A/N: Hiii sorry this update is super late. In my defense, I've had an overall really horrible month and on top of that I had half this chapter written and then MY WORD DOC KEPT CRASHING so I lost literally 2000 words rip. Then I got mad and refused to write for a week out of spite to Microsoft and Bill Gates, so I apologize for the late chapter. I'm going to need y'all to bear with me for the next chapter or so, because things will start picking up QUICK and I'm just figuring out the best way to pace it all out so I apologize if things seem a little slow for now.

Anyways, enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think/theories! You guys come up with some fun stuff, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Hogwarts Castle [September 21st]

Hadrian Riddle whistled softly to himself as he tossed an apple in the air, easily catching it in his hands as he walked through the oddly silent castle corridors. The leaves were just starting to change colors outside, and the air was crisp from the slightest drop in temperature the night before–all in all making it the perfect autumn day to skive off class and read a book by the lake.

Which, Hadrian had been planning on doing, right until he passed by the embroidered tapestry of Medina the Great on the second floor. He stopped in his tracks, almost dropping his apple in surprise when he heard the distinct sniffling noises coming from behind the heavy fabric. He wrinkled his nose as his gaze zeroed in on the small pair of carefully shined Mary Janes sticking out from the bottom of the tapestry.

Hadrian cringed, glancing around to make sure nobody had seen him before quickly picking up his pace and continuing to march down the hallway. He shook his head at the close call and raised the apple to his lips to take a bite when he heard it.

"Uh, Mr. Head Boy?" An unnaturally high-pitched voice called out from behind him. There was the sound of a few shuffled footsteps and then, "Mr. Head Boy, sir?"

Hadrian stiffened. He slowly turned around to see a little girl nervously tugging at her blue tie as she stared up at him with watery eyes.

"My name is Hadrian Riddle–not 'Mr. Headboy-Sir'," He arched a brow, sneering down at the girl that was clearly just a first year. "Why are you out of class, Miss–?"

"My name's Cindy," The first year hiccupped. "Cindy Dempsey."

"Look, I don't particularly care what your name is," Hadrian sighed, slipping his apple into the pocket of his robes. "Why are you out of class, Miss. Dempsey?"

"You don't seem very nice," The little girl–Cindy–observed. Her brows knit together into a deep frown, "Professor Flitwick said the Head students would always be happy to help us if we ever needed their assistance, but you look annoyed."

"And you look like you're in Ravenclaw," Hadrian noticed the deep blue tie she was fidgeting with. "Go bother Granger. I'm sure she would be very happy to help you with whatever frivolous little girl problems you're having."

He turned to leave, fully intent on making it to the Black Lake before he would have to show up for double potions in an hour. Unfortunately, he didn't get very far down the hall as a small hand pulled at his arm a few moments later.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Cindy breathed, already out of breath from jogging to keep up with his much longer strides.

He rolled his eyes but gave her a reluctant nod after a beat of silence.

The first year lowered her voice to a whisper. "Miss. Granger scares us," She confessed. "She's very nice, but she always chases us around the common room with study schedules for exams even though it's only September." Her shoulders drooped slightly, "We just wanted to play one round of exploding snap."

Hadrian snorted, "Sounds like Granger, alright." He checked his watch, "That still doesn't explain why you aren't in class, Miss. Dempsey."

Cindy's face dropped for a second, but then she quickly countered, "Well, why aren't you in class?"

He smirked, "I'm the Head Boy. I'm taking care of official Hogwarts business."

"Is that why you were using a secret passageway?" She asked innocently, "To avoid being seen on your 'official school business'?"

"Observant little thing, aren't you?" Hadrian mused out loud. His eyes flickered with amusement as he shook his head, "Unfortunately, I'm not in the mood for chitchat, Miss. Dempsey. Why are you snotting all over an ancient tapestry instead of attending your classes? If I recall correctly, first year Ravenclaws should be in Defense right now."

"So, you did see me!" Cindy gasped. She put her hands on her hips, "Were you just going to pretend you didn't hear me crying?"

"That was the goal, yes," Hadrian shrugged. "But now that you've practically forced me to acknowledge your presence, I'll have to escort you back to class."

"No!" Cindy cried out, flinching away as his hand curled around her shoulder. She stepped out of his reach and shook her head firmly, "I don't want to go back to defense."

"Let me guess–you have a quiz you didn't prepare for?" He furrowed his brows at the terrified glint that passed through Cindy's wide brown eyes. "Defense against the dark arts certainly isn't a class to cry over. In terms of subject matter, it's honestly one of the easiest courses in the castle."

