Disclaimer: all characters and the wider wizarding world belong to J. K. Rowling.

Hermione was groggy and uncomfortable as the sunlight woke her. As consciousness crept up on her, she slowly became aware of her surroundings. She was sleeping in her clothes. Was she in Ginny's room? Suddenly the events of the previous evening came flooding back and she sat up, only to be cocooned in Molly Weasley's arms.

The older witch made soothing noises as Hermione's heart rate returned to normal and she recognised the familiar surroundings of Ginny's bedroom at the Burrow.

"Oh Molly, I'm so sorry-"

"Nonsense, child!" Molly admonished. "We couldn't have you going back to Hogwarts in that state and you know you're always welcome here."

"How embarrassing," Hermione groaned as she tried to fix her nightmare hair into a bun. "I hope I didn't do anything really outlandish. I don't really remember anything after - oh Merlin - Draco! Is he ok, is Mrs Malfoy alright?"

"They're fine. Narcissa is safe and sound at Andromeda's with a barrage of potions, I'm sure you remember. Poor Draco didn't want to leave you, but he had to settle his mother, but he promised to be back for breakfast. I thought you might want a chance to freshen up before then."

Hermione berated her own heart for fluttering at the news of his impending arrival, but she couldn't help but be excited.

"He's a good boy, all told," the older witch commented. "But enough of that, you'll want to be up and dressed quickly. I'm expecting Harry, Ron, and Ginny for breakfast as well - Minerva said they could visit as it's Saturday. Although how she managed to stop those boys charging over here in the middle of the night I'll never know!" She hurried from the room, straightening already-straight odds and ends and gesticulating at the wardrobe. "I'm sure you can find something of yours in Ginny's closet, dear, breakfast will be ready when you come down."

When Hermione emerged at the foot of the stairs, the sight she beheld was one she didn't think she'd ever forget. Harry, Ron, and Ginny had arrived and were sat at the dining table arguing animatedly about a foul (or as Ginny insisted, not a foul) in some famous quidditch final with Draco Malfoy. Molly was bustling away in the kitchen and Arthur was reading the paper at the opposite end of the table, a sly smile on his face.

Draco's eyes flicked to the foot of the stairs and he smiled, his whole face lighting up on seeing her. For a moment, Hermione thought she would finally be forgiven her transgression with the quill and things might return to where they'd been before, however undefined it had been, but then the shutters came down and his impassive face returned. Hermione's smile faltered, but she quickly hid it plastering a huge smile on her face before her friends enveloped her in a bone crushing hug.

"Mione, thank Merlin you're alright!" Ginny was the first to reach her, but the boys quickly joined in and added their relief. They sat at the table as Molly floated in dishes piled high with bacon, eggs, sausages, and toast.

"McGonagall told us about what happened," Harry began, nervously pushing up his glasses and running a hand through his hair.

"Not that she gave us much detail," Ron groused, piling his plate with more eggs than it was entirely necessary to have in one sitting. "Just said you had a funny turn and were staying here to recover."

Draco and Hermione caught each other's eyes. They didn't know about his aunt. That meant they'd have to tell them.

"She didn't even mention anything about ferret face here."

Ginny smacked her brother on the arm, oblivious as he was to the obvious tension, but Draco merely smirked and mock doffed his cap.

"Pleasure, Weasel."

Hermione sighed and grumbled something about it being too good to be true.

"Wha'?" Ron mumbled, his mouth full of sausage, which he promptly chewed and swallowed after a stern look from his mother. "We're being nice, aren't we - what more do you want?"

Ginny shoved another sausage in her brother's open mouth to shut him up.

"What is it?" She murmured, conscious of the adults in the room. "What happened that has you two so skittish?"

Hermione looked to Draco, who seemed to be trying to rub his left arm clean off under the table. He met her eyes only briefly and jerked his head in the direction of the door.

Harry caught on to the signs and quickly ushered them out to the quidditch pitch after breakfast had concluded, claiming Ginny was going to prove it wasn't a foul and then they'd have to pay up. They silently collected brooms and balls from the shed and started walking towards the back field.

As soon as they crested the hill that took them out of sight of the house Ginny and Harry dropped their brooms and turned to Hermione and Draco.

"Spill," the redhead demanded.

Hermione looked at Draco, her eyes trying to convey the fear in her heart. She knew it was irrational, but she didn't think she could say it aloud without losing it again. He seemed to understand because he nodded and sighed.

"Bellatrix is back."

Just as it had the night before, the silence lasted only a moment before the chaos began. Ginny grabbed Harry's arm as Ron threw his broom in a fit of rage screaming about people just bloody well staying dead from now on.

Hermione swayed a moment on her feet before Draco was guiding her to sit with her head between her knees.

"Relax, Granger," he whispered into her hair. The chaos around them stopped as the others rushed to her side to comfort her.

"I'm assuming as my mum fed you this morning you had nothing to do with this?" Ron's fists clenched and unclenched with barely suppressed rage.

"Seeing as she cursed both at me and my mother - who's fine, by the way, thanks for asking - I'd say so," Draco replied, a little too calmly. Ron correctly recognised the warning and nodded, the anger dissipating. "She freed my father, for good measure. It was a less than happy reunion."

Hermione reached out and put a hand on his shoulder intending to comfort him, but he shook her off. He didn't need pity for losing the affection of a father that had all but lost his way. She snapped her hand back as if it burned, and he remembered that guilt was not the most comfortable of feelings.

"How?" Ginny spluttered.

"I think that's fairly obvious," Draco retorted, sitting on the ground beside Hermione, his long legs stretching out in front of him. "She made a horcrux."

