They landed on the front lawn of Malfoy Manor with so much force Hermione stumbled forward and fell. She landed on her hands and knees and let out a sharp, "Fuck," as her palms scraped along small rocks hiding in the grass. Draco managed to catch himself as he staggered but he was almost as graceless as she was.

"Not your best work," she said as she stood up. One of the bits of gravel was still pressed into her skin and she picked it out with a grimace. She'd broken skin. It hurt now and would probably hurt for a few days. She could already feel the throb of blood behind the scrape.

"Sorry," he said. "I was a little distracted."

She let out a hollow laugh. Distracted was one way to put it. Some kind of magical attack going on, Aurors around, and the clock ticking on their disguises. She hadn't been in the best mental place herself. Still wasn't if she was being honest. "What do you think happened."

"Some crazy?" he said. She could tell he didn't care. What was one more lunatic shooting up the place when you lived with the threat of violence and torture every day? "Can we get out of these clothes? I don't know what these trousers are made out of, but I'm pretty sure it's giving me a rash."

"Poor baby," she said. "Has to wear cheap fabric." She was eager to get out of hers too, though. Just the feeling of pretending to be another person itched at her soul. Having to stand there and not react as people talked about her made her want to take a long, hot shower.

She hooked an arm through Draco's and smiled at him. Of all the things she had expected in this adventure, that he would become the safe place hadn't crossed her mind.

He frowned at her palm. "Your poor hand," he said. "I think I have a potion for that."

"It'll be fine," she said. She rolled her eyes. As if a little skinned palm meant anything anymore. As pain went, this was trivial. She was still warmed by his concern and that warmth made her lean a little more closely against him as they made their way back across the lawns in the dark and into the Manor. Back into their home.

She'd go visit Arabella in the morning. She had to know what had happened. She could find some pretext to go out. Shopping, maybe. Malfoy women were supposed to look polished and that seemed like the perfect excuse.

The only problem was that in the morning, Narcissa wanted to go with her.

"I'm sorry, what?" Hermione asked. Her hand was halfway to the marmalade jar when Narcissa said smoothly that shopping sounded wonderful and there was a little jewellery shop she'd been eager to take a look at.

"Surely you don't mind if I come with you," Narcissa said. She raised a brow in a gesture so much like Draco's Hermione had the brief thought that this family stamped their genes down with frightening determination. Any child she and Draco might have would be sure to raise her brows in the exact same way. And she'd probably find herself cornered just as neatly.

"Of course, I don't," she said. She had no choice. It was the only option even if the very last thing she wanted was to be seen publicly chummy with Narcissa Malfoy. People already hated her. Whatever doubts they might have – whatever pity they might feel for her – would be gone if she spent the day arm in arm with the wife of a known Death Eater.

Any hope she might have had Narcissa had any intention of being discreet vanished within ten minutes of apparating to Diagon Alley. She strode through the streets with her nose so high in the air Hermione was surprised she didn't trip. She sniffed at anyone she considered a lesser order. She refused to go into a coffee shop because, "The service is poor and the hygiene is worse. There's no reason for a magical establishment to not be immaculate. It isn't as if we have to physically scrub things to get them clean the way Muggles do."

She said Muggles the way some people said, "Mudbloods." Hermione cringed at the tone, and cringed even more because it wasn't as if her mother-in-law tried to keep her voice down. If anything, she projected it into the air so everyone on the block would hear.

"Now," she said, physically dragging Hermione into a jewellery shop. "This is the sort of place a woman of quality shops."

The door shut behind them and Hermione looked around. The shop had dark shades over the windows so no one could see in. The carpeting was thick, the light dim, the glass cases of pretty things immaculate, and the silence heavy. "Mrs. Malfoy," a woman behind the counter said. "Malfoys. What a pleasure it is to see you."

Narcissa did the unthinkable and took the hands of a woman she had to consider beneath her – a mere shop owner – and leaned over to kiss first one cheek than the other. "It's been too long," she said.

"Indeed."

Narcissa turned to Hermione. "I usually spend several hours making my selections," she said.

Hermione braced herself for the dullest morning she could imagine when the jeweler said, "And I always lock the store for my best customers. It's quite expected."

When Hermione didn't visibly react, Narcissa added, "Which means if you need to go visit someone – an artist, perhaps, or an escaped felon – you have a window of time no one will question."

"Why would I visit an escaped felon?" Hermione asked a bit weakly.

"No reason," Narcissa said. She cast a quick tempus charm and glanced at it. "If you could return by noon I would appreciate it. We have reservations at the new Italian restaurant."

"The perfect place to show off this, perhaps," said the shop owner. She pulled a hair clip from her cabinet and Hermione gasped. The thing was encrusted with diamonds and sparkled even in the low light.

"Are those real?" she asked.

Narcissa gave her a look of utter disgust.

"Right," Hermione said. Of course they were. "I'll be back by noon."

"I thought you said she was clever," she heard the jeweler say as she apparated away, landing on Arabella Figg's lawn. With the irritation of that little comment still burning in her ears she strode across the grass and raised a hand to knock.

Arabella opened the door, looked around nervously, and stepped off to the side so she could slide in. The house, as usual, smelled of cat. Hermione supposed there was a limit to how many a person could have before that became inevitable. One of them, a little grey puss, regarded her before trotting away with a disdainful twitch of her tail.

"Don't mind her." Percy pulled her into a hug. "She's been in a mood since I took her dead mouse away."

"Let me get you something," Arabella said.

