Dinner was much more lighthearted than lunch had been, with the tension of the trial finally over. Daphne led the way to a restaurant near the intersection of Horizont Alley and Carkitt Market that had outdoor seating, where she promptly claimed a large table. They each ordered an actual dish to eat this time, chatting and talking while they waited. Draco had been put out when Blaise claimed the seat to Hermione's left again, but he sulked and sat a few over, across the round table from her so he could meet her eyes when conversing. Harry stayed close to her side, sitting again to her right, as if she could protect him from all the surrounding Slytherins by keeping her close.

Hermione was mildly surprised to see that Crabbe and Goyle had somehow gotten word and come along, joining the table near Theo and Draco, though they didn't add much to the conversation, busy stuffing their faces with rolls. Daphne and Millie took over the dramatic retelling, relating Moody's testimony, what Rhamnaceae had said, and the dramatic result at the end.

"It was only 'cause Hermione started arguing for her that Rookwood went free," Millie finished. "It was a close vote, and it was leaning toward guilty before she spoke up."

"You spoke for her to go free?" Blaise looked down and held her eyes, and Hermione shrugged.

"She's already been expelled, hasn't she?" she said lightly. "She doesn't deserve Azkaban for something that's not her fault."

"I beg to differ," Blaise said vehemently, fire burning in his eyes. "She almost killed you."

"Her and six others," Hermione reminded him. "And that was over a year ago. Another time, another crime."

Blaise looked like he would have very much preferred Rhamnaceae be flayed alive rather than go free regardless of which crime, and his face darkened as he sulked. "Fine."

"Hermione is merciful and kind," Tracey teased her, making Hermione's face flush. "Making sure the punishment matches the crime."

"She didn't need to go to Azkaban," Hermione objected, and Tracey laughed.

"I'm not disagreeing with you," she said, her eyes mischievous. "I'm just pointing out your kindness and mercy."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and Tracey and Millie laughed.

"You really shook a lot of people today," Daphne told Hermione. "After lunch, I heard them. The old families were all buzzing about you being New Blood and what it meant."

Hermione was surprised. "Were they really? I mean, I noticed all the staring."

"Hermione, you couldn't say you were a Muggle-born in the Truth Circle," Millie pointed out. "You could only call yourself 'New Blood'. That's a pretty big deal."

"But I've been saying I'm New Blood all along," Hermione argued. "It was in the paper. What makes this any different?"

"This time, the Sacred Twenty-Eight all witnessed your claim, which was verified by the magic in a Truth Circle established centuries ago," Daphne said, her eyes wide. "Hermione, to many people, this is their first proof of your claim."

Hermione wondered if that was a good thing or bad thing. She was only thirteen, really – was she really ready to have the Sacred Twenty-Eight fully aware of her claims of being a New Blood?

Well, either way, it was too late now.

"—going to get her elected as Youth Representative to the Wizengamot," Tracey was saying happily. "She's the Heroine of Hogwarts, after all, and the smartest in the class. And she's Slytherin – when's the last time a Slytherin student got chosen to represent us?"

"That's not a bad idea," Theo said, musing. "Generally, it's been whatever fool's made the most friends in the countryside, but Granger's gotten actual press. A lot of people know her, and if they don't know her, they at least know of her."

"We get to vote?" Harry asked, surprised. "Do we need to register or something?"

"No, you just come and vote," Daphne said. "There will be an Unspeakable there who will check your magic to verify your age, but that's all."

"Gross," Draco said, making a face. "That's invasive. Can't we just use our wands?"

"Not everyone has a wand," Theo chided, and Hermione's eyebrows went up.

"Wait, what?" she asked. "What do you mean, not everyone who can vote has a wand? I thought it's all youth between ages 11-17."

Theo looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "It is…?"

"Then how don't they all have wands?" Hermione said. "They're required for classes. Are you talking about the ones who are eleven but haven't started Hogwarts yet?"

Theo's eyes lit with understanding.

"Not all wizarding children go to Hogwarts," he clarified. "Many of them stay home and learn from their parents, especially the children of the hedgewitches. Some of them even go to muggle school, I think."

"Wait, what?" Hermione gaped at him, incredulous, but Theo only looked slightly puzzled. "You're telling me that there are children my age not getting an education?" Hermione demanded, clarifying. "Why aren't they going to school?"

"Most of them don't have the magical power necessary to learn the magic we do in class, Hermione," Daphne said. Her eyes shone with pity. "It's a sad reality. Some bloodlines are just weaker than others."