"I'm not crying because I think Defense is hard," Cindy spat. Her lips curled into a sneer, "I'm in Ravenclaw, for god's sake. Don't be insulting, Mr. Head Boy."

"Then why are you crying?" Hadrian huffed. When he noticed the younger girl hesitate slightly, he narrowed his eyes. "If you don't tell me, I'm afraid I'll have to give you detentions for the rest of the semester."

"But that's not fair!" The girl argued back, "Dennis Creevey spilled slime all over the fourth-floor corridor and he only got two weeks of detention! You can't give me detention for the rest of the year for crying in a hallway."

"I can do whatever I want," Hadrian grinned wickedly. "I'm the–" He paused for a second before clearing his throat, "I'm the Head Boy."

"This is an abuse of power," Cindy stomped her foot and glared at him.

"It sure is," He nodded in agreement. "Now start talking, Miss. Dempsey."

Cindy dropped her gaze to the floor as her shoulders sagged in sad acquiescence. She was silent for a few seconds before she whispered, "I don't want to go to class because I hate the Carrows."

Hadrian pursed his lips, leaning down to hear her muffled words better. "You're going to have to speak up, Miss. Dempsey– "

"I said, I bloody hate the Carrows!" Cindy exclaimed, glancing up at him with angry tears brimming her eyes. Her hands trembled with barely suppressed rage, as she hissed, "Professor Carrow and his sister are horrible to us. During defense, Professor Carrow makes us practice dark curses on each other. If we try to refuse, he doesn't hesitate to punish us himself–using unforgivables. I can't take it anymore!"

He stiffened. His jaw clenched into a hard line as he repeated, "He uses unforgivables against the students?"

"Well, not the killing curse, but he throws around a cruciatus curse at least once a class session," Cindy confessed. "He's even worse to us muggleborns," She swiped away at her tears in frustration. "He says he can smell the filthy muggle in our blood."

Hadrian swallowed hard. His voice remained remarkably controlled when he eventually said, "Thank you for letting me know, Miss. Dempsey." He held out an arm and offered the younger girl a nod, "Allow me to escort you back to class."

Cindy blinked at him with confusion and the slightest hint of betrayal swimming in her gaze. "But I–" She cut herself off abruptly with a resigned sigh. "Oh, alright." She reluctantly threaded her arm through his as Hadrian began to lead them through the castle.

Their short walk back to the defense classroom was full of heavy silence, and Hadrian barely spared her a glance as she continued to sniffle all the way through the halls. By the time they reached the double doors that lead into the classroom, there were already silent tears rolling down her cheeks as Cindy tried to hold in her choked sobs.

Hadrian stopped in front of the doors and turned back to face her with a stern expression. "Wait here," He instructed her. "I think I'd like to have a quick word with Professor Carrow–alone."

"B–but," Cindy stuttered, still shocked the Head Boy wasn't forcing her back into the classroom, "What about the rest of the class? Where will we go?"

Hadrian shot her a sly smirk, "It's almost lunch time, isn't it? Tell everyone to enjoy some fresh air outside for the rest of the class period."

And with that, Hadrian pushed through the doors to the defense classroom, instantly halting the different practice duels inside. He grimaced, noting almost immediately that the students were taking turns casting remarkably dark spells on each other–just as Cindy had said–instead of practicing proper dueling techniques.

"Mr. Riddle," Amycus Carrow raised his voice as the rest of the class slowly quieted down. He crossed his arms over his chest with a frown, "Why have you decided to interrupt my class?"

"I'd like to have a word with you, Professor," Hadrian smiled tightly at the other man. He scanned the room with a lazy smirk, "I'm sure your students wouldn't mind being let out a little earlier today."

Amycus Carrow held his gaze, "There's still half an hour left of class. I don't think– "

"Yes," Hadrian's eyes darkened. "You don't think." He gestured to the doors and nodded encouragingly at a group of students sitting in the front, "Consider class dismissed for today. I need to speak to Professor Carrow about some important matters."

The class didn't need to be told twice, and before he had even finished speaking, they began to pack up their things and hurry out the door. As the last student exited the room, Hadrian slowly shut the door behind him and turned back to face the older wizard at the front of the room.

"My Lord–"Amycus opened his mouth, but he was quickly silenced as Hadrian held up a hand.

"Did I say you could speak?" Hadrian cocked his head to the side, carefully arranging his features into a blank expression as he walked across the makeshift dueling floor set up in the room.

