An unpleasant incessant tapping woke Hermione, and she pried her eyelids open. She had stayed up too late, laughing with Ron and picking through his letters. The whole situation seemed a lot more fun and carefree with her lawsuit looming. They were able to joke about how ridiculous the ministry was and giggle over some of the downright insane letters of proposal Ron had received. Yes, she was engaged. Yes, Ron was planning on getting engaged. It all seemed very dire. But it helped to laugh about it. So she was in a better mood than she had been in days when she crawled out of bed to shove her window open and let a lovely set of tawny owls into the room.

One carried a tiny square package, the other a letter. She stumbled through her cluttered space to fish some owl treats out of an overfull desk drawer, sending the owls on their way and closing the window before she set about finding a letter opener. The envelope was heavy, thick and perfumed of all things. Her name penned on the front in a precise unfamiliar script. Finally, out of frustration, she stuck a finger in and ripped the envelope open, careful not to rip the letter neatly folded inside. Beautiful thick cream parchment, penned by hand in the same precise letters as the envelope.

Miss Granger,

I hope this post finds you in good health and high spirits.

As my son insists that I don't impose on you, I have been forced to pen a letter. Please excuse the lack of propriety and note that this is absolutely not how I would prefer to address my possible future daughter-in-law, but my son is adamant that this is what you would prefer. Regretfully, we have not really indulged in any sort of quality personal interaction so I am doing my best to be prudent and assume that Draco probably knows you better than I. However, despite all of this, I felt I absolutely must reach out regarding the upcoming binding ceremony.

The Ministry has insisted that we adhere to all aspects of our traditional engagement rituals. Unfortunately, this includes the location. All magical Malfoy ceremonies are held in our personal sanctuary. In deference to any personal aversion you might have to the Manor, I have cut all unnecessary formalities that would require extended time on the premises. It would be my pleasure to discuss, at your leisure, a more long-term strategy to alleviate any tension you might have in our ancestral home.

I have arranged all the details and currently have the event scheduled for four o'clock tomorrow. This is designed to be a small intimate ceremony, leaving guests and witnesses for the more open marriage ceremony. That being said, you should select at least two magical stewards. These individuals will need to safeguard your person and your wand until you are officially given into Draco's keeping. The magical prestige of these individuals reflects on your status, so choose wisely.

I acknowledge entering into this bond with our family requires an act of faith on your part. In recognition of that fact, I'd like to offer a good faith token in response. I have included, in separate package, an engagement ring. It would be our great honor if you would allow Draco to use this family heirloom in lieu of a standard ring in the binding ceremony. It has been passed down for generations and it would be a personal favor to me if you consent to wear it. It is heavily infused with magical protection spells, and so I extend an invitation to have the ring examined, with care please, by an artifact expert of your choosing in order to establish confidence in our intentions.

You should also be aware that the extreme protection, fidelity, and loyalty vows used in this ceremony are very potent. The rituals are performed, for your safety, in a completely natural state without any artificial or magical adornment. In deference to the Ministry's tradition requirement, I have prepared all the items you would need to purify yourself accordingly and the traditional natural fiber attire. Brides have always come to us barefoot with unbound hair so there is no need to secure a stylist. I would recommend arriving by three o'clock to give yourself adequate time to bathe and change.

If there is anything further we can do in order to facilitate your comfort and security, do not hesitate to let me know so that I can make arrangements immediately. A portkey has been provided for you and your guests.

Yours truly,

Narcissa Malfoy

Hermione turned the envelope over, and a flat silver disk engraved with the words 'Malfoy Portkey' slid into her palm. She set it aside and turned to the box, being more careful than she had with the envelope. She felt a kick of misplaced guilt about her nervousness. On the surface, one might conclude that the Malfoys were just trying to make the best of a bad situation and that Narcissa was genuine in her offer of goodwill. Experience, however, made her think the letter was just a little too nice and that the Malfoys had a history with jewelry. She set the box squarely on her little desk and used her wand to direct an opening spell at the box. The box resisted magical manipulation, lending weight to her theory that she was right to be wary of any overture from the Malfoy clan.

