Song Suggestion: Chase Holfelder- "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" (Cyndi Lauper cover) (Major to Minor) … This song actually inspired the last five or so chapters in this story. I love the way the cover turns the lyrics into something more sinister.

All the kudos go to my beta, MyPrivateInsanity

A Black Galleon

Hermione tried to be content with her life, but it had become monotonous–a nonstop repetition of school days with her friends and the occasional moment with Titus when he had the time for her. In January, Tabitha's family member fell ill, so she moved away to help her, leaving Hermione with no one to talk to most of the days.

Titus worked odd hours, gone before she woke up and coming home long after it was dark. At night, he'd hover in her doorway while she pretended to sleep. She felt his eyes on her back, examining her as if trying to solve a complicated puzzle.

On the weekends, she wandered around the manor, wondering if she resembled a ghost. She'd go to his mother's sitting room to stare at the painting of the ballerina, and then she'd scream in her frustration.

What would she do when her friends left? Katie started her Trials after Easter. Julie would be gone by December, and the boys left in the fall. By Christmas, she'd be alone. When Theo had entered Hogwarts, she had thought she'd been lonely, but it was nothing compared to the present. She felt as if she were surrounded by an empty ocean, struggling to stay afloat as dark clouds cast shadows over her life.

She wished to do something or be something— a dragon rider, a curse breaker. She envisioned scenarios in her head of sitting in the Wizengamot with her own purple robes. Why couldn't she work and have children? It still made no sense to her why they suppressed her magic.

Unless— like Viktor suggested— they were afraid of her magic. But why would someone as strong as Titus be afraid of her magic?

Instead of learning to be happy, she swallowed her bitterness.

One day, Titus came home early.

"How was your day?" he asked at dinner. It was Sunday. She'd spent two days just walking the gardens and reading books she'd already read, talking out loud to have a semblance of a conversation.

She shrugged at the question, making a noncommittal noise at the back of her throat.

He stared at her as she cut her chicken into miniscule bites.

"I was thinking about getting you a tutor for activities to fill your time on the weekends when I'm not here. Dance, maybe? I know how much you like to look at the paintings in my mother's sitting room."

That wasn't why she stared at them, but she didn't say anything.

"Sure," she said.

"You don't sound very enthused."

"I just—" she sighed. "I'm not very interested in dance."

"Alright," he said. "What about art lessons?"

She couldn't stop her grimace. It peeked through without her permission.

"I see that's a no as well." He set down his fork and rested his chin in his hand, while she still refused to look at him. "I need you to help me with this." He straightened and ran a hand through his hair. "I see you're unhappy. It distresses me. Staying at the manor used to never bother you. What changed?"

"I grew up," she said without thinking. Her emotions seemed to be slipping out of her whether she willed it or not. "I need more."

"What do you need more of?"

"I'm not sure."

She didn't know if she could put the feeling into words, the gnawing void in her chest. The need for excitement. Adventure. Purpose. And not a purpose that involved providing something for someone else. A real purpose, crafted only for her.

"That's entirely unhelpful." Titus tilted his head, as if in deep thought. "I think I'll invest in some horses. You love the outdoors, and I think taking care of the animals would benefit you."

She gave a sharp nod, attempting to hide her profound disappointment. She'd accept the diversion, but Hermione didn't know how much longer she could go on like this.

They ate the rest of the meal in silence, as Hermione tried to bury her deep unhappiness, while Titus tore apart her expression, uncovering it anyway.


"We're not fourteen, wandering off into Knockturn Alley for some giggles." Theo's voice still had a bite to it when talking to his brother.

Titus sat in his office with the ancient desk in front of him. A few case files perched on the edge, and it took everything inside her not to indulge in curiosity and try to read them. Titus would know if she did though, and then he'd ban her from going out with Theo. And if she didn't get out of the manor soon, she'd surely descend into insanity.

"The Order is—"

"We'll be in the middle of Diagon Alley." Theo's eyes landed on Hermione. "Have you even let her out of the manor since Christmas?"

Titus scowled. "Of course, I have." But he flinched, knowing the truth just as well as she did.

He'd brought her out only three times. Once to Diagon Alley. Once on a trip to the Lestrange household. And once to Hogsmeade—though not when Hogwarts students were visiting.

Titus stared at her hard.