"I–"

Hadrian shot the other man a dark look. "The correct answer is 'No', Amycus, I did not grant you permission to speak," He rolled his eyes up at the ceiling in annoyance, "Merlin knows you've said enough." He gestured absentmindedly to the row of benches lined up in front of the chalkboard. "Why don't you have a seat?"

Amycus Carrow grunted, but quickly crossed the short distance to the first bench and sat down when Hadrian began to tap his foot impatiently. He watched with guarded eyes as Hadrian then made his way over to his desk and sat down on the edge.

"Amycus, why do you think I allowed Severus to hire you and your sister?" Hadrian inquired blandly. "Did you think it was because you were an expert in the dark arts?" His voice was low and mocking as he continued, "Did you think it was because I wanted to reward you for successfully achieving nothing of significance for the past twenty years?" He began to drum his fingers on the side of the desk as he kept his cold green eyes trained on the weathered Death Eater sitting before him. "Or did you think I brought you into this castle so you could freely torture the students you were supposed to teach?"

He noticed the other man start to turn an alarming shade of puce and his lips quirked up into an amused grin. "You can speak now, by the way," He added.

"I'll have you know," The Carrow sibling began, gritting his teeth together as his face twisted into a harsh scowl. "I have a mastery in the Dark Arts, and Severus hired me since I was clearly the best to teach these unappreciative hellions about the beauty of dark magick–"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Hadrian cut him off with a dismissive wave. "Unfortunately, I don't really agree with your teaching methods, Amycus. I didn't bring you here so you could act on your pathetic vendetta against muggleborns–"

"Disgusting creatures," Amycus spat.

Hadrian sighed, "See, this is what I'm talking about." He shook his head, and his voice took on an overly gentle quality as though he were speaking to a child, "You can't torture the children, Amycus."

"Your father would have never stood for this blasphemy," Amycus sneered. "He knew what needed to be done to keep our regime in power. But you–you don't understand the iron fist one needs to rule with. This charming little political charade you've played out has distracted you from our true mission."

Hadrian stilled. He raised an eyebrow at the other man, "And what do you think our true mission is?"

"Eliminate the muggleborns," Amycus shrugged. "Purify our world."

"Merlin, you're an idiot," Hadrian pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "But fine, I'll humor you just this once. How do you plan on eradicating all the muggleborns? Are you personally going to deliver each and every muggleborn that springs up across multiple generations to Death's door?"

"If that's what it takes," The man hissed through clenched teeth. "I am loyal to our mission, and I will do anything to ensure that those weeds in our society are uprooted."

"Fuck, you're like a broken music box with the same sad old tune," Hadrian groaned. "They seriously need to raise the standards for getting a Mastery these days. It seems like they're letting anyone earn a degree."

"How dare you–"

"Listen, Amycus, you're really starting to bore me," Hadrian crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm trying to shape the minds of an entire generation, and I can't do that if you and your hag of a sister keep obstructing our progress with your frankly outdated blood supremacy agenda."

"I beg your pardon–"

"Hold that thought," Hadrian interrupted what was sure to be another mindless rant and stood up from the desk. He made a show of brushing off the nonexistent dust from his robes before pulling out the apple he had slipped into his pocket earlier. He smiled coldly at the other man. "How many cruciatus curses do you think you've casted on these students since the start of the school year?"

The professor sputtered in front of him as an angry red flush crept up his neck. "They were refusing to participate in the lesson–I was simply punishing them for their disobedience."

Hadrian narrowed his eyes. "How many?" He repeated.

"I couldn't possibly know the exact number–"

Hadrian let out a disappointed sigh. "Fine, then," He muttered, raising the apple to his lips to take a bite. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment before deciding, "I'll make you a deal, Amycus."

The other man sneered at him, "What kind of deal?"

Hadrian shrugged, "You know, you kind of ruined my plans for today. I was going to enjoy a nice peaceful day by the lake, but now I'm here instead, having to discipline you." He took another bite of his apple and gestured vaguely at the wary Death Eater. "Since I don't get to read my book, I suppose you'll have to entertain me while I finish my snack here."

"What does that mean?" Amycus Carrow pursed his lips, barely suppressing his irritation. "I'm not here for entertainment."

"See, that's where you're wrong, Professor," Hadrian grinned. "You're here to do whatever I tell you to do. And since you've been disobedient for so long now, I can't let that go unpunished, can I?"

Before the older wizard could get another word in, Hadrian pulled out his wand and hissed, "Crucio."

The force of his spell was so powerful, the Death Eater found himself blasted onto the ground in flash of red light. He groaned as the aftershocks of the spell wracked through his thin frame, and he pushed himself into a seated position on the floor.