Deciding to error on the side of caution, she left the box lay unopened and went about getting dressed for the day. She'd have a better plan of action after she spoke to Harry and Ron.

~ Armistice ~

In light of all that was happening, the friends decided not to go to breakfast. Instead, they imposed on the House Elves to bring them some scones to munch on while they discussed their plan of action going forward. Breakfast was pretty sacred in Gryffindor House, so the common room was completely deserted. Hermione still cast her privacy spell as an extra layer of protection, just to be on the safe side. It felt a little weird to have Ginny sitting in on a strategy meeting, but this affected her as well, and the way she and Harry were sitting so close broadcasted loud and clear that they were now operating as a team.

Much to her displeasure, the first item that needed to be discussed was Harry and Ron's insane pregnancy plan. She pulled out a folder with her lists from her bag and swallowed down her distaste. This might be the stupidest plan in the history of plans, but Harry was her friend, and she would never deny him her help. Even if this latest crazy scheme of his had her reminiscing fondly about bank break-ins and Thestral outings. "So, I've done some research on advanced pregnancy detection spells. Provided the information available to the public is the most updated information, a magical pregnancy can be reliably detected within 48 hours of conception. Note the time it takes to conceive can vary quite a bit so I think that this is the best way to fiddle with the timeline. Sperm can take anywhere from 30 minutes to three days to reach the egg. It can hang around in fallopian tubes and the uterus waiting for an egg for a while too. Some say it can take up to five days."

She stared down at her research bemused. "For our purposes, I'd go with three days. Since we are practicing deception I wouldn't want to push up against any outliers. Interestingly enough, estimating time of conception is more accurate at the beginning of pregnancy. At eight weeks, the date of conception can be pinpointed between three and five days. Accuracy starts to drop off after twelve weeks due to the variance in fetal growth. It might be better for us to wait a while. Go ahead and do your appeal...dig in your heels and fight this law openly, and then let Ginny's pregnancy be 'discovered' by a medi-witch at a well-visit." She looked up at Harry and Ginny, conveying her seriousness with her tone. "With that timeline in mind, I'd say, try again tonight, and then give it a rest. We should know something by next week."

She sat her pregnancy research aside and pulled out her new appeal, passing out copies with a no-nonsense attitude that had served her well in the past when dealing with uncomfortable emotions. "Pregnant or not, we want a solid appeal. A foundation for other couples and a back-up plan for you. It could be a disaster to put together something sloppy and have the Ministry paper pushers suspect deception. I made use of my lawyer yesterday to put this draft together, and I'm pretty pleased with it. I'd like to move quickly and be the first to file, if you have no objections."

"Hermione, this reads like a foreign language. You want to clue us in?" At least Ron was paying attention; Harry was staring blankly at the appeal, his mind clearly elsewhere. He leaned in to whisper with Ginny, rudely ignoring what she was saying. Hermione held back a sigh of frustration and pressed on. She had classes at nine o'clock and needed to keep things progressing.

"I'm challenging the methodology for determining the pureblood score. I'm demanding that our own experts be consulted and allowed to attempt to replicate the results. And I'm leaving open the possibility of challenging the method itself. My lawyer, Mr. Dippant, is not confident that we can actually win the appeal...but he does acknowledge it's an excellent stall tactic while I work on challenging the law directly. I can probably drag this appeal out for months."

"Whatever you think is best," Harry mumbled briefly in her direction, clearly only listening with half an ear. His conversation with Ginny seemingly far more important. The girl was a distraction. Hermione knew that the possibly having a baby was a big deal, but so was this appeal. She needed Harry focused.

"So, I might already be pregnant?" Ginny spoke up, hesitantly. Clearly their conversation had not moved on from the last agenda item. Hermione held back her eye roll and the desire to tell her that, yes, sometimes unprotected sex resulted in a baby. She knew that wasn't what Ginny meant, and there was no need to bring her snarky attitude about it to the table.