Please, she mouthed to him. He didn't trust Theo to watch her any more. Not with both the Malfoy and Zabini incidents he knew about. But he must see her desperation, because he let out a long sigh.

"Fine," he said. "But eyes on her at all times. I want to see the pre-approved list of places you will visit, and I'm going to send an auror to follow you."

He hated relying on aurors after Garner tried to kidnap her. Titus only trusted himself, which meant she rarely got out, because he never had the time to bring her places. The fact he was letting her go with Theo was a big step.

Hermione walked over and gave him a hug. His stiff shoulders loosened at her touch, and he dragged her close, hands around her waist, face in her hair.

"Thank you," she said.

"Don't make me regret it."

"I won't."

"No pranks, thievery, or running away into abandoned alleys."

"Promise."

She kissed his cheek. The dark scruff on his cheek tickled her lips, and Titus' hands tightened along her back, as if he wanted to keep her there forever.


Hermione almost danced down the street. She'd never seen such a perfect day. Morning showers had wet the cobblestones, but the sunshine peeked out from behind the clouds. Hermione turned her face up, welcoming both the rain and the sun, wishing to be cleansed.

Her hands shook in her excitement, looking at all the people walking around her. Hermione wondered what it would be like to go to Diagon Alley whenever she wished without anyone accompanying her. No aurors trailing behind— not even with Theo— just walking by herself while meandering through the crowds on a summer day.

She sighed. They'd already bought books and ate lunch, and she feared their outing might be ending soon.

"Let's go get you some clothes," Theo suggested.

"I already bought new ones a few weeks ago."

"I insist. We might as well. What else is there to do?"

They took their time walking to Madam Malkins. Hermione wasn't in a hurry, enjoying the pleasant stroll. She watched the people around her as they laughed with their families, oblivious to her stares. The rare children giggled and played. The younger ones were held in the arms of a breeder or nanny, always alongside the wizard who claimed them or an auror.

Hermione followed Theo inside the shop as a bell signalled their entrance. A fat tom cat lazed next to the windowsill. Behind the counter, she could see a room filled with bolts of fabric in every colour and texture.

It took a few moments before the attendant arrived. She had a magical measuring tape in one hand and a sewing needle clenched in her teeth.

When she saw them, her eyes widened. She took out the needle and set down her measuring tape.

"Can I help you?" She sounded a little nervous.

"We were curious to see your newest dresses. I heard you had a new fabric made of acromantula spidersilk."

"Yes, of course, right this way. Follow me, Miss…"

"Hermione."

"Follow me, Miss Hermione. Mr. Nott can wait for you in the front while we proceed to the fitting room. Most of our newest displays are still in the back. "

Hermione glanced behind her, finding the woman's behaviour a little off. Theo had both his hands tucked into his pockets, and he gave a nod for her to continue.

How odd.

She walked behind the petite woman. She hadn't visited Madam Malkins much. Most of the time, someone came to the manor for her measurements, and then she ordered the clothes she liked in catalogues from Paris. Titus rarely spent his money at Madam Malkins, finding it too pedestrian.

Hermione entered the fitting room. Dark curtains lined the room in a circle. There was a raised dais in the centre for measurements and a long mirror in the corner.

"I didn't pick out—"

Hermione turned to find the attendant gone, and in her place stood a grinning Draco Malfoy.

Hermione took a step back in surprise.

"What are you doing here?"

"Didn't I promise that I'd find a way to see you again?"

He'd grown since the last time she'd seen him, towering over her, about the same height as Titus. He wore his hair parted on the side and combed in an attractive style. His broad shoulders were filled out more with muscle, jawline cut like marble, only offset by natural full lips. He resembled a man now, though if she looked close, she could see youth clinging to him.

She'd forgotten how attractive he was. And somehow in his absence, he'd become more so. It almost hurt to look at him.

Her whole chest swelled and then deflated. In December, she'd have been ecstatic to see the irritating prat— ecstatic about the potential rule breaking—but today she had too much to lose. And he did too. If Titus discovered she'd been alone with Malfoy again, he might not hold back. She imagined his pale body without a hand or lips, face scarred, beauty destroyed.

"I can't see you," Hermione said.

"What do you mean?"

"Titus forbids it. He—he found out about us. Right now, he only thinks we've kissed. I can't let him discover any more."

"How did he find out?"