Hermione scoffed. "That's ridiculous. Magic and power is a product of practice, not of blood or birth—"

"Says the one who's the most magically privileged among us," Theo said testily. "Not everyone's got a direct line to Magic itself, Hermione."

"How dare you!" Hermione whirled around on Theo, livid. "I have had to work for everything I've accomplished! I go to classes and practice just the same as you—"

"Yeah, and it all comes easier to you, doesn't it? You barely need to practice, you get everything right on the first time—"

"Let's not bicker about how Hermione's so much smarter than the rest of us," Harry loudly interrupted, cutting them off. He gave the table a self-deprecating smile. "I get that quite enough when she helps me with my homework. I certainly don't need it over the summer."

There was a chuckle around the table, and Theo and Hermione settled down, both looking at each other with sharp eyes as they settled into a tentative peace.

"…putting her up for election is a good idea, though," Theo said finally. "Any ideas how to go about it?"

"I can help file the paperwork to nominate her, if it works like that?" Draco said. "I know my way around the Ministry fairly well, and people aren't likely to stop me or ask what I'm doing there or get in my way."

"Are you going to go alone, or will get your Daddy to go along with you?" Blaise smirked, and Draco scowled and sneered at him.

"I don't need my Father to help me file paperwork, you imbecile—"

"Can you still get your father to get me approved to sell Class-B Nontradeable Goods, Draco?" Hermione interrupted. "I still have all these basilisk parts I'd really like to get rid of."

"Oh!" Draco's face cleared, and he cleared his throat. "Ah, yes. I'll—I'll remind him about that. I think he wanted to wait until after the trial…"

"That could potentially help finance the campaign," Tracey mused. "Oh! Or we could get your photo taken whenever you get basilisk-skin robes! That would certainly be dramatic and make a statement."

"I don't know," Daphne mused. "It's such a bright green, isn't it? Not very sophisticated at all…"

Conversation suddenly quieted and drained away, and Hermione looked up to see everyone looking out to the street. Hermione turned and squinted, before her eyes widened in surprise.

Pansy Parkinson was approaching the table, slowly, hesitantly. Her eyes scanned the table, seeing all of her Slytherin classmates sitting there except for her, and Hermione could practically see Pansy's heart in her throat.

She reached the table and nervously cleared her throat.

"I, um," she said. "I wondered if I might join you to dine."

Pansy's normal snide confidence was gone, and Hermione was shocked to hear the docile tone of voice Pansy used. It was like the sharp girl she knew had been replaced with a waif of who she once was.

"Oh, now you want to be Hermione's friend?" Millie snorted. "After it's been outed that you helped try to kill the only New Blood in centuries?"

"I didn't know it could kill her!" Pansy protested. "I didn't—I didn't know! And I didn't believe—I mean, I thought you were—"

Pansy faltered, her eyes on Hermione, and Hermione watched her neutrally. Pansy took a deep breath and straightened herself up.

"I was wrong," she said flatly. "I should not have attacked Hermione Granger, and I am sorry."

Tracey gave Pansy a skeptical look. "You're 'sorry'? For nearly killing her? Is that really enough?"

"Well then what is enough?!" Pansy threw up her hands in frustration. "I'm trying to apologize and make up for my actions. You don't have to throw my apology back in my face!"

"I will if I don't believe it," Tracey snarled.

"Then how am I supposed to make sure you believe me when I say I'm sorry for all of it?" Pansy demanded. "Do we have to go back and have me stand in the Truth Circle? Do we need to steal Veritaserum? Because I am—"

"Make a vow," Goyle said suddenly.

The table stopped bickering and turned to Goyle, who was sucking the remaining meat off a chicken bone.

"What?" Hermione asked, looking at Goyle.

Goyle slurped the rest of the meat down and swallowed.

"Make a vow," he said simply. "Put your magic where your mouth is."

The others all exchanged slow glances around the table. Hermione was dismayed to see it seemed that the others actually seemed to be considering this as a viable option.

"Are you serious? Pansy doesn't need to swear an apology on her magic," Hermione said incredulously. "That's completely—"

"Yeah, that doesn't really mean anything," Tracey cut in. "She should really make a vow. Show us that she really means it."

Hermione choked. "Wait, what?"

"Exactly." Millie's eyes glittered. "An Oath of Fealty. An Oath of Loyalty at the least."

"No one is making oaths to me," Hermione protested. "We are not doing this."

"I'd say Loyalty," Blaise cut it. "Pansy has to earn the right to swear fealty and have Hermione protect her in exchange."

Pansy looked determined. "I'll do it."

This was insane. How had things devolved to this so fast?

"I am not currently accepting Oaths of Fealty," Hermione argued.

