Winter hols had been blessedly quiet the first few days and Hermione had jotted down bare details each evening for her professor's peace of mind. Lucius Malfoy was absent so often she had only spent two meals in his presence, and the odious Bellatrix Lestrange was only a whisper; that whisper contained the rumor that something was bubbling beneath the surface of Pureblood politics and both Lord Malfoy and the House of Lestrange were taken up by it.

That was all well enough for Hermione who really was intent on her upcoming OWLs.

"You know mother will expect you to leave the library at some point, don't you?"

"Hm?" Her amber eyes tore unwillingly from the aged vellum she'd been reading and Draco hid his amusement behind a cough. Perhaps had he been more Slytherin she wouldn't have noticed. "I leave the library at least twice a day."

The pale young man dropped into his familiar seat across from her; this was their usual workspace in the manor and they'd passed weeks of their lives sequestered there with books and parchment and eager conversations. "To be sure. Not enough, judging by the bruises under your eyes. Have you been using a glamour to hide those? I know mother hasn't seen them or she'd be beside herself. You know-

"'A lady's beauty is her first weapon against wizardkind and often the blade that keeps them unwitting of her intellect.'" She rolled her bloodshot eyes heavenward as they recited the adage together. "Yes, yes. But I can worry about my looks after NEWTs."

Draco dragged her book toward him to scan the page, brows knitting as he made out the upside down words. "Transfiguration is arguably your best class, Hermione. I don't think you need to read this. It's practically a primer."

She pursed chapped lips and tugged the book back into place. "What do you want, Draco?"

"I think mother is planning on formal introductions during the party." At the lift of her brow, he continued, "To the parents and heads of houses of those she deems acceptable partners to us."

That stole her attention at last. "Us?"

Sardonicism laced his smile. "We are both her responsibility. You perhaps even more than me, considering father should be taking me under his wing as his heir."

Lucius Malfoy had spent increasingly less time with his son over the years, contrary to most Pureblood fathers. While Theo Nott and Greg Goyle and every other heir of every other house was learning the ins and outs of their family's work, Draco was left to his own devices. It couldn't last; Draco was his father's only heir and would always be, since Narcissa could no longer carry. But while he'd been somewhat of a doting father throughout Draco's childhood, he'd become distant. Hermione knew a good portion of it was Draco's un-Slytherin behavior. First sorted into Hufflepuff, then close friendships with Gryffindor families such as the Potters and Weasleys. And she knew it had somewhat to do with her influence.

If there was one trait Draco had above all others it was loyalty to those he loved. To his parents, certainly, but also to her. She was the one non-Slytherin from his pre-Hogwarts life, the only spot amidst solid green. Of course it was her fault.

But it could not be helped. Draco had made his choice and he was happy despite the growing chasm between himself and his patriarch.

"Why is she looking for a partner for me? I'm a mudblood. I hardly think some pompous git who can trace his lineage through ten generations of purity will deign to wed me." Her cheeks flushed at the very idea of someone like Vince Crabbe standing at the end of an aisle for her. Unlikely.

"I don't know." Draco swept a hand vaguely as her. "You're smart and pretty, I suppose. And not all Purebloods are gits. Cousin Reg isn't so bad."

Her jaw dropped. "Regulus Black? You're joking. His mother would smother a halfblood infant in its sleep if someone tried to call it an heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black."

Laughter bubbled out of pressed lips as Draco stopped trying to pretend it wasn't a horrid joke. "No?"

"And he's old," she insisted, lip curled.

"Reg isn't that old. He's, what, eighteen years older than us?"

She swatted Draco's shoulder as his face broke into a grin. "You're having a go at me. Besides, no one Lady Cissa would approve of would sully their line."

Joy slipped from his grey eyes as his mouth took a solemn turn. "Mother will want to make a good match for you before we graduate, Hermione. She'll not hesitate to use the Malfoy name to secure you a place in the world."

"I don't need to get married."

"But it is the best way she knows to keep a woman safe." He plucked her hand from the soft vellum and held it in both of hers. "She loves you. You know how some muggleborns are treated. You've been sheltered from the worst of it by the Malfoy name and she will want to provide you safety for your future as well. It's no less than she would do were you actually her daughter."

Were she actually a Malfoy she would probably be engaged already. "Well. I suppose that's true." She grimaced. "There's no hope of me getting out of the party, is there?"

"None," Draco informed. "In fact…"

The slim silhouette of Narcissa Malfoy neé Black appeared in the doorway. "There you are. I've been searching the manor for you all day. Hermione, dearest, we must get you fitted for your gown."

She exchanged a look with Draco who was just the humbler side of gloating, then stood. It was best to indulge Lady Cissa when she was bent on preparing for an event. "I was thinking perhaps the gold I wore during Yule my third year," she suggested, rising and approaching her guardian. "It can easily be altered to this season's cut and-"

"Mm, no, that won't do at all." Narcissa stared down at her with raptor cunning, eyes measuring the nearly grown young woman she'd become and weighing her assets. She stroked one charm-tamed curl and smiled. "This is your last Yule before you come of age. It is time the wizarding world started recognizing you for the woman you'll become."