It wasn't hard to arrange a day away from the Manor after the way that Hermione had cooperated with their Daily Prophet interview, and her completion of the translation of the Tales of Beedle the Bard. For some reason, the Death Eaters thought that she was just happily fulfilling her duties as wife of a Pureblood from one of the Sacred twenty-eight families. Much to Hermione's surprise, after the article was released, she actually received numerous invitations to tea with other pureblood wives.

She happily declined them all.

She and Rabastan had made plans to visit a small uninhabited island not far from his ancestral home shortly before Yule, before having to return home for some kind of Death Eater Yule party. Really it was just an annual Yule party that the Malfoys held, but it still didn't make Hermione want to go to it.

Plus Narcissa had been absolutely insufferable about the dress she would wear.

Still, they had a horcrux to destroy first — before she could even dream about strangling Narcissa with the stockings she'd be forced to wear. The morning of their little excursion, Rabastan and Hermione ate breakfast alone together in their room. Rabastan didn't say much and was visibly concerned, which surprised Hermione. She would do anything to defeat Voldemort, even if that meant sacrificing herself.

Rabastan apparated them both to the study in the Lestrange family home, and pulled out the Cup, a determined look on his face. "Ready to do this?" he asked her.

Hermione took a deep breath before nodding and taking his hand once again. He apparated them over to the uninhabited island. She immediately began to shiver from the cold ocean air. Rabastan gave her a small smile before casting a warming charm for her. She was touched by his thoughtfulness.

He set the Cup on the sandy ground, his wand trained on it, as though it might come to life of its own accord. "Now, I have never killed a horcrux before, so we must remain vigilant. It will likely fight back — it's alive, and it will literally fight for it's life," he explained, even though he was sure that she already knew this. "In case the fiendfyre gets out of control...well, you know where to apparate back to."

"Is that why you chose an island?" Hermione asked him. She felt a shiver race up her spine, feeling the horcruxes dark energy caressing her in an unwanted embrace.

"Yes," Rabastan said simply. He knew that they could hopefully get away unharmed. Hermione had never actually cast the curse before, so he wasn't sure if she'd be prepared to control it. The flames were seductive, enticing, and difficult to predict. "Well, I suppose I will start then," he said, rubbing a hand over his face, not wanting this responsibility, but knowing that he needed to do it. "Fiendfyre," he whispered, rotating his wand, until a snake of flame came from the end of his wand.

As soon as the flames hit the horcrux, the Cup let off billows of black smoke. It only took Hermione a moment to realize that it was taking shape, a form of a person. She didn't recognize the man, but she thought he looked similar to Rodolphus. Once he began speaking, though, she realized it was Rabastan's father.

"Failure of a wizard, failure of our house!" The false image growled, leaving Rabastan surprised and confused. "I raised you better than this, Rabastan! Lead astray by a Mudblood and her cunt. You are not worthy of carrying our family name."

"Don't listen to it, Rabastan. It is just trying to get in your head!" Hermione shouted, her voice not carrying very far over the whir of the fire.

"She's using you, Rabastan. Our family will die with you and it will be all your fault."

Hermione watched horrified as Rabastan's wand arm dropped to his side, the curse's power dwindling by the second.

"How dare you betray your heritage!"

"No! Fiendfyre!" Hermione pointed her own wand at the Cup, her flames taking the shape of a great phoenix. The black smoke continued to billow, larger, larger, until she realized it was changing forms. Instead of Rabastan's father, she was seeing Harry and Ron. She closed her eyes, but was forced to reopen them, when she felt the power of the fiendfyre curse getting away from her. She had to focus, she had to concentrate.

"How could you betray us like this, Hermione?" Harry asked her, disappointed. "I trusted you! And now, you are just helping Voldemort. You couldn't stand not knowing things, so you had to give him that translation."

"You bitch! I loved you!" Ron spat at her. Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes, and her knees buckled beneath her. "I guess I was never good enough for you, was I? You had to go for another wizard. Do you think he could ever love you, Hermione? He's a Death Eater. You are delusional if you think he's changed."

Just as Hermione was about to break the curse, Rabastan grabbed for her empty hand, holding it tightly, bringing her back to reality and solid ground. These imitations were not Harry and Ron. They would understand why she did what she did.

"Fiendfyre!" With the added strength of Rabastan's curse, they were able to quickly kill the horcrux. It melted away into black ashes, before being carried off in the wind.

Dropping her wand to the ground, Hermione immediately threw her arms around Rabastan, crying in earnest now. He seemed confused at first, before tightly wrapping his own arms around her, rubbing soothing circles on her back. Feeling her shiver against him, Rabastan decided that it was time to go home. He bent over to retrieve her wand, before hugging her again, apparating them back to his ancestral home.

