A/N: There's a bit of a POV skip a couple times here to maintain continuum. So for anyone confused its Hermione - Draco - Hermione. Also we're introducing a fan favourite character here, and I'd love to hear your opinions on *wink wink*

Chapter 4; Marble Masks and Flashing Lights

Malfoy's retreat just as he turned the corner, left a lingering taste of metal in mouth as she realized she'd begun chewing on her lips. A bad habit that had taken her a long time to kick.

Cursing aloud, she summoned bandages and cleaning spirits to tend to her arm. She ought to have gotten used to it by now but the pain persisted, a reminder that some wounds, like memories, resisted fading. It stung as she jumped, willing herself back to the task of cleaning it up before she got to applying the ointment Madame Pompfrey had recently sent her.

And when she was done, Hermione waved her wand at the wall clearing out the tapestry that she'd purchased for the sole purpose of hiding her pinboard in all its chaotic glory. And with a contemplative thought and scrunched brows, she added a new news paper clipping from the Quibbler. "The Disgraced Malfoy's quiet return back to England".

Hermione took a step back as if to admire her handiwork except that there was nothing to admire.. for now at least. Everything was a jumble of haphazard clippings and disorganized threads that led nowhere. But not for long, she vowed.l even as the beady eyed Malfoy's sneered at her from their place on her board. It must've been taken years ago, Draco looked so.. young in it. Boy-ish. Charming even, with a faint smile twinging at his lips, if she were to forget the fact that he'd been her biggest bully in school- She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Whatever was going on she was going to get to the bottom of it.

The clock's shrill ring of the hour brought her back to attention. With another wave of her wand she vanished the board and her tapestry flew up to take its place on her wall. Just in time, to the sound of a rapt knock on her door.

Hermione plastered a smile on her lips as Ginny opened the door impatiently not waiting for her to get to it before brandishing a bottle of Cabernet into her arms bear hugging her friend. "So, how was Ireland?!" she questioned and the ginger headed ex sister-in-law of hers who'd grown to be more of her friend launched into a tale about a leprechaun hunt, Quidditch games, and how she thought her broom was cursed by the end of it all.

Ginny's laughter and Harry's anecdotes filled the room as dinner unfolded, the clinking of cutlery a symphony of ordinary moments. Yet Hermione remained ensnared on something else, her mind a swirling vortex of a certain someone's presence on her pinboard. She swirled her Cabernet Sauvignon as its intense rich profile hit her nostrils. Hermione downed what remained in her glass in one go.

"Hermione!" Harry Potter called from the top of the staircase that led to the basement, as his girlfriend recalled her tale.

"Hmm?"

"Your wards around here look wonky for some reason. Want me to take a look?"

"Yeah, sure go for it." she walked over to the stairs, hoping Malfoy hadn't left much of a mess of her makeshift- rather ingenious if she may say so herself- prison of sheets. "It's nothing just Crookshanks keeps bringing his tabby friends around." the lie rolled off her lips smoothly. Hermione wondered why she was hiding it from her best friend in the first place but just the thought of having to explain to Harry Potter that his mortal enemy, Draco Malfoy had been tied up in her basement after he'd Apparated into her home along with her. A shudder went through her spine at the absolute over reaction that would surely ensue from the two of them.

"Hermione um, listen." Harry started as he took a break from re-weaving the strands of the Protection Charms that had come undone. "Ron is with Lavender," Harry disclosed, his gaze a mirror reflecting compassion and worry towards her. "I just thought you should know before the Burrow visit."

"Oh." her voice came out rather inflated, her eyes betraying the unexpected pang in her chest. "Well, that's eh.. good for him I guess."

"So, you're okay with it?"

"Sure." she replied. "Why not? I mean it's been long enough. He deserves to find someone who'd make him happy."

"I always thought you could do better, Mione. In fact, I'm sure everyone we know would agree." he offered. She knew she wasn't fooling him with the nonchalance but if she knew anything about Harry it was that he wouldn't press on something unless it was absolutely necessary. He'd let her come to him in her own time and right now, that was exactly what Hermione needed. Time.