Hermione could tell Malfoy the truth, but she remembered the way he'd marched forward with his wand to Zabini's forehead, telling him in a casual voice to crawl into a grave. Hermione suspected that Draco hadn't been bluffing with his threats.

Titus could possibly get away with murdering Blaise.

But could Draco?

"I don't know," Hermione answered. "He just found out."

Draco narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything

"I guess that's why he sent back my letter without giving it to you."

She'd worried endlessly that Titus would retaliate against Draco with violence. She still believed he would, probably waiting for the correct opportunity.

"I'm not scared of Titus."

"You really should be."

Her current dilemma: the only route to leave was behind Draco.

"Let me out."

Draco crossed his arms.

"Not yet. I had to use several bribes to get you here, and I'm not about to waste it because you've suddenly grown irrational."

Now it was Hermione's turn to narrow her eyes.

"It's not irrational. You don't know—he cut off someone's fingers!"

"Titus won't do anything to me, and we won't get caught."

Draco was cocky. Too cocky. Hermione feared it might bite him one day. He didn't know Titus like she did.

"At least one of us needs to be sensible. And that's clearly not you, so get out of my way."

She walked forward, intent on passing by him, but he grabbed her by the shoulders, yanked her up on the dais and twisted her around to view the mirror. He loomed behind her.

"You're going to stay right here until we talk this out." His grey eyes pierced her, and his hold loosened on her upper arm into something soft.

"Look, even if you're right, and he doesn't hurt you, he'd still lock me away again." Hermione tried to reason with him. "This is one of the first times I've been out of the manor since Christmas, and I can't mess it up."

Draco's expression was one she'd only seen him give to Blaise— a glare that promised danger. He tipped his chin down, eyes darkening with shadows.

"What the fuck do you mean?" His hands once again tightened on her shoulders.

"Exactly what I said. This is my first true excursion since Christmas."

He placed his lips close to her ear, while he stared at her in the mirror.

"Just hold strong until you want to start the Trials," he said. "Because then I'm going to set you free. You'll never be locked away again. No one will tell you what to do under my roof, not even me."

His lips brushed against the skin under her ear— a gentle kiss— and she groaned out loud, unable to hide the way the words tempted her. She held an agonising hope of a life without rules, and he dangled it in front of her like gold to a dragon.

She didn't believe him, but she closed her eyes, tilting her head to the side so he could taste her skin, and allowed herself to play pretend. His hands slid down her shoulders, tracing her hips, and bunched the fabric of her dress at her side.

"I plan to spoil you." He smiled against her throat. "The whole world will be yours to do with as you please. You'll be a queen."

She should stop his blatant, manipulative lies. Instead, she watched in the mirror as he lifted the voluminous fabric up, until it exposed her knees, then her thighs, and then her knickers. She wished she'd picked out a prettier pair, but Draco didn't seem to care. He panted against her neck at the sight of her bare skin, and she felt the heat of his hand as it entered the waistband of her knickers, dipping down.

"Tell me, Granger." He gave a pressured stroke along her clit and placed his lips against the shell of her ear. His other hand grabbed her throat, keeping her in a possessive hold pressed tight to him. "Tell me what you want."

His calloused fingers touched her with more confidence than the last time, and liquid heat pooled in her abdomen as he teased her. It was hard to think, but she was able to clear her head enough to shudder out a reply.

"Books—I want books."

"When school ends, we'll meet again, and I'll give you a whole stack."

Hermione groaned at his promise. His movements weren't perfect, sometimes brushing the wrong spot, but the fire burned so hot inside her, she didn't care.

More. She wanted more and more and more. She'd take whatever he gave her. A new dream arose in her built on his seductive lies.

"Books on the dark arts," she amended, testing him.

"Of course." His hand slipped further into her knickers, and he pressed two fingers inside her. When he moved, the palm of his hand rubbed against her clit, causing her to gasp.

"Right there," she demanded, grabbing his wrist to keep it in place, while she rocked forward, chasing her own pleasure. They looked obscene in the mirror, and she watched her own expression as she lost all sense of time and space, except for the pressure on her clit while his fingers filled her. She concentrated on his stare in the mirror, on his mercury eyes, pupils blown with lust.

Her head tried to tilt up to the ceiling in bliss, but the hand on her throat snapped up and grabbed her jaw, tugging her face so she looked back into the mirror.

"I want to see you."

"Malfoy," she groaned.

"Say that again."