He called for Maurice, his family's House Elf, to prepare them tea and then bring it to the library. He safely deposited Hermione onto the couch, and got to work lighting the fire in the fireplace, happy to gather his thoughts for a moment.

He heard Hermione's sobs dry to sniffles, followed by the pop of elf magic, and the clinking of fine china. He turned around and found her pouring tea into two cups, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. When she finally looked up at him, he felt his breath leave him. She looked so upset and distraught. He wanted nothing more than to take away her pain.

Rabastan sat down on the couch next to her, happily taking the cup of tea from her, feeling the warmth slide down his throat and into his belly, warming him from the inside out. "That was bloody awful," he finally said, letting his eyes flicker to her face.

Hermione just nodded, before biting her lip. "You know I don't think you are a failure to our family," she said quietly.

Her statement warmed him better than any tea could. She'd said our family, not your family. Did this mean that she accepted him? His name? What did it mean for their relationship, which was fledgling and weak in its strength? He knew that they'd been forced to marry and it wasn't the way that non-purebloods got together, but he found himself thinking that being married to her wasn't particularly bad. In fact, he enjoyed the way that she challenged him and fought him — made him change his perceptions.

Rabastan understood that the horcrux had been preying on their insecurities and that their biggest fears had been exposed to one another. Her's had been that her friends wouldn't understand her actions, and that he, Rabastan Lestrange, couldn't possibly love her. He wanted to tell her that it was possible, that he could love her, but he found the word sticking in his throat. "You know that your friends will understand," he offered instead, wishing that he could be sure. "They will learn that you helped."

Hermione sucked in a deep breath and nodded. "I really hope so." Her cinnamon brown eyes locked with his and he felt like she was boring into his very soul.

"I have to admit, red does suit you," Narcissa told Hermione, handing her a glass of champagne. Narcissa had selected a red backless gown for Hermione to wear to the Malfoy's annual Yule Ball. She did like that it was a nod to her Gryffindor roots, but it didn't make up for the marathon dress up session they'd had earlier that day. Or the uncomfortable undergarments she'd been made to wear. "You look the picture of Yule."

"Thank you, Narcissa," she told the older witch, with a half-smile, honestly all she could muster being forced to socialize with these people. She knew all of them couldn't stand her, but tolerated her for the Lestranges' sake.

Bellatrix was already drunk when Hermione entered the ballroom, and taking one look at Hermione's perfectly coiffed appearance, had announced to everyone that the kitten had been declawed. Hermione longed to shove her wand against Bellatrix's throat, but refrained, knowing that it would be a suicide mission.

Rodolphus had then taken her for a turn around the room, commenting on her grace and ability at dancing. She couldn't help herself from rolling her eyes, as though only purebloods had any culture. He then proceeded to ask her about when she was going to have a child, even going so far as to suggest certain positions that were said to aid in conception. "Why would I take advice from you, when it clearly didn't work with you and Bellatrix?" she'd asked him, nostrils flaring. He left her, angrier than she'd ever seen him, after that.

She'd started the night on the arm of her husband. Even since they'd destroyed the horcrux together, they had a much better understanding of one another. After all, they'd seen each other's deepest fears, insecurities. It was impossible not to be closer to him after that. And she couldn't shake the way that he'd taken such good care of her afterwards. She was looking forward to spending the Christmas holidays with him at his home.

Still, he eventually was roped into a conversation with Antonin Dolohov, who had viciously cursed her when she was in Fifth Year and had roaming eyes now. Her skin would crawl, the way he looked her up and down. Although she was certain Rabastan noticed, she knew that he couldn't call out the other man without seeming suspicious.

Instead, she'd made her way to Narcissa, who she knew was harmless, but a bit annoying. Hermione still knew that Narcissa was desperately lonely, especially being married to a man like Lucius Malfoy, so she felt a little bit badly about it. She accepted the compliment about the dress and tried to move the conversation to a topic that she knew Narcissa would feel something about. "When must Millie marry Goyle?" she questioned.

Narcissa didn't seem surprised that she knew about Millie's marriage contract. "After she's graduated. I must say I am surprised that you have taken such an interest in marriage contracts, after you fought against yours so fiercely," Narcissa answered, her lips quirked up in surprise.

"I didn't have a contract. I was kidnapped and forced to marry," Hermione said tersely. "And, like you, I understand that not all marriages are harmonious and agreeable for both parties." Narcissa stiffened at her side, but didn't say anything. "I just want to make sure that my friend Millie has the best chance at happiness."

"And you think that Millie would be unhappy with Goyle?" Narcissa asked, clearly not having given the wedding of a Bulstrode much thought.

Hermione pursed her lips together. "I think that she would be unhappy with this Goyle. She loves Greg, from my year, and if I'm honest, they made quite the match when they attended Hogsmeade together last year."

