starting to get sick of their back-and-forth banter. Neither witch had raised her voice for even a second, but even she could feel the tension start to rise between the two. She closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat, desperate to make herself as small as possible.

She must have completely zoned out for a bit, because when she looked at Daphne out of the corner of her eye, she was startled to her friend throw her napkin onto the table in anger.

"Lady Malfoy, while I appreciate your kind wisdom and words of advice, I am not obligated to listen to you since you are not my mother," Daphne hissed.

Translation:

Hermione nearly knocked her glass over when she realized that there was no snarky hidden meaning behind Daphne's words. She had actually spoken–rather rudely if Hermione were to judge–to the elder matriarch of the Malfoy family in such a way.

"Daphne," She whispered, stealing a glance at the shocked expression of the elder witch. "Perhaps you should apologize."

There was a long, even more uncomfortable moment of silence–something that Hermione didn't think was possible at this point–before Narcissa Malfoy shook her head and cleared her throat delicately, "No, Miss. Granger. It is I that should apologize to Miss. Greengrass. She is correct, it is not my place to speak up on such matters. I do hope you'll forgive me, Daphne."

Daphne frowned, both at the fact that the elder witch was apologizing to her and at the casual use of her first name, "I–You don't have to apologize, Lady Malfoy."

"I do," Narcissa insisted. Her eyes softened as she turned her gaze on the two witches seated at the breakfast table, "While I may not be your mother and you are in no way obligated to listen to me, I nevertheless feel obligated to prevent you from making the same mistakes I did. You see, we were once in the same position, Miss. Greengrass."

Daphne's grip tightened around her fork, "Oh?"

A faraway look graced Narcissa's features, almost as if she were recalling a distant memory, "Sometimes I think powerful men are like the sea. They have an almost mysterious allure to them that makes us forget what they're truly capable of. If you are not careful around them, they will ruthlessly pull you into their crashing depths without another thought."

"Hadrian isn't like that," Daphne maintained, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh darling," Narcissa gave her a sad smile, "They're all like that."

"Even Malfoy-I mean–even Draco?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"My son is no exception," Narcissa shrugged elegantly. "Surely you've noticed men are quite entitled creatures. They take whatever they desire, whether or not they deserve it."

"What are you trying to say?" Daphne began slowly. "Why are you telling me this? Are you suggesting I walk away?"

"Oh, heavens no," The elder witch shook her head, as though the mere suggestion was ridiculous, "You misunderstand, Miss. Greengrass. You should most definitely not walk away. Hadrian Riddle has always been a son to me, and if I may be so bold as to say I believe you would make an excellent companion for him. You make quite the stunning pair and I'm sure your offspring will be very powerful."

Daphne choked on her drink and even Hermione's eyes widened.

Lady Malfoy pretended not to notice and continued on, "There are certain responsibilities you have if you are to be the witch at his side, Miss. Greengrass. It is very easy for these types of men to get carried away and become drunk on their newfound power. They may lose sight of their true goals or turn a blind eye to injustice simply because it suits them. The entire world may bow to them, but you have to make it clear that you will not."

"I'm certain I can handle it," Daphne insisted.

"No, you are reckless," Lady Malfoy chided. "You could have bled out in the middle of the sitting room yesterday and you still haven't learned your lesson. Fighting on the frontlines is not where you will thrive, Miss. Greengrass. Your responsibility is to be the one in control, to stop him from making the decisions you know will be a mistake. Your influence over him is powerful, Daphne, but you need to know how to use it."

Daphne opened her mouth as if to argue but she abruptly closed it once the weight of Narcissa's words finally settled. "I'm not incapable of fighting," She whispered as it finally clicked, "But I need to be more careful so I can be the one in control."

"Precisely," Narcissa nodded. "You need to draw the line, Miss. Greengrass. Never lose sight of what matters the most."

There was an awkward beat of silence before Hermione finally raised her eyes up to look at the elder blonde witch. "I–I'm sorry about your husband, Lady Malfoy," She spoke solemnly.