"I know." she replied with a smile that stretched too far out on her lips to be anything genuine. And so when she excused herself to her room under the pretext of grabbing her clutch, she took a minute to steady herself. The wedding ring sat heavy on her finger. It was a dainty white gold thing with an oval ruby in a princess setting and a matching wedding band to go. It was pretty. She had loved it, once upon a time. And when they had decided to separate, and opted to a quiet divorce, both Hermione and Ron had decided that they'd keep the charade on least for a year wherein which they'd both gradually slow down on public appearances, and society events to keep rumors to the minimum. Especially when there was so much more work to be done. It helped that his Auror assignments kept him out of London most of the times anyways. And then there was the disciplinary issues where she'd played the dutiful wife sticking to his side through the scandals of his own actions. She'd agreed to it because she felt she was part of the reason for him going off the rails. But.. memories of it all now only made her sick.

Staring at herself in the mirror, Hermione once again felt the weight of the world come crashing onto her frail shoulders. The wedding ring, a symbol of her history with Ron, their friendship, their love, now felt burdensome. In a heartbeats moment of impulsive clarity, she removed it, the cool air of liberation echoing in the silence.

With newfound resolve kindling in her eyes, she reached for her clutch, prepared to step out. The door creaked softly in her wake as she departed, behind her shedding all symbolic ties that held her back. Or least, she'd give it a try.

The air hung heavy with anticipation, a suffocating shroud that enveloped him as he donned his marble mask, his movements deliberate and calculated. The opulent surroundings offered little solace to Draco Malfoy who lifted his wine glass, bringing it close to his nose with a swirl as the scent of it, unadulterated and pure, offered a momentary reprieve from the tension that coiled within him like a viper ready to strike. He lifted the glass to his nose, inhaling deeply, reassured by the absence of any foul odor. Great he thought, it wasn't poisoned. Not that any would be stupid enough to poison him, of all people.

His gaze wandered over the assembled crowd, their identities shrouded behind masks of marble and silk not dissimilar to his. Yet for one as perceptive as Draco, the disguises were little more than a facade. From the subtle slump of one's shoulders to the delicate tilt of another's head. From the way one slouched, to the way another held her cup of wine, he could easily discern the identities of most around him. Gregory Goyle might have lost all that weight he'd gorged himself onto during their schooling days, but his once bulky frame now distinctively diminished almost rendered him impossible to recognise upon first glance, but Draco could easily say it was him by the not so subtle signet ring on his little finger. Still the moron then, he rolled his eyes.

At that, thoughts of Vincent Crabbe's gory demise crept into Draco's mind,as his hands clenched into fists at the thought of the role he'd played in it. But he pushed aside the memories, the guilt and regret, refusing to dwell on the past. No, he wasn't going to permit himself think of things long passed. Things he could not change. He tore his gaze away from Goyle, only to almost immedietly find himself drawn to another figure weaving through the throng.

Draco's breath caught as he watched the man weave his way through the crowd. The gait with which this person held himself was all too familiar. The careless tilt at which he swirled his wine glass. Slouched as his masked face turned around carelessly as if with not a care in the world. The subtle limp in his step. The man navigated the crowd with an air of nonchalance, as Draco's chest clenched with a mixture of resentment and curiosity. Theodore Nott. And Theodore Nott was speaking to the man who was his victim of the night. The man whom his father suspected almost sold them out to Hermione Granger. Draco stopped in his path even as he was halfway to them.

The room fell silent as the immense doors groaned open, admitting the Sovereign into their midst. Her black robes billowed behind her like a cloak of darkness, her presence commanding attention and respect. Draco's gaze flickered to her, his mask betraying none of the turmoil that churned within him.

The Sovereign's voice rang out, amplified by magic and every bit commanding, cutting through the murmurs of the assembled crowd. "How great it is," she began, her tone rich with authority, "to at long last see us all gathered together today. Despite all differences, united in our goal."

Her words resonated in the air, a rallying cry that echoed off the marble walls of the dark chamber. Despite the tension that lingered beneath the surface amongst her audience, there was a palpable sense of anticipation, of shared purpose that bound all in the room together, if only for this rather fleeting moment. Many, their purposes varying united to a goal. The goal that was once two hundred years ago accomplished. And so it would be again, least if the Sovereign had any say in it.

Cheers erupted among the crowd, but Draco remained aloof, his attention fixed on the figure of the Sovereign in cold calculation instead.

"And we are close to it, very close indeed," the Sovereign proclaimed, "Soon, the wait will be over and your patience rewarded."