Hadrian crouched down slightly to peer at the other man's face. He arched a brow at the shivering man and asked, "How many students were in your class today, Amycus?"

"I don't–" Amycus flinched violently when he saw Hadrian raise his wand again. "I–I think seventeen," He blurted out. He nodded to himself, as if to confirm his own thoughts, "Yes, there's seventeen of them."

"Thank you," Hadrian smiled, stepping back from the shuddering man. He leaned back against the professor's desk and took another bite of his apple before saying, "That was one."

"One?" Amycus blinked, licking his suddenly dry lips in confusion. "One what?"

Instead of responding, Hadrian leveled his wand arm at the man and cast another cruciatus curse. He watched the professor convulse against the floor with bored eyes, only dropping the curse when he had finished swallowing the next bite of his apple. "That was two," He announced. "Can you take over the count from here?"

"What–What are you doing?" The Carrow sibling gasped. "I–"

"Well, I am currently polishing off this apple I swiped from the kitchens," Hadrian informed him with a smirk. "In the meantime, I want you to count each round of the cruciatus I'm going to hold you under. If you manage to survive, I'll think about letting you keep your job."

"H-H–" The older wizard twitched, unable to stop the way his words slurred together from the aftereffects of the curse. "How many rounds?"

"However many it takes for me to finish this, I suppose," Hadrian held up the apple innocently. A moment later, his gaze turned to ice, and he fired off another cruciatus curse without warning. "Now, count."

For the next twenty minutes, Hadrian watched in utter boredom as the Death Eater continued to suffer under the crushing weight of his cruciatus curse. Right as the other man choked out, "Seventeen", Hadrian stepped over his crumpled body on the floor and tossed the core of his apple into the wastebasket by the door. He pulled open the door and paused for a second, turning back to fix the professor with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "I hope you and your sister will stick to the curriculum from now on, Professor Carrow. I'd hate to have to pay you another visit."

With that, he slipped out the door and started down the hall. He had barely turned the corner when a small body barreled right into him, and Hadrian reached out a hand to steady the girl as she nearly tripped over her own feet.

"I heard screaming," Cindy Dempsey stared up at him with wide eyes. "Did you–" She paused and bit her lip nervously, "Is Professor Carrow–"

"He won't be bothering you anymore," Hadrian promised. He raised an eyebrow at the younger witch, "You'll keep this between us, won't you Miss. Dempsey?"

The little girl nodded vigorously, reminding him of a bobblehead figurine. He awarded her with a half-smirk as he continued on his way back to the Great Hall. "Any other concerns while we're at it?" He called out, glancing back at her over his shoulder.

Cindy ran up to him again, and her little legs moved furiously to keep up with his pace. "Well," She drew out the word, averting her gaze. "There's this boy in my charms class," She began, rolling her eyes, "He's a Gryffindor–and he's the absolute worst. Not as bad as the Carrows, mind you, but it's like he lives to make my life miserable."

"Now where have I seen that before," Hadrian muttered under his breath as he walked through the doors into the Great Hall. He noticed Hermione wave at him from the Ravenclaw table and he gently nudged Cindy in her direction. "Why don't you talk to your Head Girl about that, Miss. Dempsey. I think she has a bit more experience in that area."

Head Dormitory [October 5th]

Daphne Greengrass woke with a start when a heavy knock sounded outside her door. Her bleary gaze searched the room, finding only empty space and dark furniture bathed in the soft glow of moonlight peeking through the window.

All of a sudden, the knocking stopped. It felt as though she had woken up from a dream, or simply just imagined it all in her head. Her fair brows crinkled in confusion.

"Hadrian," She whispered, gently shaking his shoulder. "Wake up."

Thankfully Hadrian was a fairly light sleeper, and it was only a matter of seconds before he stirred beside her and let out an unnaturally wide yawn. "I'm awake," He groaned softly as he reached for his wand. The moment his fingers curled around the wood, his eyes instantly snapped open, fully alert. "What's happened?"

"Did you hear that?" Daphne let her gaze drift over to the door once more. "I think someone's outside."

Hadrian tightened his grip around her waist, peering over her head at the doorway he religiously warded shut every single night. "I don't hear anything," He murmured after a beat of silence. His voice was rough with sleep as he pressed his cheek into her hair, "This castle has all sorts of strange noises."

As if on cue, another loud knock sounded against their door, but this time it was followed by an all too familiar voice. "Open the door, you tosser. I know you can hear me!"