If she hadn't been paying attention, she would've missed the way Lady Malfoy's shoulders stiffened minutely and her lips pursed together in a thin line. She shook her head softly and said, "My husband is a strong man, Miss. Granger." Her voice was slightly hoarse, betraying the true state of her emotions for only a second as she added, "I trust he will be alright."

Hermione felt her brows knit together in confusion and she blurted out, "Y-You truly love him?"

Daphne gasped, "Hermione!"

Narcissa surprised her by letting out a quiet laugh, "No, no it's alright."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione flushed scarlet, feeling rather embarrassed at her faux pas. "Forgive me, Lady Malfoy. It's just, I've heard purebloods don't marry for love."

"While it is true the majority of pureblood marriages in our community are arraigned or contracted for at birth, not all of them are quite like that," Narcissa revealed.

"Was it love at first sight?" Daphne asked cheekily.

Narcissa scoffed, "Darling, when I first met Lucius, I practically hated him on sight. He was an arrogant, spiteful little child, despite the fact that he was almost two years older than me."

"Sounds familiar," Hermione grumbled to herself.

"Hm?"

"I said, how did that change?" Hermione hurried to correct herself. "I mean, if you hated him but then you ended up getting married?"

"Well," Narcissa took a small sip of her drink as she began to reminisce, "As Slytherins, we mostly stuck to our own back then. I was forced to simply spend more time with him in the common room, in the library, at the breakfast table. Eventually, I got to see a different side to Lucius, and I realized that people are much more complicated than they may seem on the surface. He courted me for nearly a year before I finally started to understand him."

"And then he proposed and then you lived happily ever after?" Daphne sighed dreamily.

"Quite the opposite, actually," Narcissa smirked. "I wanted to focus on my studies and told Lucius I was not interested in getting married before I graduated Hogwarts. Despite this, he still tried to propose not even a month later and had the gall to be cross with me when I turned him down. In his anger, he revealed that our parents had already signed a betrothal contract between us long before he had even officially started to court me."

"Weren't you furious with him?" Hermione frowned. "He lied to you!"

"I was quite angry with him at first," Lady Malfoy admitted. "I refused to see him for weeks. It gave me a lot of time to think and I eventually understood why he had kept such a big secret from me. He knew I had always been quite the romantic, and despite his spoiled ways, he wanted to give me the illusion that all the pieces fell into place naturally. It took me a long time to come around, but I realized that I already had what I wanted with Lucius. I suppose it wasn't a great whirlwind romance like I had always desired, but I was happy with him," Narcissa smiled to herself, "Even if we weren't betrothed, I know I would have found my way back to him."

"How did you know he was the one?" Hermione asked after a moment of hesitation.

"It wasn't a difficult choice," Narcissa Malfoy turned the full weight of her dark black eyes on her, "I simply couldn't imagine standing by anyone else."

Riddle Manor [July 1st]

"Severus Snape," Hadrian leaned back in his armchair, "What a pleasant surprise."

"I can't imagine it was all that surprising," Snape deadpanned, "Considering you were the one who summoned me here."

"Can I offer you a drink?"

"It's one in the afternoon, Riddle," Snape rolled his eyes.

"Right, of course," He nodded, gesturing for the other man to take a seat beside him. "Why don't you sit down?"

"Why am I here, Riddle?" His professor sighed, walking over to the armchair and settling down with an annoyed huff, "He hasn't asked anything of me for over a year. I can hardly imagine he needs my help now."

Hadrian's eyes glinted with amusement. "Well of course he hasn't," His lips curved up into a small smirk, "He's dead."

Snape stiffened in his seat and whipped his head around to look at the young heir in disbelief. He shook his head, forcing out a laugh, "N–No, of course he isn't. What a dreadful little joke, Hadrian."

Hadrian cocked his head to the side, "I don't recall telling any jokes."

"You can't be serious," Snape growled. "Why would you think your father is dead?"

"Because I killed him," Hadrian laughed, a dark, bitter sound that left the potions professor even more on edge than before. "I thought I'd mentioned that earlier."