"Malfoy," she cried out, and while leaning against him, she came on his hand. Her cheeks felt hot as her hips rolled into him.

When her orgasm finally ebbed, she was left boneless and panting, standing only with his support. Malfoy's hand slipped out of her knickers. She watched as he placed the wet fingers to his mouth, tasting her with a wicked grin.

"Besides the dark arts, what subjects do you want?"

Her brain felt like cotton, but the thought of books snapped her back to reality.

"Ancient Runes—focusing on older runic languages, to be specific. Maybe a few about obscure potions."

"Your wish is my command. I'll even bring a concealment bag that will make it easier to keep them hidden from Titus. It's an old family relic able to transfer objects across wards, though it can't transfer back and forth anything bigger than the bag, and it can't send anything living. I doubt even Titus would know about it. After you finish reading, you can send them back and highlight anything that you feel needs more explanation."

Hermione was still breathing hard, attempting to regain her equilibrium.

"Why are you okay with me learning?"

Draco paused and then pressed forward. The hard lines of his chest lined up against her back, and she felt his hard erection along her arse. She withheld the sudden gasp that wanted to exit.

"The sight of you using wandless magic hasn't left my mind. Why would I want to extinguish that?"

Hermione shivered under his heavy hands. Titus always tried to control her power, but if Draco was to be believed, he'd like to unleash it.

"What if I wanted an owl?"

He let her skirt fall and helped straighten it with a few tugs.

"When I promise anything, I mean anything. Make a list of everything you want in life. And don't be shy about it. Give me the most absurd things to do, see, or have. There are no limitations."

What bullshit. But the words were so pretty.

"The rules—"

"How many times do I have to tell you that the rules don't apply to me?"

Of course, they didn't.

Her heart beat funny under her ribs, to a tune she did not order. She didn't want to picture a future with Malfoy. She didn't want to hope for freedom.

Because if she didn't get it, the death of the dream might destroy her.

"I have a question."

"Hmm?" His fingers were crawling along the fabric of her dress again, feeling the outline of her body, skating over her curves.

"After the Trials—" she gasped when his hand reached up and cupped her breast, rolling his thumb across the thin fabric. Her nipples hardened under his touch. It almost distracted her. "After the Trials is there a ritual?"

"A ritual?"

Hermione nodded.

He pulled his hands back, considering her question.

"There's a binding spell. I'm not sure if it's given to every muggleborn, but every Malfoy bride has had one, and even though we won't be married, I doubt my father will let you be the exception."

"What does the binding spell do?"

"It prevents anyone from getting you pregnant except for me."

"That— makes sense, I guess. Is that all? I've heard rumours that it might be something else."

"Not that I've heard." His wicked expression had dropped into something pensive. "I can ask my father, if you want. He's been to several Trials, so he knows the routine. From what I know, after I win you, I can just— take you home."

The worry that had coiled around her heart for years slowly loosened. What Draco described didn't sound so bad. Lucius must have been referencing the binding spell. Maybe the women kicked and screamed on their way to their new home. The idea still made her ill, but it was better than what her brain imagined.

"I'll need to be leaving soon, or someone might get suspicious."

He snorted against her skin.

"Do you ever stop worrying?" He asked.

"Do you ever worry enough?"

"Not when I don't need to." He let his tongue run down her neck—stealing one last taste— and she felt the desire peak in her again. "Later, Granger. Be sure to masturbate to the thought of me again."

"Egotistical little— ugh, as if I'd—"

She twisted to shove him again for his audacity, but by the time she'd turned, he'd already given one last kiss to her cheek, a quick pat her arse, and then vanished out of the fitting room, leaving her reeling and alone.


Theo stopped her before exiting, looking her over. Her cheeks must still be flushed, though she attempted to cool herself down and erase all traces. By his expression, she failed at her task.

"I hope you're being careful," he said.

Her blush returned.

"Of course, I am."

He shook his head.

"I'll go ahead and order several dresses to make the cover real. The auror that Titus sent is stationed outside. He wants us to go back. Supposedly, there was a tip that Order members might be close. They're closing down all of Diagon Alley."

The thought of returning to the manor made her heart sink, but she pushed aside her dismay. She didn't want another attempted kidnapping.

They exited Madam Malkins. The day, once bright, descended into darkness as clouds gathered. Already, the air felt heavy and wet below the storm clouds.

