Nest of Vipers

------

Social customs changed very little during the transition of power from Dumbledore to Voldemort. Cultural changes take place over time, and while upheaval might speed the process along and influence the way that change goes, it still takes time - and usually, a new generation.

--- The New History of Britain, Book VI

------

Charlie Weasley turned up the collar of his coat as he walked into the rain. After spending years in gloomy Romania, Charlie did not mind London weather as much. Bill would have complained, of course, but that was the result of becoming used to Egyptian weather.

Bill...

He shook his head. There would be no thoughts of Bill today. Charlie had a long day ahead of him.

Entering the Ministry building, he smiled at a few wizards politely as he wondered why he hadn't simply flooed to work this morning. But he had wanted to fly today, and as an almost-Quidditch legend, he had not reined in the impulse. So here he was, dripping water onto the Ministry's polished foyer floor. "Hey Charlie!"

He looked up to see Vanessa Zabini, Blaise's older sister, waving at him from one of the plush sofas in the reception area. The family resemblance between brother and sister was uncanny. Like Blaise, Vanessa was tall, with black hair and whiskey colored eyes. "Hello, Vanessa."

As he walked over, she looked over him appraisingly. "Walked to work today, did you?"

"I flew," he replied uneasily. Vanessa was a beautiful witch, and as far as he knew, a kind one. She had been a year under him at Hogwarts and had been one of the few Slytherins who had borne no animosity towards him. In fact, the entire Zabini clan strayed from conventional pureblood behavior. Yet Charlie's current status was still too new, and he wondered why he was the recipient of Vanessa's charm.

"I can help you." She pulled out her wand and muttered a drying spell over him. "Now you look presentable."

Of course he did. He was wearing clothes that cost hundreds of galleons. Briefly he wondered if Vanessa would have even looked at him last year. "So what brings you here, Vanessa?" He removed his coat and placed it over his arm.

She smiled up at him, her lashes fluttering in innocence. "My father and brother work at the Ministry, Charlie. I'm considered a familiar face around here." She rose to stand in front of him. "However, today I came to see you."

Charlie looked at her sharply. "Me?" If he were not so shocked over the entire situation, he would have blushed.

"Yes." Vanessa glanced around. "Perhaps we could continue this conversation in your office?" He nodded and led her towards the lifts. "How do you like your new job?"

"It's challenging." What he really wanted to say was that he would rather be back on a dragon reserve, but for all he knew, Vanessa could have been sent here by Lucius. He opened the door and ushered her inside.

Vanessa perused the room while he hung his coat. "Very nice, Charlie. Being Lucius's assistant has its perks, I see."

"Would you care for a drink or perhaps some tea?" Still not sure what Vanessa wanted from him, he sat down and looked at her. Contrary to what Hermione believed, Charlie was still not fully accepted into society either. He had an easier time of it, but there were the occasional comments that reminded Charlie of whose son he was. And while many witches had flashed him inviting smiles, he knew their motives were not honest ones. Either they wanted a quick romp in bed or a pet to do their bidding.

"No, but thank you. I can tell you are very busy and are just itching to get me out of this office." Charlie was about to correct her but saw that her eyes were twinkling.

"Am I that transparent?"

She smiled. "Well, let's just say that I can read you quite easily." She sobered. "And I assure you, it is quite a refreshing change from what I usually encounter. My other friends, male or female, make their livings based on misleading people."

"Am I your friend, Vanessa?"

"Would you like to be?" Her face was open, her eyes guileless.

Charlie felt the ache within him grow. In this new world, Hermione was his only friend, and even their friendship was more like one between brother and sister. It would be nice to have a friend again...

Thankfully, she took pity on him. "That question does not need to be answered now." She leaned forward. "As you know, Blaise has been marooned in Russia for almost a month. He will be returning next week, so I will be throwing a small gathering for friends - and hopeful friends."

"Vanessa..."

"Look, I know that you have little trust in me or any of the other people you know. But I promise, this will be a small group of nice, unpretentious people." She gave him an entreating glance. "And I would like it very much if you could bring Hermione. Blaise writes of her, and I know he will be delighted to see her."

Later, he would not be sure how Vanessa crossed his defenses. Perhaps it was because Vanessa had called Hermione by her name, not "Mublood" or "that Granger girl," or any of the other titles Hermione carried.

"Alright. I'll come."

Vanessa clapped her hands in delight. "Excellent! Sometime later this week I will send you an owl with detailed information."