"Well, you might have a fertilized egg, which if magical, will already have a unique magical signature. It takes 3-6 days for the egg to move down the fallopian tubes and implant in the uterus, which is when you will technically be considered pregnant,"

Ginny interrupted impatiently, "I don't care what we call it!"

Hermione tried to make her voice gentler and kinder, despite her irritation. "What I'm trying to say is that there is a reason why people don't check for pregnancy this early. Even if we do detect a magical signature, that doesn't mean that the egg will divide properly, or attach to the uterine wall properly. Scientists estimate that 50% of fertilized eggs are lost before you miss a period. I don't want to get your hopes up when the odds are so high that even a positive result will not mean a pregnancy. Maybe we should wait to check until there is a higher probability for a successful pregnancy."

"No, I don't want to wait!" Ginny's voice was a little too high pitched, a little wobbly. "It's a little scary, but I'd rather know than not know. I just, I mean, can we check? Do you know how to do that?"

"Yes, of course." A heavy feeling of dread settled in her stomach as she got to her feet. "I am going to check for a magical signature. This type of spell only detects a magical pregnancy. A non-magical baby won't have a magical signature."

Harry and Ginny both climbed to their feet, Harry putting a supporting arm around Ginny so she could lean up against him. Hermione felt like a little bit of a scrooge as she made him back up. She needed a clear space around the subject. At least she was getting to practice her cheerful detached bedside manner. She wasn't at all sure what field she wanted to go into, but Mediwizardry was at least in the top ten.

She took a deep breath and cast. A wave of her wand and heat was spreading through her, connecting her briefly with Ginny's magical aura. She found it very interesting that she knew Ginny's magic. Sure and steady, a pulsing orange warmth that was familiar and friendly and said hello with a gentle wave before the spell ended. The second signature was nothing more than a hazy bronze shadow that brightened just a little when her magic touched it...a flare of vitality and awareness that staggered Hermione just a bit. Ginny's baby had just said hello to her, and any foul feeling she had about this pregnancy suddenly seemed dirty and evil and shameful.

"Well, that was fast."

"And that means?" Ron almost shouted at her and she took a deep breath for fortitude. Ginny was almost white with anxiety and poor Harry had his arms wrapped around himself, statue still, waiting.

"I detected two magical signatures: Ginny's and one other. We have the earliest magical markers of fertilization. Congratulations."

She tried to fake some enthusiasm...after all, what was done was done, but she couldn't help but feel sorry for the couple hugging and crying and carrying on. This was a wonderful new adventure, but it also meant this was the only adventure they were going to have. Ginny looked painfully young. She shared a look with Ron and was surprised to notice that he actually looked a little green. It was one thing to think about making a baby, it was another to be actually faced with being an uncle.

"I think we should tell people right away. Now, today," Harry said, turning to face her, slipping an arm around Ginny. "We can't be the only ones that thought of this idea, and if we wait, then there will be a flood of pregnancies and the Ministry will have figured out a way to block it. I want to submit a proposal stating that we are pregnant and must adhere to the Pureblood marriage laws in place for pregnant girls. I already talked to a lawyer and he has a legal brief drawn up already."

Hermione felt what little control she had over the situation scatter like dry sand. This was happening too fast; they couldn't afford to make a mistake. "Wouldn't it be better to let someone else be the first to declare a pregnancy so we can see how the Ministry is going to react? They must have planned for this. If someone else goes first, we can better prepare our defense."

"Give them time to work out the kinks? Give them time to change the laws about termination? I don't think so. Terminating a magical pregnancy is a crime. A girl's family has the right to demand matrimony. How many single mothers do you see running about, Hermione? It just isn't done. I've done my research. Right now, I have the law on our side. Tomorrow, that might not be the case."

