Hermione and Draco left Narcissa and Sirius to argue over the wording of the complaint of injustice, opting to walk around the gardens instead. The white peacocks were indeed beautiful, and Hermione enjoyed seeing all the different blossoms and trees on the grounds. Despite the beauty, she found it hard to relax as they walked around. The Sirius Black issue continued to weight heavily on her mind.

She'd done the right thing, Hermione thought vehemently - she'd listened to him, verified his story, and taken him to the people who could help him go through the necessary legal and political steps. She had figured out a plan of action and carried out. It wasn't like she was abandoning him; she was leaving him with family.

Though, the way that 'family' had been bickering...

"Your mother will protect him, won't she?" Hermione asked, biting her lip. "I understand it's fine now because your father's not nearby, but when he gets home…"

Draco winced.

"My father… isn't likely to get along with Black," he said. "Black is probably going to do something stupid like call him a Death Eater, and my Dad's very sensitive about that kind of thing."

Hermione didn't say anything. Draco looked at her sideways.

"You don't think my Dad was a Death Eater, do you?" he asked her. "You heard the story from my Mum."

Hermione had to bite her lip, hard, to stifle her instinctive snort of disbelief.

"I wasn't there, Draco," she said. "I don't know what happened or didn't happen."

"Still," Draco pressed. "He's spent all this time trying to restore the family name—"

"Draco," Hermione sighed. She turned to look him in the eye. "Do you really believe your father was under the Imperius Curse?"

Draco faltered. "What do you mean?"

"Do you honestly, genuinely believe that your father was forced into serving the Dark Lord?" she asked patiently. "Or do you think it just might be a fancy lie your father used in order to escape Azkaban, a nice lie he used so his son wouldn't grow up thinking his father was a former terrorist?"

Draco paled, then grew angry.

"My father was not a terrorist!" he snapped. "You take that back!"

"I didn't say he was," Hermione said, raising her eyebrows. "I just asked you which you thought was more likely."

"Yeah, but you heavily implied it," Draco scowled. He shot her a sharp look. "What do you think?"

Hermione gave him a cool look, folding her arms.

"Do you honestly want to know what I think?" she asked. "Do you honestly want to know, knowing that I won't back down from it once I say it, and that I would absolutely thrash you in any sort of honor duel?"

Rage and frustration warred across Draco's face, and Hermione watched as he gnashed his teeth.

"They're both equally likely," he said finally, viciously. "You can't prove my Dad served him willingly. There was a trial."

"Yes, there was a trial," Hermione conceded. "With council members your father had undoubtedly bribed in advance."

"There was a Truth Circle!" Draco protested. "His testimony couldn't have had any lies!"

"It's easy to walk around the truth without telling a lie," Hermione said. "It's likely the Dark Lord put your father under the Imperius Curse at one point and forced him to do something he didn't want to, possibly for punishment or humiliation." She raised her eyebrows. "That alone would allow him to truthfully say 'I was under the Imperius Curse from the Dark Lord' as well as other vague true statements like 'just because I agreed with some of his politics doesn't mean I followed him'." Her smile was grim. "And with sympathetic questioners on the jury… before you know it, he could have been acquitted and freed."

"You can't prove that!"

Hermione shrugged. "No, I cannot..."

Draco looked fiercely triumphant for a moment, until Hermione continued.

"…but I have evidence that didn't come out at trial." She glanced at her classmate. "Evidence that I very strongly suspect would not have fallen into Lucius Malfoy's hands if he were being forced into the Dark Lord's service."

"You do not," Draco snapped. "What? What evidence do you have?"

Hermione sighed, biting her lip.

"I will tell you," she said slowly, "because I think you deserve to know the truth about your father. But Draco…" She sat down on a bench nearby in the garden, looking up at him plaintively. "Does it really matter to you?"

Draco scowled. "What do you mean, does it matter?"

"Does it matter to you if your father was a Death Eater or not?" Hermione asked calmly. "Does it really bother you if your father used to go out murdering muggles for sport?"

Draco's jaw dropped.

"How can you even say that?" he said, appalled. "How can you even say that, 'does it bother me'—"

"You thought muggles were like livestock, practically," Hermione pointed out. "You expected my parents to be dumb and mute, and you were astonished when they could converse like civilized people."

"I'd never met a muggle before!" Draco objected. "All I'd heard of was them during the witch trials—"

"You mocked the Muggleborns at school last year," Hermione said, raising her eyebrows, "telling them that they'd be next."

Draco looked frustrated. "That was different—"

"You continue to spout this nonsensical belief that purebloods are stronger than halfbloods, who are stronger than Muggleborns, when absolutely none of the evidence points to that," Hermione went on. "You've even repeated the Death Eater talking points before, saying how Muggleborns are 'stealing magic' from infant purebloods—"

"Magic is getting weaker," Draco said viciously. "It is. You can't deny it."

"Magic isn't getting weaker, wizards are getting weaker," Hermione snapped back. "And you know why that is. It's because they're cutting themselves off from Magic."

"Is that so?" Draco sneered.

"You know it's so," Hermione retorted. "I'm New Blood, with a direct line to Magic, and I'm the most powerful witch of my generation. Meanwhile, the Ministry and the government's been gradually cutting people off from the most powerful parts of magic, decrying them as 'Dark' or 'evil' just because they can't be controlled."

"You're exaggerating," Draco snarled.

"Draco, you did a ritual with me!" Hermione cried, throwing her hands up. "You felt the magic. You know the power we channeled. And you know it was more powerful than anything you've ever done with a wand!"

