A/N: Felt like the last chapter was a complete underachiever, so I hope this one is even the tiniest bit better. Thank you for all your reviews, they're so kind. Enjoy.

Hermione opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. The court room in the Ministry of Magic was all too familiar to her. This time however, she was looking at it in a new perspective. Letting Malfoy lead her on to their seats, on the right side of Riddle's chair, she looked down at grim and dingy chair filled with chains that would soon hold a captive.

Pansy Parkinson appeared so expeditiously in front of her, Hermione almost swore she had flown. The woman's green eyes glistened as she forced a fake smile and looked at Hermione's left hand. The ring seem to shine in her eyes. Pansy looked up suddenly and stared at both Hermione and Draco.

"I've just heard the news, yesterday." she aforesaid, quite contradicted. "Congratulations, you're quite lucky, Our Lord has been so...understanding," she dragged her eyes back to Hermione, who only gazed.

"Thank you, we're quite happy," Draco said putting an arm around Hermione's shoulders, making Pansy tear her eyes away from the girl and look at him in a astonishingly virulent look. She nodded only and then left to take her seat in the audience. Hermione's face writhed in confusion for only a moment, then she gazed at Draco.

"They don't know, do they? Not one of them knows this is contrived?" her voice was almost a dream-like state. Draco brushed a few strands of hair from his face and grinned at someone who had just passed by and nodded a hello

"It's on a need-to-know basis. Only people taking part of the plan, and our future guards, who were standing in the throne room, know." Malfoy explained in a susurration. Hermione forced a smile for a passer by.

"Lovely," she said. The court room suddenly quieted and a hooded figure strode in through the door. Tom Riddle removed his cloak and sat on the highest chair. He smiled brightly at the Death Eaters who arched to him. Then he took Hermione's hand in his and smiled.

"I trust, your trip was pleasing, my dear?" Hermione shivered. It was more terrifying seeing the source of all evil treating her like his daughter than having him throw constant curses at her.

"Quite," was the only response Hermione managed to make. Riddle let go of her hand and turned to face the crowd and the chair of the incriminated. Hermione felt Malfoy grab hold of her hand and run his thumb past it in an assuasive manner.

She was quite aware that Malfoy was demonstrating their love for the others, however she also had the formidable perception that he was trying to decompress her and make her placid. Either way she was appreciative of someone's hand to hold, no matter whose it was.

The door to their right opened and Death Eaters walked in dragging a pillaged man, whom looked like had been consumed alive. He was decrepit and cadaverous, pallid, with drawn-out dark hair that made him looked deranged. A peculiar tattoo conveyed a circular symbol with miss-matched triangles up his cheek and Hermione wondered where in the world she had ended up.

It took no more than a few seconds to have the man bound up in the chair, he didn't budge much, Hermione guessed he knew all to well that the effort would be futile. The man in the dark hair looked up into her eyes, she could see that in his, nothing more than hatred flowed. He spat in her direction and it took no more than this occurrence for a cruciatus curse to be put upon him for a few seconds.

Hermione bit away her gasp. Had the Death Eaters really just tortured someone who had tried to spit on her? Tortured someone among their ranks, because of a muggle born like her? She was at a loss for words, it was more than the order had definitely done for her. The voice that came next brushed away her thoughts.

"Gregory Hallow, you are on trial for the attempted murder of Hermione Granger," Riddle said in a joking hiss, "how do you plead?" A unison chortle filled the room. Everyone was aware, that this was a mere role play game and that it wouldn't really matter, not in the end.

Hermione swallowed hard, when had he tried to kill her? Had she really not noticed? She had felt like the last few months had been so nonbelligerent. Maybe she had been fallacious. She looked at Draco who's face was once again frozen of any kind of emotion, she squeezed his hand. The soft touch broke his spell and pulled his eyes towards her. Hermione's face showed befuddlement, Draco's eyes saddened a bit.

He explained swiftly that last week there had been a break-in at the Manor, during the night. The suspect had rapidly traveled to Hermione's room with the intention of killing her. Fortunately, that night Hermione had fallen asleep in the library during her search for a curse-breaking spell. The suspect dumbfounded continued on his search for Hermione around the manor and was intercepted and arrested by the guards before Hermione had even awoken.

Chills rushed up Hermione's spine leaving goosebumps on her flesh. It was bad enough knowing she had almost been killed and never even knew, she didn't exactly know how to deal with the fact that Death Eaters had saved her life.

She felt Draco give her a supporting squeeze on the hand and turned around only in time to hear the very man who had tried to take her life away shriek in choler how he refused to live in a world that would soon be ruled by a mudblood.