Charlie allowed himself a small smile. "You could have just sent an owl in the first place."

"And give you the opportunity to decline?" Vanessa shook her head. "I still am a Slytherin." She rose. "I will be on my way then, or Lucius will have my hide for keeping you from work."

He walked her to the lifts. "I have just one question for you." He waited until her gaze met his. "Why are you making so much of an effort for me?"

Vanessa's eyes widened. "I never thought of you as a project, Charlie. I came here because I wanted to see you, and I invited you because I wanted you to come."

Charlie flushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to question your intentions. It's just that...it's hard for me, that's all."

"I know. And I know how much everything has been costing you." Her eyes held sympathy. "Thank you for accepting my invitation." With one last smile, she vanished inside the lift.

------

If a sociologist were ever able to compare Magical and Muggle cultures, they would find many startling parallels. First and foremost is the ideal, held by the young, educated, and liberal population, of a global economy and society that transcends national boundaries and identities. Second is the belief of the upper class in the necessity for maintaining their sovereignty and purity by keeping foreigners and foreign ideals out. Third is the eventual yielding by both parties to the group with the most money and wealth. And though Purebloods would denounce any comparisons with their Muggle counterparts, the parallel between the magical and the non-magical communities was disturbing in the very least.

Hermione was, in essence, a witch that represented a wizarding world that was becoming more global and commercial by the day. She was fluent in several languages without the aid of spells, was quite eager to meet and befriend people from other countries, and believed that all societies must work together for the goal of a prosperous future. Her views and ideals were unfortunately at odds with the Pureblood segment of society, which believed that big signs, with "KEEP OUT" written in bold letters, should be posted all across the borders of Britain.

So it came as no surprise to anyone that when Lucius had told his son that he was to go to America, Draco had refused at first - until he was reminded that it was an order, not a request. Hermione, on the other hand, was delighted. America - and more specifically, the United States, was a place where she could be accepted despite her status as a Muggleborn. In fact, their legacy of being persecuted would work in her favor. Hermione knew that American wizards and witches would be more inclined to view her favorably than Draco, for just as the United States welcomed those of mixed and varied heritage, it also shunned royalty and any "pure" bloodline.

She was very excited. And worried. What if she did not want to come back? But from what she had heard, American immigration was strictly enforced. Maybe once she was done with the Voldemort business, she could apply for residency there. If she managed to survive, that was.

Currently, Hermione was sitting in the middle of her bed as she sifted through clothes, trying to decide what to wear to the party tonight. She had already set aside the clothes she would take with her next week, as well as her work clothes. At least she owned her own Muggle clothes, for American wizards did not wear robes, or wear hats, or do anything remotely wizard-like.

Malfoy was appalled, and he had been forced to ask Hermione where he could purchase high-quality Muggle designer clothes. She had laughed for a full ten minutes before replying.

Score ten points for Hermione Granger!

Currently, Draco Malfoy was up one hundred points - he had won the war, after all, and he was taller than she was - so he had an unfair head start. But, she reflected as she eagerly picked out a violet-colored dress, she would catch up.

Not that Malfoy knew of her secret tally. If he knew, then she could not cheat and give herself free points for being the better person and not hexing him when his back was turned.

"Suky," called out Hermione. Within seconds, the timid house-elf appeared. "Hello Suky, how are you today?" She may have had to give up her Elf Liberation Movement, but the Malfoys could not stop her from being friendly.

Not that it ever worked. "Suky is fed, Mistress."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She had once spent an entire tea-time with Suky as she tried to explain that it was okay for a house-elf to feel happy - or better yet, angry! - but Suky had become so agitated that she ended up spilling all of the tea. "That's good to hear. Will you please inform me when Mr. Weasley arrives from the Ministry? I will be performing some rather loud charms in here, so I may not hear his entrance."

"Yes, Mistress." Suky bobbed her head most agreeably and then vanished.

"Thank you," said Hermione to herself. Tiredly, she headed towards the spacious bathroom. It had been only a week since her meeting with the Dark Lord, and though she had regained her physical strength, she was still mentally exhausted. At work, she had trouble concentrating, often times reliving the entire episode several times a week. Snape had been surprisingly conscientious at first, perhaps remembering when he too had first touched minds with Voldemort. But now he was back to his normal ogre-like self and was pushing Hermione to get back on track.