Hermione saw red. "Damn it, Harry! I put a ton of work into this brief, stressed over it. And all the time you had no intention of taking my advice at all. What the hell!"

"It's not like you can't use the brief for your case Hermione, or someone else's." Ginny broke in, a superior cat got the cream tone to her voice that sounded downright smug. "This is our future, our decision. We don't have to do everything you say; we don't need your permission. Just like you didn't need our permission to run off and get engaged to Malfoy without a word to anyone." Ginny pushed away from Harry and sat down. "I'm sorry you don't like the choices we have made, but everything doesn't have to be about you. Ron, have you decided who to bid on?"

And just like that, the three of them dismissed all her concerns and all her hard work. She felt that old resentment boiling up inside. Copying off her homework. Ditching her for girls, goofing off, and Quidditch. She took a deep breath and stuffed it all down deep. These were her friends and they meant well. They didn't mean to hurt her, she knew that. They were just very different from her, and she needed to remember to embrace those differences. If Ginny could be a little bitchy and catty...well, she also was confident and fun. If Harry could be pig-headed and short-sighted, he was also loyal and brave. Ron might sometimes be insensitive and selfish, but he was also kind and gentle. She sat down with her friends, trying to see the world from their point of view. She'd been working on that lately. Her tendency to see only her way as the right way was a flaw of hers, and she felt everyone needed to always be improving.

Ron glanced at her, noted her twisting hands, and gave her a sweet smile as a sign of solidarity. She pulled that kindness to her breast and let it warm her as she tuned into the conversation.

"Hermione and I narrowed the list down to five. I've just got to pick one and go down to place a bid. All of these choices have agreed to reimburse me for the cost of the bride price, and none of them are from Hogwarts...kinda don't want the complication of bidding on someone I know."

"What if Hermione doesn't get the law repealed? Then you are marrying a total stranger," Ginny gave Hermione a look under her lashes. "I want her to win too, but we need to plan for the worst and hope for the best."

"If it's not Hermione, then it doesn't matter who it is," Ron took her hand and tears sprang to her eyes. She wiped hastily at them, but everyone saw. In a blink, she had Ginny on her other side with an arm around her shoulders. Before she could stop them, her tears were coming in a flood. She hated this stupid law, what it was doing to her friends, what it was doing to Ron. And she hated hated hated crying.

She forced herself to suck it up, take a wet breath, and soldier on. "Ginny does have a point, Ron. We should decide based on who would be the best choice if I'm unable to get the law repealed in time."

But she knew that mulish expression. He wasn't going to budge on this. "I want to marry you, and if I can't marry you, then it doesn't matter who I do marry. I'll never love anyone else."

He grabbed one of the letters at random, tossing it on the table. "Her - I'll bid on whoever that is. Now my bidding is decided, and Harry has decided what to do, that just leaves you. What's in the box?"

Hermione ignored him and picked up the letter. Alice Shire. Her father had written the letter asking Ron to bid on Alice. He felt that Ron would make the best choice based on his close-knit family and part in the war. The man had enclosed a photograph of Alice, who had graduated from Beauxbatons, and Hermione wanted to cry all over again. It was a graduation photo and the girl was brimming with happiness, smiling and waving. Pretty, blonde, young. "I think we should write Alice and see what she thinks before we do anything else."

Ron opened his mouth to object, stubborn set to his shoulders, but then he took a breath and the letter back from her and stared down at the photo silently. "That's probably a good idea."

There was a tapping at the window, another owl. Hermione couldn't have picked a better time for a distraction. She took a deep drink of slightly cold tea while Harry jumped up to get the mail.

Taking a quick bite of scone, Hermione glanced at her list. There was a sick perversion that went into her tiny little checkmarks. The nauseating swirling in her stomach that accompanied tasks like confirming Ginny's pregnancy and choosing Ron's potential fiance did not mesh well with the satisfaction she always got when she marked off something on her list.