"It's an Oath of Loyalty," Tracey countered. "It's different."

"And when will you?" Blaise challenged. "I call first in line."

"Wait, what?" Draco sputtered. "No, I said long ago—"

"No one is swearing any oaths!" Hermione protested. "Pansy said she's sorry. We can just forgive her and have her join us."

The others looked at Hermione skeptically.

"Hermione, you just said in a Truth Circle how she ensnared you in a plot where you nearly died," Daphne told her, her eyes shining. "You cannot just forgive an enemy for something like that. They must prove they have changed."

Hermione drew breath to protest, but Pansy beat her to it.

"She's right, Granger." Pansy's eyes met hers. "I do. It's what's right."

"To swear loyalty to your enemy?" Hermione said, incredulous. "What kind of sense does that make?"

"The kind where it proves that I'm not your enemy anymore," Pansy pointed out. "Isn't that the point? You wouldn't dine with a known enemy, so making me prove it is what makes sense, Granger."

Hermione was perfectly content to dine with Pansy knowing she probably still hated her and was only here trying to play nice because she'd been punished by her father in court, but apparently now that they were 'known enemies', that wasn't possible anymore.

Hermione sighed.

"Are we really doing this?" she asked. "Are we really making her swear an Oath to join us at the table?"

Hermione looked around, but as she scanned the faces of her friends, no one save her seemed bothered by it at all. Most of the faces she saw seemed expectant, and only Harry seemed confused and hesitant. Hermione turned to look at Pansy, but she was met only with fierce determination in her eyes. Hermione held her eyes for a long moment before she stood.

"If we're going to do this, we might as well do it properly," she said, brushing out her robes. Pansy hurriedly brushed out her own and stepped in front of her, looking at her somewhat anxiously.

"Doesn't she need a sword?" Crabbe asked, and Goyle elbowed him.

"No, that's Fealty, Loyalty only needs just you…"

Hermione watched as Pansy knelt on one knee in front of her, taking Hermione's hands in her own.

"I, Pansy Parkinson, swear to you my loyalty," she told her, her voice steady. "I will not deceive you, nor shall I try to harm or hinder your aims. My arm is your wand, my eye your scout, and my body your soldier. I swear this on my life, my magic, and my honor."

Blue sparks spiraled around them, swirling around Pansy and Hermione both, and as Pansy pressed her lips to the back of Hermione's hand, they coalesced into a blue ribbon of bright magic, binding the two of them together before disappearing in a blaze of light.

Pansy gasped, as did Hermione, and their eyes met with shock and something akin to horror. There was something there, now – Hermione could feel it. She could feel the ribbon of magic binding Pansy to her. If she tugged on that ribbon of magic, Pansy would come to her, she thought – she'd practically be forced to, though the ribbon only seemed taut one way.

Swallowing hard, Hermione helped Pansy to her feet. The smaller girl stumbled into her as she stood on the cobblestones, and Hermione caught her, holding her gaze. Pansy's eyes shone with emotion and leftover anxiousness.

"Though I will not swear an oath back to you now," Hermione said quietly, "know that I will not abuse your loyalty, Pansy. You will be safe with me."

Impulsive, she pressed a kiss to Pansy's forehead before stepping back from her, returning to her seat.

"Pansy, come dine with us," she bid, trying to act like a regal and gracious host. She offered her a smile. "You are welcome at any table of mine."

The gratitude with which Pansy scurried to the table, pulling up a chair next to Daphne, made Hermione's heart ache. She watched as conversation resumed, her friends returning to brainstorming campaign slogans and platforms, and the relief and happiness that began to sparkle in Pansy's eyes over time slowly helped Hermione relax as well.

Pansy had been rather isolated, hadn't she, Hermione mused. Ever since the 'scandal' of her troll blood, Daphne had grown more distant from Pansy, and Pansy had been made to hang around Draco and Theo more instead, as well as the older girls. But with her ire towards Hermione, the rest of her dormmates had been quietly isolating her and slowly shunning her. And with the revelation of what Pansy had done being out in the open, on a legal record, no less…

No wonder Pansy had been desperate to make amends.

Hermione toyed with her food as she ate it, musing, until Blaise caught her eye and smirked.

"You handled that well," he told her quietly, and Hermione flushed.

"I didn't have much of a choice," she said hotly. "Everyone was so insistent."

Blaise laughed, his voice quiet and low.

"Hermione, I'm not criticizing," he told her. "If anything, I'm jealous. I wanted to be the first to make an oath to you, after you stopped me all those months ago."

Hermione gave Blaise a puzzled look.