"But yet," the Sovereign continued, her gaze piercing as she singled out Draco among the crowd. "There are those among us who question my leadership, who doubt my competence."

Draco met her gaze with steely resolve, his lips pressed into a thin line behind his mask as she gracefully, like a black swan, made her way to him.

Her mask was black laced with crystals and feathers only the red of her lips and the porcelain skin of her lower jaw visible. With a start he realized despite his connections with the woman over the years this was the most skin he'd seen of her. She moved close, closer than he was comfortable with as he fought every fiber of his being to not twitch away. He held still while she leaned even closer, her lips to his ear.

"Is it done, my executioner?" the Sovereign whispered, her voice a low murmur that sent shivers down Draco's spine and no doubt called attention to him that he was sorely trying to avoid.

He hesitated for a moment, the weight of her words pressing down on him like a leaden cloak. But then he straightened, to turn to her his resolve hardening as he met her gaze head-on.

"It is," he replied, his voice barely a whisper as he acknowledged his role in the unfolding drama.

And even as he said so the man with the snake tattoo at Theodore's side convulsed and fell to the floor. No one moved. Not one soul, even as the man frothed at his lips. Not until it all eventually slowed to a stop.

Draco stood tall. He knew that his fate was sealed, a long, long time ago his allegiance pledged to a cause that would demand everything from him, body and soul. But right now, in this moment, Draco felt an inexplicable wave of exhaustion wash through him. What was he even doing?

The game box's door swung open, ushering the trio into a maelstrom of wizarding excitement. The aroma of butterbeer and the lively chatter of patrons melded seamlessly with the ambient energy of the Quidditch match. But for Hermione Granger, the vibrant atmosphere failed to penetrate the fog of her troubled thoughts as her eyes glazed over everything. People stepped up to them, eager to get into the ears of the future leaders of the Wizarding World, but before any could intervene, Ginny steered them to their corner seats, an elevated deck shielded by a Silencing Charm.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

Ginny, ever perceptive, shot Hermione an assessing look. "Harry spilled the beans, didn't he? About Ron and Lavender?"

Hermione sighed, the weight of the revelation pressing on her. "Yeah, he did. I thought I was prepared, but it hit harder than I expected."

Ginny patted her hand sympathetically. "Men can be insufferably oblivious sometimes. Harry just blurted it out without considering how it might affect you."

"I suppose," Hermione replied, swirling the remnants of her drink. "I didn't realize I'd feel this way, like a piece of my past slipping away."

Harry returned his hands full of butter beer bottles, sensed the somber atmosphere, just as Ginny punched him on his side, "I'm sorry, Hermione. We should've been more tactful."

Hermione managed a weak smile. "It's okay. Let's enjoy the Quidditch match. It might take my mind off things."

Even as they focused on the game, the lively atmosphere did little to lift Hermione's spirits. She kept stealing glances at the swirling patterns in the sky, finding herself lost in thought. The pain of letting go, even when it was the right thing to do, lingered like an unwelcome guest.

Ginny grabbed her hand, her eyes glistening in understanding. "Let's forget the game. The night is young, and so are we. How about we go out and have some fun? This is painful to watch anyways."

Eager to escape, Hermione smiled in agreement. So when they exited the pub, reality hit them like a blinding spell. The harsh flashes of cameras and the cacophony of paparazzi erupted around them quickly transforming the seemingly mundane street into a chaotic battleground of light and noise so much so that she had to shield her eyes against the blinding flashes, while Harry and Ginny navigated through the throng. Her first thought was her ring finger. Oh no! she had time to think and almost intuitively Ginny grabbed onto her hand enveloping it in hers. She flashed her a grateful smile.

The weight of numerous eyes on her, was relentless, their cameras flashing like overzealous fireflies. The air charged with the paparazzi's buzzing anticipation, and a barrage of questions assaulted Hermione.

"How is Ron, Hermione?" one journalist shouted, aiming to be heard over the chaos. "We haven't seen you together in sometime!"

"Is everything okay in your marriage?"

"Mr. Potter, leaving so early? Is the game that bad?"

"Hermione! How true are the rumors we hear that you've been promoted in the Ministry?"

Hermione gritted her teeth, attempting to maintain a composed facade. She raised her wand subtly, casting a temporary silencing charm around her, enough to drown the prying questions without attracting more attention.