"Apparation and floos are deactivated while we're patrolling the streets." The auror hurried them along. "I've been told to take you to the Leaky. The floo works from there and only there."

The crowd was thinner than before, absent of children. Everyone walked as if on a mission, head tucked down, eyes to the ground. Some people glanced furtively around as if monsters would pop out from the corner. Another auror joined them, standing on either side of her and Theo as they led them through the streets.

Hermione hurried along with them as Theo clutched her hand.

A man collided with her back, almost knocking her off her feet, but Theo had been clutching her arm like a life raft. A small piece of paper slipped into her left hand, and on instinct, she clutched it. Somehow, she managed to hold onto it while being jostled around.

She rightened herself as the aurors lunged and tackled the man to the ground.

"I'm sorry!" The man struggled to get away with both his hands up. "I didn't mean to." He trembled as the giant aurors levelled their wands in his face and proceeded to pat him down. "I promise," he pleaded. "I just wasn't looking where I was going."

Hermione should out him. The paper burned in her hand, but she crumpled it further.

The aurors searched him thoroughly, and only when they didn't find anything did they let him scramble up and give him back his wand.

"Next time, look where you're going," the auror spat. The man gulped and nodded without looking at her. "We'll remember your face."

The man scurried away. Hermione resisted the desire to stare.

"Are you all right?" One of the aurors asked her. "Did he hurt you? We can track him down for sufficient punishment if he did. Titus would kill us if you arrived with a single bruise."

She didn't know if he was exaggerating.

"No, I'm perfectly fine. Not a scratch." She let them examine her.

After being convinced she wasn't harmed, they began walking again. Hermione stashed the note into her pocket to look at later.


Two days later, Katie hugged her tight. If Hermione could cry, she'd be weeping.

"It'll be okay," Katie said, though there was a quiver in her voice. "Marcus isn't so bad. He kissed me a few weeks ago, and it wasn't terrible at all. All I need to do is knock out his teeth, so he can regrow them better, and I think he'd be rather handsome. His only true flaw is his taste in quidditch teams, but I plan to convince him of the merits of Puddlemere United. I refuse to raise my children as Falmouth Falcons fans."

Hermione tried to laugh at the way Katie attempted to lighten her fears, but her friend trembled in her arms.

Julie and the boys had left a few hours earlier, and Titus had allowed Katie to stay longer. Since then, they'd sat in the treehouse, talking about their future. Her friend looked around as if saying goodbye to her childhood.

"Are you scared?" Hermione asked.

"I'd be lying if I said no," she admitted. "I'm not looking forward to sex. My mistress warned me that the first time can hurt pretty bad."

"It can?" Hermione asked. No one had told her that. No one had told her anything, besides Katie, and Hermione wasn't sure how much to trust her knowledge. "Why would anyone want to do it if it hurts?"

Katie shrugged.

"Maybe witches and wizards only do it enough to get pregnant."

As always, Hermione understood there was a lot she didn't know, giant gaps that she struggled to fill. Maybe she should have asked Draco, if she hadn't been so distracted by his wandering hands.

Based on the women Titus brought over, and the noises they made, she doubted people only had sex for children. It must be pleasurable in some way. And the way Draco talked about sex made it seem fun. Maybe Katie was wrong about it hurting. The other things they did certainly never hurt her.

Hermione let go of her friend and dug inside her purse. She extracted a gleaming galleon.

"I charmed it," Hermione explained. "I wanted to make it send messages, so we could still talk, but that was more advanced magic and in books I couldn't access, though I know it's possible." She reached out and grabbed her friend's hand, putting the galleon inside her palm and closing it. "But I did manage to charm it to show your mood. If you want to see how I'm feeling, just close your fist around it and think of me."

Katie did as she asked, and then her eyes widened.

"It's warm."

"Yes, look at it."

Katie opened her palm, and the once golden galleon now glowed a faint blue.

"What does it mean?"

"I'm sad," Hermione said. "If it's green, it means I'm happy. If it's yellow, it means I'm sick. If it's red, it means I'm angry." Hermione hesitated. "And if it's black, it means I'm in intense pain, whether that's physical or emotional. It unfortunately reads the same for each. It was the best I could do. Maybe by the time the boys leave, I'll have made one that sends messages, and they can hand one off to you."

Katie's eyes glistened as she took in the old artwork tacked on the wall. The bugs in the terrariums. The small bookcase, now empty. The candles from their last practice still rested in a circle.