Narcissa was surprised. "She should be happy to honor his family name then." Her voice was quiet, repeating a lie that she must have heard her mother say to her when she was a teenager. "Once she has children, they will be her life, and give her all the happiness she could want."

Hermione frowned, shaking her head. "Purebloods are so antiquated sometimes. Don't you know that conception — something purebloods obviously have issues with if the numbers of only children in my year are any indication — is much easier if the two people attempting it actually like each other?"

Narcissa's cheeks were pink at the mention of conception in such a public place. "Why are you sharing this with me?" she asked, confused by the younger girl's plans.

"Well, nothing I say to the Goyles or the Bulstrodes will change their minds about Millie's betrothal. I may be a Lestrange now, but I am still just a Muggleborn girl," Hermione said, looking at Narcissa. "But a Malfoy's word carries much more weight. After all, your family is the epitome of pureblood society. I just want to give Millie a chance at happiness."

Narcissa preened at her words, complimenting her family. But then she was reminded of the fact that a young girl could get the chance at happiness that Narcissa never had. She remembered the cold welcome she'd received at Malfoy Manor when she was a new bride, barely seeing Lucius for more than a few days a month. She wouldn't wish that kind of life on any girl. Narcissa swallowed thickly, pushing her emotions aside. "I will think on it," she promised Hermione.

The next morning, Hermione met Draco and Millie in the library, as they waited to say goodbye to her before she left for her little holiday with Rabastan. She wasn't expecting the reception that she'd received. Millie had rushed over to her, squealing, as she wrapped Hermione up in a hug, actually picking her up off the ground, spinning her around in circles. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"Merlin, could you keep it down? I've a bleeding headache," Malfoy said, from where he was sprawled out on the couch.

Millie set Hermione down, who was slightly dizzy from her treatment, and wholly confused. "Oh, I could just kiss you Granger," Millie told her, with a huge smile on her face.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, still unsure of what she could have done to warrant such a reaction from the normally reserved girl.

"Narcissa talked to father and the Goyles, and they have agreed to change the betrothal contract," Millie said, eyeing Hermione with awe. "She said it was gauche to have the father remarry, when he had an of age son without a contract and suggested that we'd be better paired, given our ages."

"That's wonderful, Millie," Hermione said, a genuine smile on her face. She was glad that her friend was going to get her chance at happiness. "You'll invite me to the wedding?" Hermione asked, suddenly feeling very timid with her new standing in wizarding society.

"Of course I will! It's all because of you that it's even happening," Millie told her, with a sly smirk on her face. "Plus, I want to see Pansy's eyes pop out of her head when she sees you waltz in, perfect bride to such an ancient and noble house as Lestrange."

Hermione frowned at that, thinking over everything. She hated being thought of as somehow better or cleansed just because Rabastan had married her. Luckily, Draco redirected the conversation. "Okay, okay, Millie and Greg sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage. We get it! Can we move onto another topic of conversation?"

Millie and Hermione took their places on the couch. "He's just upset because his father had him betrothed to Astoria Greengrass, and now she won't stop stalking him," Millie revealed with a mischievous smile on her face.

"Or it's because I have a bloody hangover," Malfoy said with a snarl. "Besides, Mrs. Lestrange here doesn't have much time before her lover whisks her off to Merlin knows where, and we have other things we need to discuss."

Hermione smiled at Malfoy, who was still incredibly uncomfortable with any discussion of her sex life or lack there off. "Alright, Draco. What is it that you wanted to talk about?" she asked.

"I remember where I saw it finally," he said, his stormy gray eyes boring into her own. "And we found it again. It was in the Come and Go Room," he revealed, proud of his accomplishment. "I saw it last year when I was repairing the vanishing cabinet."

Millie frowned. "Yes, I've seen it, too. It's an awful thing isn't it? Just being near it makes my skin crawl, and it always seems to...whisper things to you. Awful things." The girl shuddered from the memory of the cursed tiara.

Hermione was quiet for a while, biting her lower lip, concerned. Soon Draco couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "Well? What should we do with it now that it's been found?" he asked.

Hermione instinctively knew that she could trust them, especially now that she'd destroyed one with Rabastan. They wanted out of this new world order. "You have to destroy it." The serious tone of her voice was stifling in the drafty library. "But you won't be able to use conventional methods...basilisk venom if you can find some — maybe if you could get back into the Chamber of Secrets? — or...fiendfyre."

Draco's eyes were wide at her confession, spoken like someone who knew. "Alright Granger, consider it done," he said with confidence.

"But Draco, it will fight back. And if you thought that the whispers were awful before...you can't imagine the kind of things it will say when it's dying. It literally finds your deepest fears and insecurities," Hermione told him, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. "So please be careful. It's literally fighting for it's life, because it contains a little bit of...soul," she explained in a hushed whisper.

None of the three teenagers needed anyone to say whose bit of soul it was.