She finally did, and she continued to learn rapidly, which caused Snape and Lucius to be more than pleased with her progress though they should not have been surprised. The first lessons Hermione had received as a child was in how to learn. And the first lesson of all was the basic trust that she could learn. It had been shocking for her to find how many people at Hogwarts had not believed they could learn, and how many more had believed learning to be difficult.

Snape, as usual, made no mention of being impressed but instead gave her stern warnings about what he expected of her in the United States.

"I fully expect you to be in charge of your faculties when you represent this government, Miss Granger. I would prefer that you leave all talk of politics to young Malfoy. Policy is not your domain, and adding your supposed observations will not help matters. You will, on the other hand, be responsible for the acquisition of materials, and you are more than welcome to engage in any sort of scientific discourse."

"Well, thank you, Professor Snape, for your vote of confidence. It wasn't enough that I become a Death Eater for you."

She filled a small basin with water and added a few drops of lavender oil. It was a sort of instant refresher, and she could count on it to give her face some much needed freshness. Weeks of living at the Manor and the stress of her situation had given her an almost pinched and washed out complexion - something she most certainly did not want tonight.

The dress she would be wearing tonight had been a very impromptu purchase. Having walked by it on her way to a meeting, she came back and saw that it was still there.

It was Grecian-cut, with layers of thin chiffon meant to be draped over a slim figure. It was one of the few dress styles actually suited for Hermione's rather angular body, for this sort of design added an extra dimension of softness to a boyish figure. The color was flattering as well, for the soft violent would bring out the warmth of Hermione's eyes and hair.

If Hermione had learned one lesson when it came to beauty, it was that the world's tailors simply did not make clothes with her in mind. She had to look extra hard to find items that flattered her. So when she came upon this dress, a dress that seemed to have been made with her specifically in mind, she walked inside that store, and without a second thought, paid over two hundred galleons for it. It was the most expensive dress she had ever owned, thanks to Malfoy money. And though the dress was beautiful, for she had shown it to Narcissa in a rare moment of feminine bonding, it was a testament to how low she had stooped. The old Hermione Granger would never buy such a wasteful item, one that was made specifically to enhance her appearance, nor would she ever have used the enemy's money to buy it.

But the old Hermione Granger was, to almost everyone, dead. So she pushed away her feelings of revulsion and spent her paycheck quite freely. It was important for everyone to think that she was letting her new status get to her head. No one could know how much she hated herself, or else it would ruin everything.

Snape did not know it, but she was not on anybody's side either.

Two hours later, Suky appeared to inform her that Charlie had arrived from the Ministry and was getting ready in his own rooms. Hermione once again cursed men for being so lucky. They only needed ten minutes to get ready, whereas Hermione was in her second hour of getting dressed, and she still was not finished.

She was brave enough to admit that the reason it was taking so long was because she wanted to look perfect. The party was in Blaise's honor, and she did not wish to shame him since everyone knew she was likely invited at his insistence. If she were going to be the hated Muggle tonight, at least she would be a reasonably pretty hated Muggle.

"Hermione, are you ready?" It was Charlie.

"Yes, just about. You can come in if you like." She hurriedly snapped in a few more pins in her hair. "Well, what do you think?" She twirled around for his benefit.

Appreciation glinted in his blue eyes. "Absolutely divine. Wherever did you find such a dress?"

"Knockturn Alley." Hermione quickly scanned his appearance. Clad in a gray suit with a black coat over it, he looked rather fetching himself.

Charlie whistled. "Knockturn Alley? I hope you checked that dress for booby traps."

She smiled. "I did. Several times. But this dress was just too good to pass up." She turned back to the mirror. "I wish I had something for my hair though."

"I see that someone is going to be knocked off his feet tonight," he said laughingly. "Now hold on for a minute. I think I can help you." He disappeared through the door, and within moments, he returned with a handful of white lilies. "Put these in your hair. It is a garden party, after all."

Hermione smiled in pleasure as the sweet scent of the flowers filled the air. "Perfect." She quickly coiled them into her hair. "Now how do I look?"

"You'll make everyone jealous." He held out his hand and led her out the door. "I should tell you one thing though. Malfoy will be coming with us tonight."

Her happy mood vanished. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Blaise and Malfoy are friends, after all."

"Well, don't worry. Vanessa told Malfoy to be on his best behavior. And one thing Malfoy will never do is shame his family in someone else's home."

She followed him down a spiral staircase, once again wishing that more congenial people lived in this beautiful home. "He's going to floo over with us?"

"Probably. It doesn't make sense for us to go separately, especially since we're all coming from the same place."