Draco hesitated. "Yeah, but that was special—"

"Was it?" Hermione challenged. "Draco, I have a coven. I cast ritual magic regularly. And let me tell you, it is fierce, it is raw, but it is not Dark. It is no more inherently Dark than using a wand is. Ritual magic can be used for good or for evil, but it's entirely neutral by itself."

Draco looked torn between skepticism and jealousy.

"But it's hard to be controlled," Hermione went on, emphatic. "The Ministry can decide what spells to teach or not to teach. Spell creation is long, grueling work, and often rather thankless, too. Students aren't likely to take to making their own spells to do whatever they want. But with rituals – it's so much easier, Draco, you have no idea. And that scares the Ministry. People who are powerful are harder to control."

Draco looked torn, frustrated.

"You're exaggerating," he said. "Why would the Ministry want that? Why would they want to be weaker themselves?"

"The institution evolves to protect itself?" Hermione guessed. "I don't know, Draco. Why did they ban celebrating the Magical Holidays?"

Draco faltered. "Hang on. They didn't—"

"They all but banned them, and you know it," Hermione snapped. "They're never taught, they're never mentioned, and if you mention them in public, you're regarded with open suspicion of being a Dark witch unless you're in very traditional pureblood circles."

"The Dark Lord sacrificed dozens of lives on some of those holidays, Hermione!" Draco hissed. "There's a reason people don't like them – he did a lot of Dark magic with the power of those days!"

"And could another person not do an equal or greater amount of Light magic?" Hermione challenged. "Last year, my coven and I did a ritual on Beltane that freed ghosts from this plane. An utterly Light necromancy ritual, that gave them the choice once again to move on to the next plane of existence. And we could do it because it was Beltane."

Draco was shocked. "You're joking."

"I'm not. Ask any of the ghosts at Hogwarts. Ask the Bloody Baron. We tied it to the wards – the pathway to the beyond should open up again at Beltane this year." She raised her eyebrows. "Where did you think Professor Binns got off to?"

"You exorcised him?" Draco's jaw dropped. "You didn't."

"He chose to move on," Hermione snapped. "But Draco, that's my point – the Ministry doesn't want you to know that that kind of power exists. They want a weaker populace. Weak people are easier to control."

"So you're claiming that Magic isn't getting weaker, it's wizards that are making each other weaker on purpose?" Draco looked angry, now. "How do you explain the hedgewitches, then? They're too weak to even go to Hogwarts."

Hermione laughed.

"Have you visited the hedgewitches recently?" she challenged. She grinned nastily, and Draco faltered.

"Uh, no. Why would I—"

"Be careful if you do." Hermione smirked. "You may find them not quite so weak as they were before, now that they've had their magical birthright restored to them."

"Their what? Hermione—"

"Lord Voldemort gave your father a piece of his soul to protect," Hermione told Draco, getting to her feet once more and dusting off her robes. "It's called a horcrux. It's an extraordinarily Dark object. It helped Voldemort stay immortal." Hermione fixed Draco with a look. "And I severely doubt Voldemort would have given one to someone who was unwillingly serving him."

Draco froze. What little color his pale face dropped, and he looked deathly white, shaking slightly where he stood.

"What?" he wanted to know. "Where did you hear such a thing? There's no proof! What are you—"

"A horcrux can possess people and make them do things," Hermione snapped. "Your father sent it to Hogwarts last year, and it possessed someone and made them open the Chamber or Secrets to attack the Muggleborns. Your father sent that to the school to deliberately hurt the Muggleborns, Draco."

Draco's eyes were wide.

"The cursed object at the trial," he said, his voice a whisper. "The one Moody wouldn't talk about. The one that was destroyed with the basilisk venom." His eyes flew to Hermione. "How do you know—"

"Draco," Hermione sighed. "Just… just talk with your father, alright?" She sighed. "Your father was a Death Eater, Draco. He signed up for it. And the sooner you acknowledge to yourself that you know that to be true, the sooner you can decide what you want to do about it."

"Do about it?" Draco echoed, and Hermione gave him a look.

"Well," she said pointedly. "Would you still want to follow in your father's footsteps or not?"

Draco's mouth fell open once more, and Hermione decided she was completely done with the conversation.

"I'm leaving," she informed him. "Goodbye."

She refused to go back through the Floo, to have Draco escort her back through his bloody Manor. Instead, with an unnecessary grand gesture with her arms, she rose up into the air, flying. For effect, a bit of magic channeled through her fire elemental gave her fireballs in her hands, creating a fiery halo as the wind whipped around her. It was very melodramatic, she admitted to herself, but Draco was a very melodramatic person himself.

"Good-bye, Draco," Hermione bid him. "I'll see you at school."

She didn't wait to see his expression; she flew off behind his manor as fast as she could, quickly vanishing from sight. As soon as she knew Draco couldn't see her anymore, she dropped the fire and flew closer to the ground, her eyes skimming the area for what she was looking for.

She found it in the sight of a few bonfires all lit around one place, and she landed a few minutes away, walking the rest of the way, hiking up her best robes. When she emerged in the glade, a dozen or so hedgewitches were all cooking in giant cauldrons, and they looked up in surprise at her arrival.

"Hello," she said, smiling. "Does any one of you happen to have a Floo?"

"Hermione?"

Hermione turned in surprise, recognizing the friendly hedgewitch bartender she'd come to know.

"Aurican!" she exclaimed. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"I was just off to The Yard," he said. He paused and raised an eyebrow, looking her up and down. "Want to come with? You look like you might need a drink."

Hermione considered.

"You know," she said. "A drink sounds absolutely lovely right about now."