"No," Snape gritted his teeth together. "You mentioned no such thing."

"Perhaps I have been remiss in informing you of the changes we've had as of late," Hadrian said offhandedly. "You see, I wasn't quite sure that I could trust you."

"Trust me?" His professor repeated, his eyebrows rising to his hairline in incredulity.

"Don't look so affronted," Hadrian waved his hand dismissively, "Out of all the Death Eaters, you're the only one who hasn't been properly vetted. Lucius insisted he trusted you, but now he's in Azkaban and I'm afraid I'm not as convinced as he was."

Severus Snape swallowed hard, struggling to hide his emotions in front of the cruel wizard he knew existed under that lanky boyish frame and the charming smile. Over the past few years, he was sure that Hadrian Riddle was even more dangerous than his father had been. The Dark Lord had been ruthless, but he had also relied on pure chaos and violence to get what he had wanted.

Hadrian Riddle didn't need to bother with the bloodshed. He already had half of the Hogwarts students and professors eating out of the palm of his hand. Even Albus's warnings about the young man didn't faze his colleagues. They were far too enamored with his pretty words and charismatic personality.

He snapped out of his inner ramblings when Riddle cleared his throat, looking at him expectantly for an answer. Severus Snape allowed himself to collect his thoughts for a moment before he turned to face the brat in question.

"Your father isn't dead," Severus clenched his jaw, "Even if you think you killed him–he's not dead. The Dark Lord had created several…fail-safes, if you will….to prevent himself from being truly killed."

Hadrian snorted, "You mean his horcruxes?"

Snape faltered, "I wasn't aware you knew about their existence."

"You'd be surprised at what I know, Severus," Hadrian revealed, "Like your apparent Order of the Phoenix membership status."

"Obviously you don't know everything, then," Snape scoffed. "Your father asked me to join the Order. I've been slowly gaining Dumbledore's trust while spying for your father since I was of age."

"But surely you recognize the problem with such ruses," Hadrian stared at him coldly, "After a while, the thin line between the truth and the lies begins to blur."

"Your father trusted me," Snape pointed out with a frown, shifting uneasily under the weight of his gaze, "Lucius Malfoy trusts me."

Hadrian narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, "Unfortunately for you, that doesn't change my opinion about your loyalty. Tell me, Severus. Should I be concerned?"

"I've given you no reason to doubt my loyalty," Snape sneered. "Why all of a sudden? If you truly suspected I had betrayed you, I would be already be dead, wouldn't I?"

Hadrian smiled widely, "You're learning fast, Professor."

"Why are you wasting my time, Riddle?" The man snapped. "I have better things to do today than entertain you."

"What if I told you Draco was searching your entire house as we speak?" Hadrian watched with rapt interest as Snape inhaled sharply. His smile turned almost predatory and he questioned, "Should I expect him to find anything interesting?"

"You can't go through my things," Snape hissed in a low voice, "I've given you no reason to doubt me! How many times do I need to tell you? I haven't betrayed you!"

"Yet," Hadrian drawled. "You haven't betrayed me, yet."

"Why would I betray you?" Snape sighed in exasperation. "I believe in our cause. Don't you think you're a bit too paranoid?"

"Perhaps," Hadrian allowed. "But even my father wasn't paranoid enough and look where it got him. He was murdered by his own heir."

"Wow, what a charming little thing you can add to your resume," Snape bit out. "I wonder whether patricide falls under accomplishments or hobbies?"

"You haven't answered my question, Severus," Hadrian shook his head, as though he were the professor chastising a student. "I asked you quite plainly: Will Draco find anything of importance?"

Severus Snape watched his student with a horrible sneer on his face, resisting the urge to draw his wand on the brat right there. Though he had years of experience over Riddle, he doubted he would escape the room alive if he decided to fight the younger wizard. Even if he had experience, Riddle had no sense of a moral compass. He was sure the boy wouldn't hesitate to kill him on the spot if he was pushed too far.