"Well, this is interesting," Harry had torn open the owl-post haphazardly and was staring at a letter and holding a familiar looking disk. Sure enough, when she looked, she saw it was a portkey identical to the one she had received that morning. A flat disk, engraved with the words 'Malfoy Portkey'.

"Is that silver do you think?" Ron wondered out loud, taking the disk while Hermione scanned the note.

Potter,

Do not, under any circumstances, leave Granger alone. The whole damn school has lost its mind over this thing. It's not safe.

The binding ceremony is scheduled for tomorrow at four o'clock. My mum wants Granger there by three. If you don't know how to activate a portkey, be sure to ask someone. Last thing I need is for Granger to end up splinched in Siberia.

Malfoy

"Wonder what's going on?" Harry asked as she passed the note to Ron and pulled out her own letter.

"Even more interesting than that, I don't think he knows his mum wrote to me herself."

Ron snatched the letter first. Hermione grabbed the package sitting beside her and put it precisely in the middle of the table. The four of them stared at a tiny harmless looking box while the letter was passed around.

"This letter is awfully nice," Ginny commented. "I'm not sure we can trust it."

"Which is why I have not opened the box." It was nice to share a smile with the girl, the snotty ice between them having thawed as quickly as it had frosted. Apparently Ginny had decided to forgive Hermione's unwanted engagement. The girl's legendary temperament was as changeable as the wind.

"Well, best get on with it," Harry reached out carefully, as if the thing were full of live scorpions, and opened the box. Inside was a purple silk bag. Hermione lifted it out, opened it up, and let the heavy jewelry slide into her palm. As the letter suggested it was a ring, an extremely beautiful and surprisingly delicate ring. She had half expected some God-awful monstrosity with the letter M square in the center. Instead, it was something she could see herself wearing. Five round diamonds and two lovely sparkling sapphires, centered on a detailed gold band. She could feel the magic pulsing in her palm. The ring almost vibrated with it, a reverberating feeling of safety and love she would not have expected to come from the Malfoys. This ring was definitely cherished; she could sense it. Regardless of anything else, it was truly a gesture of trust for Narcissa to send her such a valuable piece of their family history.

Distrusting her own visceral reaction, she set the ring on the table. It could just be part of the magic: lull her into feeling safe so she would put it on. Everyone else got close, rubbernecking to get a good look without touching, while she got out her notes on curse detecting. She told her friends to step back and fired off a series of spells that she was reasonably certain would reveal any enchantments, charms, or curses that would cause a change in behavior, mind control, or poison. With each spell the ring glowed a bright blue, passing each test. Out of an abundance of caution she made her way down every detection spell on her list, just to be safe, but the first three pretty much put her mind at ease. This ring was infused with protection spells, layered one over the other. A sense of age and time cloaked the magic, giving her the impression of years and years worth of reinforced enchantments.

The magic was dense and powerful, but not malicious. It also seemed to know her. She felt drawn to it, and she detected a touch of feminine power that answered each spell she cast, a little acknowledgement that she had every right to examine it, that it welcomed the touch of her magic. In the end, even though she was certain that the ring meant her no harm, the slight sense of sentience made her nervous. She knew that powerful magical objects over time sometimes took on a sort of awareness and sense of purpose. Sometimes even developed a distinct temperament. It wasn't necessarily evil, but her experiences with horcruxes in the past made her wary. She didn't know if she would consent to wear it.

Satisfied, she put another little tick mark on her to-do list.

A loud pounding at the window caused everyone to jump a little. Hermione goggled at the sight of Malfoy hovering outside their window. It took her a split-second to realize he was aboard broomstick and another half-second to snatch her ring up off the table, shoving it in her pocket. She didn't know why she didn't want him to see it, but for some reason the thought unnerved her.

Harry hurried to the window while Hermione put Narcissa's letter back in her folder. She glanced around to make sure there was nothing else that Malfoy shouldn't see before placing her own personal privacy spell on both her to-do list and her notes to protect them from prying eyes before she slid them into her bag. Satisfied with her security measures, she noxed her listening spell, deliberately keeping busy so she didn't have to watch Malfoy grasp the windowsill and swing inside in one fluid motion.