Hadrian closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "Draco," He gritted out. He glared at the door, as if he were glaring at the annoying twit himself. "What the fuck is he doing here in the middle of the night?"

Daphne pulled a pillow over her head to drown out the sounds of Draco's incessant banging. "Merlin knows," She grumbled. "Tell your irritating friend to go away before I turn him into a paperweight."

"He's your friend too," Hadrian reminded her.

"Not at the moment," She retorted. The banging only seemed to get louder with each passing second, and so she nudged his chest. "Better go see what he wants before he burns his fingers off trying to tear your wards down."

Hadrian paused to consider it. "I'd be okay with that." Eventually, though, he pulled himself away from her to march over to the door. He threw it open, fully intent on blasting Draco all the way back to the dungeons–but the second his eyes fell over the blond, he paused. Hadrian raised an eyebrow at the half-dressed, fully seething Malfoy heir pacing outside his door. "Where are your pants?" He finally ventured to ask after trying–and failing–to hide his amusement.

"Granger threw me out," Draco explained through clenched teeth. He let out an annoyed huff and shook his head, "Infuriating little chit."

"Sure," Hadrian nodded, "That doesn't explain why you were banging on my door like you were eight and one of the peacocks at Malfoy Manor was chasing you around the grounds again."

His friend shot him a frosty glare. "That was very traumatic for me," He sniffed haughtily. "You don't understand what it's like to have something terrifying chase you around your own home."

Hadrian rolled his eyes, "I was literally raised by Tom Riddle."

"That's not nearly as traumatizing, I can assure you," Draco waved his hand dismissively. "Anyways, I needed a pair of trousers before I had to trek back down to the dungeons. I'm not walking around this frigid castle in my boxers."

"You woke me up in the middle of the night because you needed trousers?" Hadrian pinched the bridge of his nose in disbelief. "You're a wizard, aren't you? Why can't you configure a pair?"

"I'm not going to wear a configured blanket," Draco snapped. "Even my pajamas are made of Egyptian silk."

"For Merlin's sake, Draco," Hadrian groaned. "Nobody would even see you in the castle at such an hour."

"But I'd have to see it," Draco insisted. He pretended to shudder. "Blanket trousers. I don't know where you get these horrible ideas from."

Hadrian's eyes narrowed. "The same place I store knowledge on curses that can slowly turn someone's blood to poison," His lips twitched up into a cold smirk, "Would you like to see it, firsthand?"

"It's too early for your murderous threats. Just give me a pair of trousers and I'll be out of your hair," The blond promised. His lips twisted into a grating smile as he added, "I could stand out here all night, if I had to."

Hadrian shot his friend an unimpressed look, but ultimately decided that a pair of his pants was a small price to pay for some peaceful silence. "Fine," He bit out, turning around on the spot to head back into his room before he could see the triumphant grin that graced Draco's features. He walked over to his chest of drawers and began to rifle through, grabbing the first pair of pants he saw.

"What is going on out there?" Daphne shifted herself into a sitting position, clutching the blankets to her chest as her brows knit together in concern. "Did something happen?"

"It's nothing, love," He replied with a shrug. "I think those two got into a fight again, and Granger threw him out." He gave her a reassuring smile, "You know how they are."

"Right," Daphne nodded, looking entirely unconvinced. She watched Hadrian toss a pair of trousers outside the door before slamming it shut with a pleased smirk. He climbed back into their bed a few moments later and threw an arm over his face.

"I wouldn't worry too much," He closed his eyes and sank deeper into the pillows. "I think they just communicate with each other through insults–you know, since they're incapable of conversing like normal people."

"Hmm." Daphne didn't get a chance to comment further on the matter, as the sound of Hadrian's steady breathing soon lulled her to sleep as well. It felt like she had only closed her eyes for a few seconds when there was a soft knock on their door, again.

Hadrian flipped onto his back to glare up at the ceiling. "That's it–I'm going to kill him," He hissed. "First thing tomorrow, I'm changing our common room password. If Granger wants to know the new one, she has to agree to an indefinite Malfoy ban."

Daphne sighed. She slid out of their bed and reached for her dressing robe, not even bothering with a response. She stepped into her fluffy black slippers, carefully tying the sash around her waist to cover up the short nightgown she wore before striding over to the door. The scathing rebuke died on her tongue the second she opened the door, however, as her stormy blue gaze landed on a curly-haired witch instead of the infuriating wizard she had been expecting.