"I'll miss this." Like her, Katie wasn't one to weep, but Hermione understood she was close. "Maybe once you go through the Trials, Marcus will let me come back. We could have lessons and play quidditch games forever."

Hermione nodded, but even she didn't believe the lie. After the Trials, Katie might be pregnant. Muggleborns were expected to take care of the babies. Going off to school and hanging out with friends every day wouldn't be allowed. Today Katie was saying goodbye to everything— her whole world and all of her routines. When she left, there would be a giant hole in Hermione's life, one she couldn't fill with horses or dancing or art, no matter how much Titus tried.

"I can't wait to see you again," Katie said, stuffing the galleon in her pocket.

The words hurtled her back to when Theo left for school. It had been forever then, and it would be forever now—a swift, irreversible change in her life. Nothing could soften that cold truth.

Hermione waited until Katie left—after more hugs and false promises— before she let the depression drown her.


If you need help, come to Bromley House Library, Nottingham.

It said nothing else. But the words were bold and dangerous.

The note was sent by the Order. Even without a signature, she understood this. She should burn it, but every time her palm hovered over the fireplace, she hesitated.

Hermione didn't understand why she kept it. It's not like she'd ever leave. Not to mention, if she ever did run away, it wouldn't be to a terrorist group.

Though she'd be lying If she didn't consider the idea for a second, especially as the manor's walls closed in. Garner's words from deep in her past still haunted her. We'll get you a wand, and we'll train you how to use it.

She should still burn it, but she feared she'd forget what it said. Instead, she charmed it to look like a common piece of parchment and hid it under her floorboards, shoved inside the skin bound book.

The method they used to give her the note bothered her too. It resembled the way Dean initiated contact with Ollivander, and it made Hermione question whether the wandmaker was a part of the Order. It could be a coincidence, but she didn't think it was.

Hermione collapsed back into a chair. She'd been pacing for hours, knowing the first day of Katie's Trial was almost over. Titus was on the board of four judges, so she waited by the floo for him to come back, attempting to calm her worry. So far nothing had worked. Her heart beat hard and painful in her chest no matter what book she tried to read to distract herself.

If everything went to plan, Flint would win the first two Trials, and it would be done.

It went later than she expected. Hermione couldn't pry her eyes away from the hands inching along the white frame of the clock on the mantelpiece, turning in a never-ending circle.

Several hours past midnight, Titus arrived home. He had on his formal Death Eater robes, black mask in place, hiding his expression.

Hermione sprung from the couch and ran to him. When she got close, he opened his arms, and she fell into the offered comfort. The cold mask pressed against the top of her head.

"Tell me," she said.

"Flint won the first two trials. It's over."

Hermione let out a deep breath and sagged against him.

As much as she didn't like Flint, and as much as she didn't agree with the way he won—paying his way in— it was a relief to know everything was settled. Katie belonged to Flint.

"Is Greg all right?"

Titus hesitated.

"His father didn't allow him to attend or say goodbye. It was for the best. I'm sure Flint will let him visit soon enough." He squeezed her harder. "It won't be too long before you get to see her too. She's not gone forever."

Hermione wondered why they didn't allow breeders to interact with unclaimed muggleborns. Again, Hermione felt like she missed something important.

"Go get some sleep, Sprite. There's no need to worry for your friend. Flint will treat her right. I had a talk with him after the Trials."

"What do you mean?" Hermione pulled back and looked up at him. Sad blue eyes looked back down on her.

"I made sure to remind him of his responsibilities to Katie. He seems to care for her already, but the adjustment might be hard. She has a strong spirit like you do, so he needs to be patient."

Hermione reached up and took off his mask. His face looked a little red and sweaty, but he didn't stop her. She stood on her tip toes and placed a light kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you for looking out for her."

He placed his hand on her cheek and let it linger, brushing the edge of her jaw with his gloved thumb, and then he leaned down and kissed her forehead for a little longer than usual.

"Promise me you won't worry any more."

"Promise."


She broke her promise soon after.

Later, in her bed, she pulled out the galleon connected to Katie's. She'd forced herself not to check earlier, knowing it would only make her spare, but she didn't stop herself this time from wrapping her hand tight around the galleon.

Katie, her mind whispered, focusing all her thoughts on her friend until it warmed her palm.

Hermione opened her fingers.

The galleon was solid black.