Malfoy glanced around at them, as if he had every right to be in the Gryffindor common room, before addressing Hermione directly. "So, there is a problem."

"Are those the only words you know?" she asked, feeling distinctly discombobulated to have Malfoy in her space. Gryffindor tower was a sanctuary, having a Slytherin amongst the burgundy decor felt downright invasive. He was wind-tossed in a way that still looked like he'd stepped off the cover of a magazine which irritated her further. No one should look that good just off broomstick. His cheeks had a healthy flush that didn't look at all ruddy, the way her own cheeks got in the cold. His designer haircut still managed to look debonair despite being abused by the wind. And his leather riding gear hugged his long lithe form like a second skin. He must have come from Quidditch practice; she knew they practiced early some days. He had that Quidditch pitch smell of grass and sunshine that she typically associated with her boys and did not like him sharing.

He gave her that smile of his that was growing familiar. A slow showing of even white teeth that was just a little on the teasing side. She crossed her arms defensively in response.

"The Ministry jokers are on premises looking for you right now. Apparently your suitors want your mental health evaluated. They are claiming you must be imperiused or bonkers to have agreed to this engagement. We have to get you out of here, right now."

"You've got to be kidding me!" she exclaimed even as Ron agreed with her suitors.

"They do have a point, Hermione, it's a bit off-center to go running off alone and agree to marry Malfoy of all people."

Hermione resisted giving Ron a foul look and tried to keep her composure; she didn't want to pile on in front of the enemy as it were. Malfoy was giving her boyfriend a foul enough look for the both of them. Besides, if she gave into her emotions she might have another meltdown. She could feel that clawing, anxious, screaming feeling blooming again in her chest. The whole reason she had agreed to marry Malfoy was to get a respite, but these Ministry goons just would not let up. It was one thing after another. Jesus, she'd complied with their stupid law, at least on the surface, and they were still coming after her.

"They can't just force a mental eval on her," Harry added belligerently, both feet apart, arms crossed, his dislike of Malfoy firmly stamped on his features. Hermione noted that he had placed himself quite firmly between the enemy and Ginny and wondered in a corner of her mind if he even realized he had done it. "She's of age."

"Why is everything a battle with you people? I'm trying to help!" She was pleased to see some exasperation creeping into his voice. She had always enjoyed getting a rise out of Malfoy and knocking down his huge ego a bit. It used to be easier to rile him; this damned composure of his was new. She liked to rub it sideways to prove that underneath his politically correct smile and carefully cool persona lurked the same old spoiled Malfoy who did not like to be challenged. "If they decide she's mentally incompetent, they can do anything they want with her. She doesn't have any magical family that needs to be consulted. After the binding tomorrow, she'll be under Malfoy protection, but right now she is vulnerable."

She wondered if he, Malfoy, could even be classified as the enemy any longer. Here he was, in her space, giving her info. The war was over, trials complete, punishment meted out where it was due. She had testified for him, because it was the right thing to do. He had been in an impossible situation, and that had to be taken into account. Yet here she was, clinging to her prejudice against Slytherins, just as he had accused her of doing earlier this week.

Just because he'd always been on the other side of right, didn't mean that he was wrong now. It didn't mean he was right either. He always had his own reasons for doing things, she had to remember that. No matter how much he reminded her of her boys at this moment. Swooping in on broomstick, defending her right to be clear of Ministry interference, seeming to be on their side.

Hermione decided to ruminate on Malfoy's enemy status another time, ignored all the byplay, and jumped right to the heart of the matter. "Why are they wanting to have me evaluated in the first place? I complied with their stupid law."

The snotty condescension in his tone when he replied to her, the irritated curl to his lip, was all vintage Malfoy, and she was glad to see it. It seemed way more genuine than his forced politeness. "You people can not possibly be this naive. This whole stupid law is a swipe at us. The old Pureblood guard. You are not supposed to agree to marry me. I'm supposed to twist in the wind, alone forever because no decent girl outside of my circle will have me."