"Blaise, you don't need to swear an oath to me," she said.

"I know, but I want to, Hermione," Blaise said, his eyes dark and intense. "I know you don't understand it, but I would mean the words in an Oath of Fealty—"

"Blaise, listen to me." Hermione took his hand in hers, her eyes meeting his. "You don't need to make an oath to me because you already did, you realize?"

Blaise faltered. "…wait, what?"

Under the table where the others couldn't see, Hermione turned his hand over in her own, playing idly with his fingers and his hand.

"I share with you my magic," she murmured, her voice quiet, "I share with you my life. I offer myself in times of joy, I offer myself in times of strife."

Hermione continued tracing her fingers over his palm and fingers with her words. Blaise shuddered slightly underneath her, and Hermione wondered what was going through his mind.

"I trust you to call on my power, and my magic will respond…"

She twisted the coven ring on his finger sharply, making him gasp, and her eyes held his own.

"I give myself to the coven and to the strength of our bond."

Blaise shuddered and Hermione shivered suddenly too, a feeling of sparks flooding her body. Next to her, Harry startled in his seat as if he felt something too, before settling down. Hermione shook her head, clearing it, only to find Blaise watching her with dark eyes.

"I made a promise to the coven," Blaise said. His eyes were glittering at her, and there was something about his voice, something that made it darker, more intense, like velvet on silk. "Not a vow to you."

"I'm part of the coven, though," Hermione pointed out, "so it was a vow to me as well."

"Still…"

Draco and Tracey were bickering about campaign slogans. Tracey was advocating for 'Tired of danger? Vote for Granger!', while Draco was advocating for 'A vote for Hermione is a vote for sanity'. As they fought, Blaise reached over, taking Hermione's hand in his own under the table. He traced her fingers with his own, making her shiver.

"Stop that," she hissed, and Blaise smirked at her.

"You did it to me," he said. "It's only fair…"

Hermione hmphed at him, turning back to the conversation and her plate, but Blaise was playing with her left hand still, tracing his fingers over her own. It sent tingles through her palm and up her arm. How were there suddenly so many nerve endings in her hand?

"Our bond is sacred, formed in perfect love and perfect trust," Blaise murmured, running his fingertips over her fingers. "Let my intentions be pure, none of them unjust…"

Hermione swallowed hard. "That's not the right words…"

"As we join hands, we become pure magic unfurled…" Blaise's eyes were dark, his gaze holding hers as he clenched her hand in his own. "With our bond as your strength, you can change the world."

"It's supposed to be plural," Hermione protested, but her words were weak against the intensity in Blaise's eyes.

"I share with you my magic, I share with you my life," he promised, his voice low, his eyes on hers. "I offer myself in times of joy, I offer myself in times of strife."

This didn't feel like the coven bond. This felt like something else, something bigger, something heavier, and Hermione found her breath catching, making it harder to breathe.

"I trust you to call on my power, and my magic will respond…" Blaise's voice was low, his eyes holding hers as he spun the coven ring on her finger, and Hermione gasped at the sensation, an odd shudder running through her body. She tried to catch her breath, but his eyes were on hers as he bent to press his lips to her hand, kissing her and the ring both.

"…I give myself to you and to the strength of our bond."

Hermione gasped, her hand suddenly clamping down on Blaise's, hard.

Whatever he had done, whatever he had promised… Blaise's words had sent magic thrumming through her body, setting it alight, and Hermione gasped and shuddered as the magic danced inside of her, waves of sensation and magic crashing over her body, her eyelids fluttering.

It felt incredible.

As the magic settled, Hermione catching her breath, she felt cleansed somehow, a warm feeling curling in her chest. She looked up at Blaise, who was watching her with dark eyes.

"Are you happy now?" she asked. Her voice was rather breathier than she'd intended. "Are you satisfied now that you've made your vow?"

Blaise's eyes were dark and molten on hers. "I am."

There was something there that made her breath catch, something that made her heart thump in her chest. He looked almost like he wanted to kiss her, like he wanted to consume her and never let her go, and the intensity was captivating, making Hermione feel like she just wanted to let go and fall into him…

"Hermione, we need a tie breaker!" Tracey's whine broke through the intensity between them, and Hermione blinked several times, turning back to the center of the table.

"Err, a tie breaker for what?" she asked.

"Campaign slogans!" she chirped. "Here, this is mine—"

As Hermione rejoined the bickering around the table, she managed to relax and enjoy the time with her friends, but something warm and dark stayed curled and hot around her heart and center, something that seemed to flare back to life every time Blaise's gaze met hers, his gaze blowing on the embers and setting them aflame.