"Hermione?" Her lips curved into a slight frown when she noticed her friend's puffy red eyes and drooping shoulders. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry to wake you," Hermione whispered in a hoarse voice. She swiped a hand over her tear-stained cheek and shook her head, sending her curls flying in every direction. "Draco and I just had a massive row."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Daphne pursed her lips, gently pushing open the door as a silent invitation.

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to just barge in like this in the middle of the night," Hermione began to babble nervously. "I just couldn't sleep, and I didn't know who to talk to and–" She trailed off abruptly. "I should go."

"Hermione," Daphne grabbed her shoulder before she could turn around and march back into her adjacent room. "It's fine. Come in."

"But Hadrian–"

"Can sleep on the couch for one night or go off and make whatever nefarious plans that Dark Lords have these days," Daphne waved off her concerns. "Don't worry about him."

"I don't want to impose–"

"Merlin, I'm already up. You two aren't exactly quiet." Hadrian groaned loudly, cutting off whatever Hermione had been trying to say. She heard some shuffling around and suddenly her friend had joined them at the door, fixing her with a stern glare.

"You and Draco are the bane of my existence, just so you know," Hadrian narrowed his eyes. "But if it means I can get a few more hours of sleep, I'll happily take the couch."

"Thank you," Daphne smiled up at him as she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

He grumbled another curse and pushed past them with a scowl. "This better not become a habit," He warned, "It's my bloody common room and I deserve some peace and quiet," He paused at the staircase and added almost as an afterthought, "And my own comfortable bed."

Hermione watched him jog down the stairs with an unreadable expression. It was only when Daphne cleared her throat did she snap back to reality and turn to face her friend.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Daphne asked, holding open the door to allow the other witch to step inside. She waited until Hermione had settled into the desk chair before she moved to shut the door. "This doesn't seem like your usual petty banter with Draco. If he did anything to hurt you, I swear I'll–"

"He didn't do anything," Hermione hurried to interrupt the angry edge to Daphne's words. "Well," She amended her statement after a beat of silence. "Not intentionally."

"What happened?" Daphne sat back onto her bed and stared at her with worried eyes. "Even when you two were still dancing around each other, I've never seen you so upset."

"Draco wants to get married," The curly-haired witch blurted out, as if she couldn't hold it in any longer.

Daphne gasped, "He proposed?"

"No," Hermione shook her head emphatically. "He mentioned something about how the Lady of the Manor can redecorate Malfoy Manor as she sees fit, and then he made a comment about how he didn't trust me to leave clothes everywhere for the houselves and call it 'décor'."

"Okay," Her friend nodded slowly, trying to understand the situation. "And you're upset because he teased your house-elf agenda?"

"No," Hermione drew out the word with an exaggerated sigh. "He kept going on about how the Malfoy gardens look beautiful in the spring and that would be the perfect time for a wedding and he just–" She threw her hands up in frustration. "He kept implying that would be us one day."

Daphne stiffened. "Do you not want to get married?"

"I–Maybe–No–I don't know!" Hermione cried out. "It's too early to be talking about all this. In the muggle world, people don't usually even think about marriage until they're in their late twenties. I haven't even graduated yet; I can't even begin to process the idea of marriage."

"That's understandable, I suppose," Her friend bit her lip. "Did you tell Draco that?"

"Not in so many words." Hermione rubbed a tired hand over her face. "I might have told him I wasn't interested in being 'just Lady Malfoy' for the rest of my life."

Daphne winced. "That couldn't have gone over well."

Hermione shivered at the memory of the cold look Draco had given her in response to her thoughtless words. She had felt his anger, his cruelty, all his petty emotions over the past few years, but the flicker of hurt in his eyes had been the most horrible to experience.

She swallowed hard. "Then he asked me if it was the idea of being Lady Malfoy or the idea of marrying him that I wasn't interested in…and I said I didn't know."

"Merlin," Daphne breathed. "You might as well have just slammed his fingers into a door, that probably would've hurt less, Hermione."

"I didn't know what to say," She choked out. "I can't do this, Daphne. I'm not one of those prissy pureblood wives that sits in the background and throws luncheons and charity auctions. I don't want to bloody decorate Malfoy Manor. I don't want to sit there with all the other insipid wives and talk about organizing galas and the latest collection from Polina Mariposa–"

"Polina Markova," Daphne corrected the other witch out of pure habit.

"See! I don't even know the different designers in the wizarding world. I can't do this for the rest of my life!" Hermione snapped.

"Can I ask you a question," Daphne leaned back against her arms and fixed the other witch with a calculating stare. "Why do you think that has to be your future?"