Hermione flinched at the word but Voldemort laughed. "As you wish," he muttered with a guileful smile on his face. It was with these last words that Tom Riddle lifted his wand and whispered in a strangely soothing voice "Avada Kedavra."

There was a flash of green light and then only a dead weight body on the chair. A black silk blanket covered the body as it was levitated and carried through the air. The atmosphere darkened considerably. Hermione gulped, it was an eye for an attempted eye, it seemed.

–

It was on that night that Hermione had learned her grandness at the manor. Whether she had been denying it, or just chose not to see it, was irrelevant now. For the truth was, if they had tortured a man for trying to spit on her and killed him for wanting her dead, then she had to be of the utmost importance. After all, you didn't rip your soul into another piece, and you sure didn't waste time and energy (something Hermione had realized was of value with these people) on someone who was worthless.

Hermione sat on the drawn-out dinner table with Draco on her right side. She had grown habitual to this arrangement as it would repeat itself every night. She and Draco would sit on the left side of the table facing the oak doors of the dining room, Tom Riddle would sit at the head of the table. Tonight however, they were still unaccompanied. Hermione had once felt concerned that when Riddle wasn't near them, he was out doing direful Stygian things. This knowledge no longer bothered her anymore. This life had become her own, she had grown so accustomed to it, she didn't remember anything before it.

Hermione had begun to learn that she could use her importance for some good around the manor. She tried out her theory with small things at first. Getting Diana a new dress. When her wishes were complied with she moved on to getting the girl actual meals, so that she didn't have to share hers with the famished girl.

It wasn't long before Diana had her own room, with every relish a twelve-year-old girl would love, until she had books and all the Herbology tools she wished for. Never, in her twelve-years of life, had Diana had so much to be grateful for. Soon people started to treat her well, almost as if they had forgotten she was a mere muggle-born that had been sacrificed at war.

It was this fact that Malfoy was currently remarking with her at supper.

"I just don't understand it," he chortled. "You can have anything you want, you know you can. Have anyone do anything for you. But you've only transformed the young girl's life, you haven't improved yours in the slightest." Hermione knew Draco always chose his words wisely when referring to Diana as not to offend her.

Hermione sighed. "I don't need to," she said, "This is the best I've lived in years. She needs it more than I do," Malfoy was about to respond when the oak doors of the dining room opened and Tom Riddle walked in. He looked exhausted, Hermione couldn't withdraw her eyes from the lines that covered his face.

"My Lord," she said, it had become a custom to call him this, in the last few weeks, Riddle had been training her, making her feel powerful. Giving her guidance, sneaking into her mind when she allowed him to and extinguishing her worries. He had been almost a father to her, when she missed her own so much.

Voldemort looked up at her with a anemic smile. "Don't worry my dear, everything is well." he said. "I merely believe that, now that you have been here for quite a few months, that it is time that we announce your engagement to the rest of the wizarding world. I have been out making all these preparations these last two months. Changing laws that needed changing, finding loop-holes in my own logic, but now we are ready."

Hermione felt Draco's body tense near hers. It was true that neither of them was prompt for such a public display. The most they had come in contact with was that courtroom, where everyone was more fixed on the death of the inmate than on her relationship with Malfoy.

"There should probably be a ball," Voldemort stated, his voice stressing his grave disfavor of the idea. "The women can gossip and the men...can do what ever the hell they feel like," he continued. The soon-to-be-wed couple nodded only. There were no words that would allow either of them to say anything minimally clever.

–

Mr. Draco Malfoy and Miss Hermione Granger

Are proud to announce their engagement!

A Commemorate Ball shall be celebrated on 24th of December

Join us on such a grand occasion.

We await your owl no later than the 10th of December.

Dark gloves crumpled up the invitation that they held. The names made him sick, the invitation even more so. How could they ever, how would the Dark Lord even allow such a thing? The man behind the gloves sighed, his appearance had changed into an unrecognizable being since anyone had really ever seen him again.

He stared at his nude muscular body in the mirror, each piece of his body had been well crafted and prepared for the night that would soon arrive. He ran a hand through his body, every inch was well toned and sculpted, like a Greek statue. He smiled. His hair was pail white and his irises dark with tiny red circles around them, effects of having been closed up in hiding for so long.

But he had fought, had grown, had made himself, what he was today. He had prepared, conserved energy for all the right exercises, and he had planned. Planned and waited, and now his plan was slowly putting itself into action.