Actually, on further examination, Hermione didn't think his malice was directed at her, rather at the Ministry, as he went on, obviously furious. "As usual they read society sentiment completely wrong. They want to relegate the old families to shameful remnants of the past, rendering our influence moot. Instead, I've got twice as many brainless twits begging to be the next Mrs. Malfoy. The whole nasty law is backfiring in the worst way. Society is in a violent uproar. Various factions are maneuvering and manipulating, trying to use this flux in the status quo to either keep their status or move up in the world. Entire fortunes are changing hands, there have already been a dozen bloody murders. Kingsley and his entire cohort are disgraced and hanging onto power by a thread."

Hermione knew she was gaping at him, but she'd had no idea things were so volatile. She'd been so focused on her personal mission, avoiding both her suitors and gossip, that she hadn't really been in public outside of classes.

"And here you sit, in your gilded tower, trying to figure out how to marry for love. You have no idea the power and influence you have," he was shaking his head, his voice softening to a bemused, awed whisper as he stared at her, his expression disbelieving. He let out an incredulous laugh. "I honestly used to think that you were just playing innocent, but you really are so disconnected from our world that you don't know. So genuinely clueless that you don't even see all that is going on. The beloved muggle-born sweetheart Hermione Granger bestowing her favor on the Malfoys has set the whole damn law on its ear. Instead of us evil Death Eater families being punished with extinction, either with no heirs or substandard heirs, I've literally managed to snag the cream of the crop. Beautiful, intelligent, powerful, influential, publicly beloved Hermione fucking Granger. They will do anything to stop it. The Ministry, your other suitors who want your status for themselves and their heirs, everyone and anyone who hates my family. It's not safe here, Granger."

He glanced at her friends who were also staring at him slack jawed. "Tell her, Potter, you know the Ministry can't be trusted. Let's just get her out of here. We can figure out what to do at another location." That hard edge to his voice snapped her out of her shocked silence, and she decided to pick apart that little revealing speech word by word at another time. It was way too much to process on the fly. Just the word 'beautiful' rolling off his tongue in connection with her name was too much. Never mind the litany of other positives he had rattled off.

"If they are looking for me, how the hell am I supposed to get out of here?" she asked, realizing that just changing locations would buy her time to verify his story and decide how to act. He held up his broomstick and she laughed in his face. Before she could tell him that there was no way in hell she was getting on a broomstick, the Fat Lady caught her attention, and they all froze to listen.

She was arguing with someone. Practically shouting: "I don't care who you are! I simply cannot open the portrait without a password!" They all shared a startled look, Malfoy as wide-eyed as the rest of them. She was being loud on purpose, warning them. "You go ahead and fetch the Headmistress...I've no doubt that she knows the password."

Hermione glanced around, trying to figure out where could hide. She felt very much like she was five and had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She had half decided that she would not hide, that she would face this problem head-on, when she found herself being pushed onto Malfoy's broomstick and shoved out the window.

If Malfoy hadn't been wrapped around her, she would have plunged to her death in seconds. She had a handful of terrifying moments where she fought him - trying to get back onto the windowsill and onto solid ground, before he managed to guide the broom away from the window. Followed by an extremely upsetting wrestling match where he tried to pry her arms out from around his neck so he could breath while he hissed angrily at her to just calm down and be fucking quiet. She finally managed to claw her way out of blind panic enough to loosen her grip before he lost control of the broom. He twisted around enough to flatten them up against the wall in such a way that she felt at least slightly sturdy. Her acute fear was nauseating, blood pounding through her head, vision spotty from lack of air.

Ironically, the only stable thing in her tiny world was Malfoy who had a very firm grip on her, letting her cling to him tightly as she could, while he whispered in her hair. "Breathe, Granger, I've got you. I won't let you fall. Take a deep breath for me. Just pull in some air. Hold it. Let it out. That's a good girl. Take another breath for me. In, hold it, out."