They all absorbed that information quietly. Harry absent-mindedly rubbed at his scar, the memories of the horcrux hunt still too close for comfort.

"Harry, stop rubbing at that thing, it's making me feel very uncomfortable," Hermione grumbled.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "It's just, another horcrux? It doesn't make sense. Tom Riddle wanted to be immortal, to be the most powerful wizard who ever lived, but he wanted it for himself, never to share. Why would he tell Bellatrix how to make one too?"

Draco watched as they all mulled that over. He wasn't in the habit of sharing every piece of information he owned - it wasn't a very Slytherin thing to do - but he'd spent enough time at home last year to know there was something more going on. As much as his mother had tried to shield him from some of the worst of it, being a marked Death Eater had at least allowed him free movement within the house.

"I may know something about that," he ventured quietly. All eyes snapped to him and he swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Last year when Voldemort used the manor as a base of operations of sorts, I kept my head down as much as possible but people still like to gossip. It was no secret among the rank and file Death Eaters that Bella didn't spend her nights in her husband's suite, if you catch my meaning."

If anything, the silence after that revelation was even more tense than the one preceding it.

"Oh, that is just disgusting," Ron grumbled. "Merlin, I'll never get an erection again."

"Too much information, Ronald," Ginny snapped.

They let the news sink in for a moment. The birds chirping in the trees seemed entirely incongruous with the news they'd just received.

"Well, what's the plan?" Harry asked, when the silence got too much to bear.

Hermione shook her head violently.

"No, not this time Harry," she explained. "Last time was different. There was the prophecy and he had control of the ministry. This is totally different! Kingsley is involved and they have aurors and officials who aren't in anyone's pockets to investigate and fight if necessary."

Harry and Ron stared at her with mouths open.

"You can't-"

"Mione, what-"

"No!"

The ferocity of the word stopped them both in their tracks. It wasn't often that Hermione screamed like that. She caught Ginny's eye and saw the younger girl was crying but nodding for her to continue.

"No, Harry, Ron. This isn't our fight this time. If it gets to the point where schoolchildren have to fight again then I will be at the front of the queue but this time we are not going off on our own based on a prophecy and the vague guidance of a dead man to defeat someone with hooks so deep into the establishment that we had to get out from under it to fight!"

She took a deep breath before continuing, trying to use the time to calm the turmoil in her mind and her heart.

"Let the professionals take care of it while we finish our schooling and at least pretend we're still kids."

Ginny grabbed Harry's hand and any words he might have said died in his mouth. Ron didn't miss the look exchanged between them and huffed in frustration. He met their eyes and Hermione's in turn and saw the conviction behind them.

"So we just do nothing?"

"No, of course not," Harry sighed. "We stay vigilant, we prepare. We warn everyone and make sure the school and the younger years are safe while Kingsley and the Ministry, the aurors and everyone official searches for her and puts an end to her and all her followers."

Draco couldn't help but shift uncomfortably at the thought of his father being on the receiving end of that force. Harry noticed and at least had the heart to wince.

"Sorry, Malfoy, it's just, he's an escaped convict and-"

"Save it, Potter. Lucius made his choice."

"And what about your choice?"

With hindsight, perhaps Ron hadn't been the best person to ask.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Draco began, as calmly as he could, but his white knuckles gave him away. "In case you'd forgotten, Weasley, my mother and I were attacked last night. We're not rushing to sign up to join my deranged aunt, so what exactly are you asking?"

"Dumbledore's Army, Malfoy. Are you in or not?"

"Ron," Hermione pleaded. "Don't you think that decision can wait? His mother is still recovering - you know what Dolohov's curse is like, you remember how sick I was-"

"Yeah, but it's not like he's the one who's been cursed," Ron continued. "It's a simple enough question. Are you in or not, ferret?"

Draco's blood boiled. This is not how he'd expected this morning to go. His mother was recovering, Madam Pomfrey's barrage of potions had helped almost immediately, and he already knew Granger had survived so he knew a full recovery was possible, but she was still fragile. He'd seen his deranged aunt – the one who taught him legilimency at wand point, the threat of a crucio never far away – resurrected from the dead, with his slightly unhinged father in tow. His head reeled from having Dumbledore's name thrown in his face. He took a deep breath.

"What do you want me to say?" He asked, calmly. Too calmly. Hermione was wary of that tone and threw Ron a look to shut him up. He at least had the decency to look sheepish.

"It can wait. I'm sure you want to make sure your mother's alright-"

"And then what? Sign up to fight the good fight against my aunt, the fathers of my schoolyard chums and my dear old Dad?" His familiar sneer pasted itself across his face. It had been a while, but it felt like putting on a comfortable pair of shoes. "Participate in a secret club named for a man I tried to kill on more than one occasion? Teach firsties how to cast a Patronus? Oh, wait, can't do that, can I? Not with this testament to my misspent youth on my arm."

Unshed tears clung to Hermione's lashes. She wanted to reach out for him, but she suspected he'd shrug it off like before, or worse, storm off insulted.

"Draco, please, we're not suggesting you fight your father, of course-"

"Stop, Granger," he answered, his voice cold, smooth, and even, devoid of emotion. "That's exactly what you're asking. Don't be so naïve."

He stood up, grabbed his broom, and threw his leg over it before she could even respond. He threw her one last look before speeding off towards the Burrow.

The sounds of the birds chirping nearby was interrupted only by the sound of Ginny's hand connecting with the back of Ron's head. He didn't even complain.

A/N: So no, I haven't given up yet, but writing is tough with a full time job and two kids. Bear with me, please!