Her suspicions were confirmed when they arrived at the fireplace in the foyer. Malfoy was already there, impeccably dressed in black and gray, with a green tie adding some color. His eyes regarded them coldly. "Ready to leave?"

Charlie nodded stiffly. Despite being held in high regard by Lucius, Charlie did not get along with Malfoy. Not surprising, since Malfoy had killed three of his brothers. "Granger," said Malfoy as he gestured for her to go first. "Call out Fontevrault. That's their house."

She took a handle of floo powder, stepped inside the fireplace, and loudly repeated the house name. She distantly found herself amused by the fact that only the very rich gave their houses names.

The room she stepped into was warmly lit, decorated with a coziness she did not expect. Yet she found the burnished rosewood furniture and softly lit lamps pleasing.

"Hermione!" Blaise greeted her with a smile lighting his handsome features. "I can't tell you how delighted I was when I heard you were coming."

Unsure if she should offer her hand or not, she simply smiled back. "I can't wait to hear about your trip."

"There isn't much more to tell you. My owl had to take a break from all the letters I sent you." Of his own accord, he reached down and grasped her hand securely in his. "Welcome to my home, Hermione."

"Goodness, Blaise. You're certainly making the effort tonight. I suppose you put out your best china." Malfoy's voice came from behind them.

Blaise rolled his eyes. Planting a kiss on Hermione's hand, he straightened to bow mockingly to Malfoy. "I've been away from weeks, and that's all you can say to me?"

Malfoy waited until Blaise released Hermione's hand before offering his own. "You took care of business admirably. Glad to see the Russians didn't drown you in alcohol."

Blaise turned to Charlie. "Weasley," he said respectfully. "I bid you all welcome to Fontevrault." He offered his arm to Hermione. "And you are just in time." He led them through a well-lit parlor to the garden, where various men and women sat comfortably on chaises and benches. "Vanessa, look who has arrived." He smiled kindly at Hermione. "Vanessa is my sister."

A tall witch approached them with a smile on her face. Hermione could only gaze at her in rapt curiosity as she took in her features. It was hard to ignore the startling mirror imagery of Blaise and this woman, especially when what was mirrored was as much astounding intelligence and innate charisma as incomparable beauty. Hermione tilted her head and examined Blaise with more appreciative eyes than she had ever been allowed to before. Both brother and sister possessed an allure that was neither ephemeral nor earthy but simply and singularly theirs.

"Hello, Charlie". She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek that caused Hermione to raise her eyebrows. "And you must be Miss Granger." Vanessa turned warm eyes upon her. "I cannot tell you how delighted I am to finally meet you, Miss Granger. Blaise has mentioned you so often I that simply insisted Charlie bring you tonight."

Hermione smiled back. "Thank you for inviting me. And please, call me Hermione."

"It will be my pleasure to introduce you both to some of my friends." She gestured around the room. "This is a gathering of like minds, if you get my drift?"

Charlie and Hermione both nodded. It was their first non-formal social occasion, and it was relief to know that there would be no prejudice here.

------

As Vanessa welcomed Hermione and Charlie warmly, Draco stood slightly behind them and wondered at this puzzling turn of events. He had known that Blaise and Granger were friends, but he was sure that he had seen more than friendly regard in both of their eyes tonight. And he felt very uncomfortable with the idea. The war was barely over. Intimate association with a Muggleborn could ruin Blaise's credibility.

"Draco!" All thoughts vanished as Vanessa turned her radiant smile upon him. "I'm glad you came."

He kissed her proffered hand. "It was kind of you to extend an invitation to me." She laughed in pleasure as she led Weasley and Granger off to introduce them to the other guests, thus leaving Draco with Blaise.

He turned his pewter eyes onto his friend. "Now you can tell me honestly. How did things turn out in Russia?"

Blaise handed him a glass of wine from a tray being carried by a wandering house-elf. "In our favor." He brushed away imaginary dirt from the lapel of his jacket. "I made a few promises here and there, and soon we had our trading rights established again." A smile graced his handsome face. "It's all politics. You know how the game works."

"Yes, I know how the game works." Draco eyed their reflections in pool next to them. He and Blaise were a contrast. His pale skin and light hair next to Blaise's dusky skin and black hair - and yet they both possessed the same ruthless streak that had made them such good friends.

Blaise noted his friend's demeanor. "How are things at home?"