"It's fine," Hermione said. She stepped back and studied Percy. Rage still churned in the depths of his eyes but he'd become a bit more contained. His shoulders didn't twitch with the urge to strike out. His hands didn't tremble. Even his tattoos seemed calm. "You look good," she said.

"Undermining authority turns out to be good for high blood pressure," he said. He gestured to a chair and, afraid to brush off the cat hair, Hermione sat down. She hoped she wouldn't stand up with her arse covered in grey fuzz. "Have you seen the paper?"

When she shook her head, Percy pulled a copy of the morning's Prophet off a pile and handed it to her. "You'd better read," he said.

Pureblood Family Man Has Breakdown, Curses Nine

She looked up. It was what she had come for, really, but now that she had it she didn't want to read the article. She could predict how it would go. It was so sad. Tragic. He was ill. He needed help. If it had been her the headline would have started Mudblood Terrorist. Percy took it back from her and summed it up grimly. "Wasn't a Death Eater but had a house filled with Death Eater stuff."

"Ugh." There didn't seem anything more articulate to say about that. Even Lucius Malfoy had the sense to know his former colleagues were not admirable.

"Exactly," Percy said. "Cursed a bunch of Muggles while ranting about blood purity."

"Off his head," she said.

"You'd have to be." Arabella Figg emerged from the kitchen and set a tray down on top of the pile of newspapers. It teetered a bit before settling down. Hermione took the cup of tea she was offered but managed to wave off the biscuits. This reminded her rather unpleasantly of school days spent with Hagrid trying to pretend she didn't hate his cooking.

"Have to be nuts?" Percy asked. When Arabella nodded looked back down at the paper. "I'm sure he is, but this dwells a lot on his family. He's a distant cousin of the Blacks."

"See," said Arabella. "Crazy."

"He's been out of work," said Percy. "Under strain. He'd had an affair with a Muggle girl and she ended it."

"Smart," said Hermione. "She knew something was up."

"There's just a whole lot of excuses," Percy said. He set the paper back down. "But the Ministry is playing into our hands so I'll make hay out of it."

"How so?"

"They put the whole area on lockdown," Percy said. "People were not happy."

"Can't say I'm surprised," Hermione said.

"The grumbling at the opening," Arabella said. "We ran out of wine."

Hermione had to smother a grin at that. Percy saw her mouth twitch anyway and he smiled at her in return. "I heard all about it," he said. "In detail."

"It all sold," Arabella said. She took a smug sip of her tea. "I had no idea revolution could be so profitable."

"Percy?" Hermione asked. "I have to be back by lunch. Narcissa is showing me off at some fancy restaurant."

"Oh, the pain of being forced to eat good food," he said, but his eyes crinkled in a way she knew meant he was amused rather than resentful. He leaned forward a bit in his seat. "We'll be playing it up," he said. "In the papers, and I've got about a dozen people recruited to go around to pubs and spew the lines. How important it is for law and order. Can't go about complaining about rights. Need the Aurors to come down hard on people."

"And also, a bit about how he can't really be blamed," Arabella said. "Good man, driven round the bend by stress. That'll work out well for us long term"

"It's all so gross." Hermione understood the logic. Shove it down people's throats until they choked. The Ministry was good. Good, good, good, good, good. The eroding of freedoms was necessary. Every lie they told you was for your own benefit, and, hey, you were a sucker for believing it in the first place. It still all left a sour taste in her mouth. "I wish we could just -."

"Tried that," Percy said. "Being heroes didn't work. Where's Harry now, the champion of the people?"

"In France," Hermione admitted grudgingly.

"And how long did it take people to turn on you?"

"Not long," she said. "Though I look bad."

"First, we push oppression is good until people are on the verge of snapping," said Percy. "Then we expose all the corruption."

"And you think it will work?" Hermione asked.

"We'll make you loved by the masses yet," he said. "Bravely smuggling information out from behind enemy lines."

"A peaceful march in the streets," Arabella said. "All those art boys can't wait to organize it."

"And then our coup," Percy said. His eyes glittered. "If you still think you can point him at the right spot."

Hermione looked down at her hands. They shook a little. She was afraid sometimes that she wouldn't have the courage to go through with it. It had been easier to be brave when she'd been ignorant of how much pain magic could cause. "I do," she said. "Next big party at the Malfoy's, I'll bait the trap. He'll be furious because I'm the god-killer's mouthpiece or whatever the hell it is he calls me."

"Try not to die," Percy said.

She mustered a weak smile. "Always a good goal," she said.

Percy stood up and she stood up and there was that horrible awkward moment when it's time to leave and first no one steps toward the door and then everyone does at once. He grabbed her into another hug. "Thank you for coming by," he said.

"Have to stay in touch," she said. She knew it was irrational. It wasn't safe. It was smarter to stay with Narcissa. She hadn't had to come. Hadn't had to learn anything. Hadn't had to tell them anything. She had just needed to see a face from before and be reminded she was still herself. Not a whore who'd sold herself for safety. Not a turncoat. Still brave. Still good.

Or good enough, anyway.

"Ron's an idiot," Percy said.

"No," she said. He was just one of a very large group of people who assumed she'd become something abominable.

"He should have believed," Percy said. He kissed her forehead before stepping back. "I'm glad Malfoy has more faith in you."

"See you in the streets," she said, then apparated back to the jewellery store.

Narcissa frowned at her. "You have cat hair on your trousers," she said disapprovingly. She fastened the diamond clip in Hermione's hair and, with her hands freed, pulled out her wand and uttered a charm. In a single whoosh, Hermione's trousers were pressed, her hair curly in all the best ways, and all the cat hair was gone.

If only everything could get cleaned up as easily.