"Because I've met the kind of pureblood socialites you all grew up with," Hermione ran a troubled hand through her hair. "I see how Narcissa Malfoy can glide through a room and charm anyone in her path. I see you smiling with Hadrian and looking perfect all the time with not a single hair out of place." She shook her head. "I can't do that. I'm not like that. I will never fit that ideal standard of an elite pureblood wife."

"Hermione," Daphne began in a soothing tone, "You don't have to change yourself to fit into some preconceived notion you have of pureblood wives."

"But that's the thing, I do," Hermione insisted. Her voice broke slightly as she whispered, "Being Draco's wife means being Lady Malfoy, and I don't know if I can do that without disappointing everyone."

"Did you explain all this to him?" Daphne arched a brow. "Your fears–while unnecessary–are still completely valid. But if you don't tell him how you feel–"

"Oh, I told him, alright," Hermione sniffed. "It didn't come out sounding very nice, and you know Draco. When he's hurt, he lashes out, and it was only a matter of seconds before he was sneering in my face, telling me I was wasting his time and if he wanted a mail-order pureblood wife he could easily go out and get one. Said there were hundreds of witches out there dying to be Lady Malfoy."

Daphne inhaled sharply, "Oh, no."

Hermione averted her gaze. "So, I told him to go find little Miss. Perfect Pureblood and then I threw him out of my room," She finished lamely. "The end."

"Merlin," Daphne rolled her eyes, "You two have got to be the stupidest, most stubborn pair of idiots I've ever met. You might not believe in love stories, but I think you're perfect for each other, Granger."

"Perfect for each other if the goal was a murder-suicide," Hermione snorted. "We'll drive each other insane, Daphne."

"Yes, but think about how much fun you'll have doing it," Daphne smiled at her innocently. "You can argue all the way to the nursing home together. How romantic."

"Your sarcasm is not appreciated," Hermione informed her.

"Then maybe you'll appreciate this," Daphne's eyes narrowed into a stern expression, "You clearly love Draco. If the only reason you're afraid of marrying him is because you're terrified of having to mold yourself into some socialite wife stereotype, then you need to be clear about that. Otherwise, you're just hurting yourself and Draco in the process. If you keep pushing him away like this, neither of you will be happy, Hermione."

Hermione chewed at her cheek, deep in thought. "I know, Daph. But even if I wanted to talk to him, he's so angry with me now. I won't even be surprised if that arse spends the next week and a half ignoring me out of sheer spite."

"Then you'll just have to get creative, I suppose. A Malfoy wife isn't a brainless heiress who throws galas and spends her life on her husband's arm. A Malfoy wife is someone who goes after what she wants, Hermione." Daphne shot her an impish grin, "And trust me, you're more than suited for the role."

The Greengrass Estate [October 12th]

Narcissa Malfoy wrapped her mink coat over her thin shoulders, pursing her lips as her stilettos narrowly avoided a spot of mud amidst the otherwise impeccably maintained Greengrass lawns. The path through the impressive maze in the gardens was practically seared into her memory, and it was only a matter of minutes before she was making her way down the familiar stone steps that lead to the sealed-off bunker underneath the Greengrass Estate.

Once she had tapped her wand against the metal door, it easily slid open with a soft groan and she walked inside the dimly lit room.

"Today must be your lucky day, Lady Potter," Narcissa spoke quietly as she set her expensive handbag onto the rickety table with a slight grimace. "Your prison cell is about to get another upgrade."

The frail, red-haired witch in the corner of the room peered up at her with a blank expression. "I-I don't understand," She whispered, though it was heard quite clearly in the empty room.

Narcissa studied her nails with disinterest, "Hadrian has certain plans for you, Lily. The least you could do is cooperate."

"Hadrian?" Lily swallowed hard, slowly moving to stand on her shaking legs. "Hadrian Riddle?"

"That's the one," Narcissa smiled tightly, gesturing for the other witch to take her arm. "Come along, now. We have quite a lot of work to do before we can present you to society."

"You're letting me go?" Lily breathed, reaching forward to grab the other witch's arm. Her green eyes shone with unshed tears as she choked out, "Where will I go?"

"Think of it as getting a longer leash," Narcissa suggested, not unkindly. She instructed her former classmate to hold on tightly, and then they were gone, swept away in a whirl of apparition. As soon as her feet had touched the ground, she dropped the other witch's arm and stepped away.

Lily Potter swayed slightly on her feet, bringing up a hand to shield her eyes from the sudden brightness all around her. It took a few seconds to adjust to the light, but eventually her surroundings came into focus, and she frowned. "W-Where are we?"