"If Draco is clever enough to break the concealment charm on the floor of my private potions lab," Snape reluctantly whispered, "He might find something."

"Don't be coy, Professor," Hadrian Riddle smugly raised an eyebrow, knowing he had won their little spat. "Tell me exactly what you've tried to hide away."

"It's not mine," Snape automatically defended himself. He cleared his throat, "Albus entrusted it to me a few weeks ago. Old coot is just as paranoid as you are. He thinks someone might be looking for it."

"And what exactly is it?"

Snape sighed, "It's a ring. The Gaunt family ring, to be precise. It's another– "

"Horcrux," Hadrian finished, frowning slightly. "Well, that is a complication."

"I'll find a way," Severus glanced at the younger man cautiously, "I won't let Albus destroy it–not that he even knows how to begin destroying a horcrux."

"Hm," Hadrian leaned back in his seat thoughtfully, "Has he tried basilisk venom?"

"I–What?" Snape sputtered.

"That's how I destroyed my father's diary–it was another horcrux of his–in my second year," He explained to his professor. "I fed it to a basilisk."

"I don't understand," Snape furrowed his brows, "Why would you destroy it?"

"I see your hearing has deteriorated with age," Hadrian shook his head, "Did you not listen to the part where I said I killed him?"

"My age has nothing to do with it," Severus retorted. "You're being purposefully evasive."

Hadrian pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance, "I don't need my father coming back and ruining things for me. He's gone–at least for the time being–and I would like to make it permanent."

"So what?" Severus raised an eyebrow, "You want me to let Albus destroy it?"

"No," The younger man drawled, "I want you to destroy it. And all the other ones he has left."

"But–"

"I'm the Dark Lord now," Hadrian's voice was barely above a whisper, but it made Snape flinch, nevertheless. "You will do as I say."

"Your wish is my command," His professor said dryly.

"Excellent," Hadrian nodded, "It should help your cover with the Order as well."

"Convinced I'm a loyal soldier now?"

"Not quite yet," Hadrian snapped, "I'm not stupid–"

"Are you sure about that?" Snape snarked at him.

"I don't believe for a second your faith in our mission is enough to maintain your loyalty to this side," Hadrian murmured. "I know better than to blindly put my trust in others now. I need some leverage before I can trust anyone else."

"What do you want?" His professor blinked. "What proof do you need?"

"I'd like to offer you an incentive, Professor," Hadrian grinned.

"Is it an incentive?" Snape challenged wryly, "Or a threat?"

Hadrian grinned wider, "I know why you initially joined our cause, Severus. It wasn't because you believed in our mission, as you put it. It was because you wanted to protect someone."

"That's not true– "

"I don't care whether or not you were loyal to my father," Hadrian raised a hand up to stop his professor's defensive rambling. "But you will be loyal to me."

"Speak clearly, Riddle. I told you not to waste my time."

"If I were to offer you the same deal, would you agree to it?" Hadrian inquired.

"No," Snape narrowed his eyes, "It's too late. That promise was never fulfilled, and I know better than to trust you. The damage has been done."

"You know," Hadrian's tone was overly-casual as he pointed out, "It could be worse. I could have them killed."

Snape's gaze snapped over to him and his lips pursed into a thin line, "No," He whispered, "You can't do that."

"I don't believe the question is whether or not I can, it's whether or not I would," Hadrian shrugged. "That part depends completely on you. Can you be truly loyal to me, Professor?"

"So, you are threatening me," Snape decided with a heavy sigh.

Hadrian chuckled, rising up from his armchair and clapping his Professor on the back in a rather deceptive show of camaraderie, "I'll give you a few days to decide, Severus. I would think carefully about it, opportunities like this only come once in a lifetime."

"I want an Unbreakable Vow," Snape insisted, standing up rather suddenly. "If–If you're going to make such promises, I want it in writing. I refuse to be baited and manipulated again."

Hadrian paused in the doorway, not even bothering to turn around. His voice was cold as he replied, "You should be grateful I'm even giving you a choice, Sir. If my father were in this position, he would've done it quite differently."