Draco looked across the room where Granger was involved in a discussion with one of Vanessa's friends. "My father will not admit it, but I think he rather likes having Weasley and Granger in our home. And my mother is certainly glad for female company."

"What about you?" asked Blaise, noticing that Draco's eyes still remained on Granger.

"I don't like it, if that's what you mean. But my father's word is law, and if he says that they are to stay with us, then I have no choice but to accept having a Muggleborn under the same roof."

Blaise shook his head. "Do you ever talk to her? I mean, really talk to her?"

"Why should I?" scoffed Draco. "There are many people with acceptable blood for me to speak to. People who are not still pining over Harry Potter."

"And therein lies the difference between you and me. You see Hermione and see her Muggle origins. I see her and see someone who has a pleasant disposition, is attractive, and is very intelligent." He took a long drink from his glass. "Which of us is stronger, and more importantly, right? History shall decide, my friend."

Draco felt a vague prickling of unease. As genuine as Blaise's words were, there was something in his voice that Draco did not like. He knew Blaise to be a womanizer, and he did not doubt that Granger was next on his list. And as much as Draco told himself that he did not care, that Granger ought to learn that she was just a means to an end, he was not sure if he wanted her used in such a fashion.

In the end, he just shrugged it off. Granger could deal with it.

------

The evening progressed quite nicely for Hermione. All of Blaise and Vanessa's friends were much different from the usual sort of people that Lucius and Snape entertained in their homes. These young wizards and witches were far from being antiquated in their beliefs. In fact, only Malfoy had the unfortunate honor of being antiquated, but at least he was a minority.

It had surprised her to no end when Ethel Mayberry, a short woman with hints of red in her blond hair, made a few negative remarks about the new government. She had assumed that everyone here was in ardent support of Lucius's new order. But to her pleasure, it seemed that it was not the case. And even Vanessa and Blaise were open in what they said.

At first Hermione kept her thoughts to herself. After all, Draco Malfoy would not hesitate in reporting to his father. But when he agreed to a few of the remarks, Hermione could no longer keep her thoughts to herself. Besides, she had reasoned, it would be unnatural for her to be completely supportive of the Malfoys. Everyone knew she was working for them under coercion.

"I think that it's a good thing that Dumbledore was removed," stated Drew Pennysbrook, a tall Irishman. "I think that Malfoy will do a better job in keeping our society intact."

"But the question is, can Lucius Malfoy unite our society?" asked Vanessa. "We are all so divided. Purebloods and mixed bloods and Muggleborns - when do we go back to calling ourselves simply magical people?"

Charlie looked thoughtful. "The question is, what can we expect from the Dark Lord?"

Vanessa replenished everyone's wine. "My grandmother used to say that if the Dark Lord was as he was when he first began to speak out against the government, there would be more hope. He certainly never preached murder when he was young."

"And it is what happened to Dumbledore," pointed out Drew.

Hermione almost spilled her wine. "Dumbledore was not violent."

"No, but his inaction prompted violence," he said in return. "He was content in his role as head wizard, and he took too much time in waiting for Harry Potter to finish what he started."

Malfoy thankfully changed the subject. "In any case, the Dark Lord has very little say in the administration of the government as long as we follow his more...spiritual guidelines."

Blaise nodded in agreement. "I do not envy your father's job, Draco. Not even he can be so foresighted as to see the effect of this rebellion in the future."

Malfoy looked troubled, and for once, his tone bore no malice. "The world of Dumbledore now belongs in the texts of history scrolls. Many hate the people who defeated it, but they have no idea what they want in its place. It's why my father did what he did. He could no longer bear to see our world grow any weaker. And so he took steps to ensure its survival."

"By killing so many innocent people?" asked Hermione in outrage.

"There is no one innocent, Granger." His pewter eyes glowed with conviction as everyone else listened with rapt attention. "Yes, there are divisions in society. But it is useless to think that we will all be united. Perhaps a day will come when divisions based on blood heritage will not matter. But there will be other divisions. Such is the nature of humanity, whether Muggle or Magical." He looked around at everyone's faces. "Dumbledore believed in ideals that are not possible, and his supporters thought they saw such a future. But it was only a mirage. A person cannot drink from a mirage, but he can drown in it. And that is why people died, Granger."

This had slowly become a two-person discussion. Everyone else kept silent and allowed Hermione and Malfoy to have their first real conversation. "But that's wrong," she insisted. "You're following the attitude of the sword - you chop off the wrong and impossible and say, 'Now it's complete and possible because it ended here'." Hermione shook her head. "People need the freedom to wish for an ideal."