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Lady Potter," Narcissa announced, gliding across the marble floors with a certain grace Lily could never even dream of possessing.

She watched the blonde witch push through a set of double doors, and she quickly hurried to follow behind her. "Why am I in your home, Narcissa?" She questioned, trying her best to keep up with the other woman's quick strides.

They soon entered a sunroom bathed in soft white sunlight streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling French windows. Lily almost gasped as the billowing white curtains in the room rose with the soft breeze flowing in from the open balcony doors, making it seem like a picturesque scene out of a film rather than somebody's actual home.

Her eyes traveled up the walls to the high ceiling, and she nearly stumbled over her own feet as she stared up at the beautiful hand-painted mural in awe.

"Lady Potter," Narcissa's voice drew her back to reality, and Lily glanced over to see the witch waiting patiently by another woman dressed in a crisp blue suit. "We have a lot of work to do this afternoon."

"Work?" Lily raised an eyebrow as the unknown woman quickly ushered her into a plush chair set up by a light-up mirror. "What's going on?"

"This is Melania," Narcissa introduced the other woman with a fond look in her dark eyes, "She's been my personal stylist for years, and today she'll be helping to make you presentable enough for a dinner you'll be attending later tonight."

Lily bit her lip as the other witch–Melania–peered at her face closely for an uncomfortably long moment. "I don't understand," She glanced over at Narcissa with a frown. "Why are you dressing me up for a dinner?"

"You've spent far too long in that bunker, Lily," Narcissa tsked, moving aside to peruse a rack of expensive-looking dresses a stock boy wheeled over. "Hadrian thought it would be nice for you to enjoy some time above ground." She pulled a satiny set of emerald robes off the rack and held them up for her appraisal, "These would go quite nicely with your eyes, don't you agree?"

"My son hates me," Lily said flatly, wrinkling her nose as the stylist got a little too close to her ear with the hot curling wand. "This doesn't make any sense."

Narcissa hummed quietly to herself, "Perhaps you're asking too many questions, Lily. Do you think a massage would help you feel more relaxed?"

"What do you want from me?" Lily turned around in her seat. She ignored the annoyed huff from the stylist as she fixed Narcissa with a skeptical frown. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on. I deserve to know what my son has planned."

The blonde witch offered her stylist an apologetic glance, "Melania, will you give us a minute?" She waited until the other woman had sauntered out of the room before turning to face Lily with a carefully blank expression on her delicate features. "Might I remind you, Lily, you're in no place to question anything when it comes to Hadrian's decisions."

Lily swallowed hard. "I understand that–"

"No, I don't believe you do," Narcissa gave her a pitying look, though her eyes were cold and unforgiving as she continued to speak in a low voice. "You lost all right to say anything about him when you abandoned him all those years ago, Lily. What he does, who he sees, the choices he makes–you have no right to anything concerning him."

"I–" Lily felt her bottom lip quiver at the harsh tone of the other witch. "I know."

"Even if I told you all of his plans for you," Narcissa curved her lips into a slight smirk, "You would be in no position to change them."

"How long will he punish me like this?" Lily cried out, "I just wanted his forgiveness…but all I've managed to receive is his hatred."

"Forgiveness is earned, darling," The other witch pressed her lips into a thin line. "If you truly want Hadrian's forgiveness, I'm afraid you'll have to play along."

Lily stared at the fair-haired witch in the mirror. "What does he need me to do?" She asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Narcissa patted her shoulder in what could loosely be classified as a comforting manner. "Your other son…Alexander, he seems to have gone into hiding at the beginning of the summer. But that simply won't do if Hadrian wishes to secure his grasp of power over the wizarding world," She waved her hand dismissively, "There aren't many things that could force your son out of hiding, since he's been rather careful avoiding our soldiers thus far. Even his own father hasn't been able to find him," Narcissa paused, and a calculating glint came into her eyes as she whispered, "Now his mother on the other hand…"

Lily inhaled sharply. "But Alexander thinks I'm dead. He wouldn't fall for such a…" She trailed off abruptly, apparently realizing that her other son would indeed take the bait. She shook her head, "Look, I refuse to be used as a trap to draw my own son out of hiding–"

Narcissa smiled, flashing her perfectly white teeth. "Why, Lily, I certainly hope you're not entertaining the idea that you even have a choice in the matter. The walls of Malfoy Manor might seem much nicer than the cold cells in Azkaban, but make no mistake. You're still a prisoner, even if Hadrian decides to put you behind golden bars instead of metal ones.