She kept her eyes screwed shut, her thighs clamped like death around the tiny twig suspending them hundreds of feet in the air and focused on his hypnotizing voice. Breathe in, breathe out. That was all that mattered. He wouldn't let her go. She wasn't going to fall. He was steady as a rock, and she didn't care that she was clinging to that strength, as long as he didn't let her fall. She lost track of time for a few moments but finally became aware that it was cold, her school uniform was not appropriate for the chilly September air, and she calmed enough to really shiver. Still, she would rather freeze than have her solid Malfoy-shaped rock shift around to try to wrap her in his cloak. A new burst of fresh panic had her struggling, but he kept firm hold of her. "Relax, Granger, I won't let you fall. I'm just sharing my cloak."

The warmth was enveloping after the chill, and having something solid wrapped around her helped calm her irrational fear so she could quit wiggling and concentrate on breathing and listening. They drifted a little closer to the window as they both strained to hear the conversation going on inside the tower.

"Hermione's been gone for ages. I think she had an early breakfast and then was off to see her lawyer," Ron was always the best liar amongst them.

"Oh, this bag?" Ginny chimed in at the top of her voice, her friends were clearly speaking louder than natural so that she could hear. Whoever was in the room with them was just an inaudible murmur, but Ginny's voice was carrying. "This is my bag, of course."

"She's not up there, sir." A female voice she didn't recognize. "Not in her room, the girls' tower, anywhere. We even checked the trunks and closets."

"No one wants to hurt her, Harry," Hermione wasn't sure, but that might be old toad-face herself, Umbridge. "We just want to get her the help she needs. You don't want to keep her from getting the help she needs, do you?"

"Boys' dorm clear!" Yet another voice.

"Withholding information from a Ministry official is a crime, Mr. Potter." That was clearly Kingsley. "Being a celebrity does not exempt you from the law."

"I'm sorry, Minister, but I don't know where she is. Last I saw her was early this morning."

"That is a LIE!" Something slammed, maybe a hand on the table. Hermione jumped in her skin, holding in a whimper and clung a little harder to Malfoy. "The house elves said they brought breakfast to this room this morning for the four of you. Now you tell me where she is right this minute or I'll have veritaserum administered!"

"You need to have Wizenmongot authority to issue veritaserum," McGonagall's pinched angry voice was deadly serious. "I will not allow you to abuse my students. Being Minister of Magic does not exempt you from the law either, Mr. Kingsley. I've let you search Gryffindor tower; she is clearly not here. There is no need to threaten innocent students!"

Some more hissed conversation that she couldn't quite make out. Malfoy took them another inch closer to the window. "What kind of school are you running here, Headmistress? Girls gone missing, belligerent students, deliberate obstruction of my search. Make no mistake, there will be an inquiry." Kingsley's booming voice certainly carried well. "I want her found! Search everywhere again."

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Weasley. In light of your friend being missing, you are excused from morning classes." McGonagall's voice gave nothing away, but Hermione immediately knew that she was giving them permission to help her get out of this situation, and she wanted to cry. It was such a relief to have at least one adult person in this crazy nightmare willing to help even a little bit. "Be sure to update me immediately if Miss Granger should contact you."

There was some slamming and then silence. Harry poked his head out the window and whispered at them. "Hold tight, I gotta fetch my broom."

Before she really had time to dwell on the fact that she was still hovering in midair and get even further worked up again, Ron, Ginny, and Harry had all exited via the window. And then she had to concentrate on not throwing up, not letting loose the rabid screams that were clawing at her throat, not choking Malfoy, because they were hurtling through space towards the relative safe cover of the Forbidden Forest.

~ Armistice ~

Thank you so much to lightofevolution who helped me work out all of the details in this chapter, any mistakes are definitely my own. Also lots of love to Barton81 for the super fast and thorough editing job!