He turned on the shower, letting the hot vapor encircle the room and himself, fogging up the mirror he had been staring at just a few moments ago. The man than stepped into the steaming shower, letting the burning water strip away any dirt and sins from his flesh.

It had been years since he had seen the people he was anxiously waiting to meet. He would show them, he would show them how well he could take them down. They would pay for their sins. How he despised everyone of them. They who paraded around as such grand people, they who cursed the world with their magic and called themselves elite, because others could not fight. They who had left the poor and defenseless to starve, that had begun the Social Darwinism that had made the society collapse in front of them. Those who ate in their beautiful dining tables and had engagement balls while he sat in this stone room for years, preparing.

They, who called themselves powerful, did not understand God and what true power was. They would soon burn in hell for their sins, they would realize that Satan had burdened them with these gifts they so happily assumed as natural. Maybe God would find mercy for those who showed penitence in their waking hour. Those who would not deny their father when their meeting moment arrived.

The man stared at the mirror once more, wiping away the fog. His pale milky skin color was enough to send chills up anyone's spine. His eyes traveled from his bleached hair to the pale contorted face of vengeance that had become his natural expression. He wondered lower through his body, admiring his carved chest and his bulging manhood that had been cleansed and reborn when he had found God. His legs were muscled and strong, he smiled at his pure perfection. He was ready, and soon the moment would be as well.

Whoever acknowledges me before others, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven. But whoever disowns me before others, I will disown before my Father in heaven

–

Hermione stared at her figure in the mirror, the dress she had to admit was beautiful. Made of a cream colored beige fabric it flowed softly down towards he feet. It had only one strap in her right shoulder and the small and almost unnoticeable sparkling diamonds that covered her chest gave it a touch of innocent feminism. She admitted that she loved the dress, hated the pins poking into her skin as she got fitted.

"Ouch," she grumbled as her tailor struggled to mark her dress. Neither of them had much patience for each other anymore, Hermione hated standing still and the tailor hated impossible people. It was a relief for both then, when the last pin was in place and the dress was magically removed from Hermione. She quickly dressed herself once more as the seamstress took down all the measurements she had so carefully picked up so that she could tailor the dress that night.

Hermione invited Diana to stand on the small stool where she had just stood a few minutes ago. The seamstress was surprised at this move but complied, non the less, with the mistresses wishes and took some measurements. Diana's eyes went round as she saw Hermione pull out a large box and opening it in front of her. Inside there was a small dress, identical in color to Hermione's, it bulged down to the knees, had two large shoulder straps, and bright red ribbon to tie around the waist.

Diana had never been more delighted to try something on in her life, for having been born in the year the war had started, she had never seen such a beautiful thing, let alone own it. The tailor was much happier with Diana's fitting, the young girl stood still for a good hour as she placed the pins on the dress and took down every measurement to be changed.

Hermione grinned in delight as she saw that her small surprise had been effective in making Diana's day. When Diana had removed the dress, with a tang of regret, she quickly dressed herself in one of her new winter clothes that had also been a gift from Hermione.

The young girl raced up to the now twenty-nine-year-old and hugged her like she had never hugged anyone before. Neither aware that they were being watched by a blond who stood by the door. Draco Malfoy gulped slightly.

There was something inside him that was not right, he was well aware of the fact that if any happiness had reached the manor in the last few months, Hermione was the reason. She brightened the room whenever she walked in, her smile was contagious and her giving manner made her more than likeable. Draco had even found himself wanting to grab her arm and pull her closer to him, just to feel her yielding warmth.

He shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. There was definitely something very wrong inside him. He was spotted by Hermione whom he could have sworn almost grinned at him. His stomach turned a bit and he frowned and grumbled to himself. Then looking back up to Hermione he realized she had already looked away and was merrily chatting away with the young girl about the ball.

Malfoy turned around and headed toward his study. Once he had shut himself inside it, he almost felt safe to think the unsanitary thoughts that occurred to him every time he saw Hermione. She had grown so accustomed to his presence, that it seemed she had thrown away all inhibitions. She often changed clothes in front of him. Every time this would happen, Malfoy would force himself not to look, but her figure called his eyes and it was no use, a pleasurable ache filled his system and groin, tearing his eyes away from her once more.

Malfoy paced around the study. Could he be developing feelings for the woman he was going to marry in a few months time? He laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of that thought and the pure irony. Pouring himself a whiskey and sitting on his couch he sighed. He made the decision to not worry about it. It seemed like they had an eternity to figure out this problem, at this moment he would just enjoy his whiskey.