She cursed under her breath, the frustration evident on her face. Her breath was now coming in heaving bouts. She usually handled them much better but this past year had been.. difficult. In between the three of the Golden Trio, it was surprisingly Ron who had turned out to have a flair for the spotlight. And with him having been her rock for so long, Hermione had felt lost. The intrusive cameras probed into every corner, attempting to capture even the tiniest sliver of their lives not caring of what it did to them.

She was thankful for Ginny still holding her hand, undeterred, pulling Hermione closer, while Harry created a protective barrier against the relentless assault of the press.

"Where's Ron?" a journalist shouted above the clamor, thrusting her wand surely cast with a recording spell towards her. But it was Harry who interrupted this time, doing fairly better than Hermione at maintaining composure, "Ronald is presently on Ministry business, and with the way we played today, I think he's in a much better position than me."

"Are you and Ron headed for a divorce?"

Harry smirked, swiftly grabbing the journalist's wand mid-air. "Well, Ron and I are just navigating the tricky maze of married life. In fact, we're adding a magical touch to it, auditioning for a reality show called 'The Amicable Wizarding Divorce Chronicles.' Ratings are soaring, you should tune in."

"Mr. Potter! Is there a marriage proposal on the horizon for you and ?"

Harry chuckled, deflecting the question smoothly, "Oh, least wait for my divorce from her brother!"

Ginny, her patience wearing thin, snapped, "Alright people, that's enough! We're still entitled to some privacy y'know."

While that seemed to quell the crowd up a bit Hermione couldn't escape the unwarranted attention. The questions, like invisible daggers, pierced through her. "Let's apparate." Ginny squeezed her hand. And so they did, landing at a quaint side street where the relentless flashing subsided. In the relative calm, Hermione leaned against a wall, exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"I hate this," she muttered, running a hand through her hair. "I never signed up for constant scrutiny."

Ginny shot her an empathetic look. While Harry nodded his head in his arms. The flashing lights were enough to give anyone a headache, "It comes with the territory, especially when you're in the public eye. But we'll get through this." He straightened up. "Tonight is about fun and distraction."

As they walked further away from the buzzing main street, the noise of the paparazzi faded into the distance as they found a quieter venue, a hidden gem in Muggle London as laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses replaced the intrusive hum of the press and Hermione gladly stepped in. A modicum of normalcy is exactly what she needed right now.

Except that not even a moment later, Hermione felt the wind knocked right out of her as squealing voice was screeching her name out loud much to Ginny's chagrin.

"Parvati!" she laughed embracing an old friend. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, it's date night and.." Parvati blushed at that as she tucked a strand of her long luscious raven hair that Hermione caught herself being jealous of on more than a few occasions, behind her ear. "well, Theo prefer we finish up at a Muggle Bar, it's just.. easier you know." And she knew, her mind going to another Slytherin she'd just met. His words about their self imposed exile came back to her and for a moment she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at how she'd treated him. Not that he did not deserve it if only as retribution for his bullying over the years, but surely she was better than him wasn't she?

"Theo.." Ginny joined in, "As in Theodore Nott? The damn Slytherin!" she grinned as Hermione tapped her arm with a glare.

"No," Ginny giggled, "it's just funny that it's Parvati of all people I mean remember-"

"Ladies, if I may interrupt," Potter cut through their gossips and Parvati's intense blushing, "let's move this to somewhere that's not in the middle of the bar shall we?"

"Oh no," Ginny whispers even as Hermione catches the distinct glare of a camera going off.

"Well," Theodore joins them, his tone carrying a subtle disdain, "It seems you've brought along some unwanted parasites." His eyes flicker towards the intrusive paparazzi. Theodore was no stranger to the papz, being exposed to them from a young age, being a part of one of the more elite of the Sacred Twenty Seven families and especially given his mother's rather scandalous reputations that often keep her in the mentions of Witch Weekly.

So turning his attention to the group, he suggests, "If you'd prefer a more private setting, my family's Manor is not far from here."

Ginny, ever the mischief-maker shot her a glance before she smirks at Parvati, the latter blushing furiously. "Yes, I think that's a splendid idea. Lead the way, Theodore."

A/N: So.. what do we think about Theo so far? The review box is open and I'm dying to hear your comments, theories and ideas on this so far! Have a great weekend folks :3