"Seek freedom and become captive of your desires. Seek discipline and find your liberty," he quoted.

"Your liberties all vanish when you look up to any absolute ruler," shot back Hermione.

Malfoy disagreed. "Neither the Dark Lord nor my father are absolute rulers, Granger. This is still a government."

"No. A government is where the people give the power. The Dark Lord took power. He stole power."

He laughed. "Not even the most accomplished thief can steal a whole country. The inaction, in fact the apathy, of its citizens gave it to him."

Vanessa found this to be a good moment to change topics. "Speaking of thieves, do you know what happened to me in Knockturn Alley the other day?"

------

Dinner had already been served, but neither Hermione nor Malfoy said much after their earlier argument. It was as if they had reached a tentative truce. Perhaps that was what they had needed all along - a place to air out their views so that they no longer had to hide behind insults. She sat quietly as she listened to Ethel and Vanessa chat about the latest fashions, her normally verbose personality for once subdued as she considered tonight's revelations. She had never heard Malfoy speak with such passion before. He believed everything he said. It was not just rhetoric learned at his father's knee.

She had lived life at Hogwarts with the assumption that he was a brainless follower of Voldemort, who had taken the Dark Mark because his father told him too. She had never credited him for actually understanding the social and political situation and taking steps to see his beliefs realized.

Draco Malfoy was a far more dangerous enemy than she had assumed.

At that moment, Hermione looked up, and as if Malfoy knew he was the subject of her thoughts, he trained his eyes on her from across the room. She caught her breath under Malfoy's regard, and for some reason, her heart began to pound, though she did not know why. Perhaps it was a sense of foreboding she felt because, for the first time, she could feel his physical strength and compelling will even from such a distance. She did her best to return the gaze as steadily as possible. The twilight eyes considered her a while longer before turning away, thus releasing her abruptly from their spell. She shifted her gaze to Blaise's warmer one, who smiled at her winningly.

She watched as he excused himself from Malfoy and made his way towards her. Malfoy watched them intensely, almost disapprovingly, and perhaps in defiance, Hermione's smile grew brighter and her laugh merrier as Blaise took a seat next to her.

------

As the hour grew late, Draco began to take his leave. As much as he enjoyed spending time with Blaise and Vanessa, he had a long journey ahead of him tomorrow, and he still had to finish reading the background papers his father had given him. He briefly considered leaving Granger, but she had not finished her work either, and Draco would not appear before the Americans without being fully prepared. He approached Granger, who was involved in some sort of discussion with Vanessa and Charlie. "Granger, we should head back to the Manor. We need to finish our preparations and rest before we leave tomorrow."

"So soon?" asked Vanessa. "The party isn't even close to being over."

"I would love to stay, Vanessa, but Malfoy is right. We do need to rise early tomorrow." She took note of Charlie's crestfallen expression. "But Charlie, you might as well stay longer. You have no tiring travel ahead of you, and it seems unfair to make you leave with us."

Charlie looked uneasy as he glanced at Malfoy. "Are you sure? Because I don't mind coming with you, Hermione."

"I absolutely insist. And I'll be fine."

Malfoy smirked. "I promise I won't hex her in the floo."

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Draco." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Have a safe trip, darling." She then hugged Hermione. "And it was a pleasure to have you here tonight."

"I can't begin to tell you how much I enjoyed being here. I don't think I've had any fun for a long time. Thank you," Hermione said sincerely. "I'll see you back at the Manor, Charlie."

She followed Draco as they entered the house again, only to run into Blaise. "Don't tell me you are leaving."

"We must, I'm afraid." Draco looked thoughtful. "But we'll only be gone for a week. Come by then, and we can catch up since we were unable to do so properly tonight."

"Fair enough." Blaise turned to Hermione. "I expect letters."

Hermione laughed. "You shall certainly get them."

"When you return, perhaps we can have dinner in a more intimate setting? Then you can tell me all about those witless Americans." Beside him, Draco frowned.

"I should like that very much."

He walked them to the fireplace. "Good luck, Draco." Once again, he kissed Hermione. "Goodbye."

Draco pushed Hermione towards the fireplace. "Blaise, you'll keep us here all night with your romancing."

"I can't help it," he called out as Malfoy began the trip back to the manor.

Once at home, he took a deep breath. He felt more tired from this evening of relaxation than he was from a full day of work. He tapped his foot as he waited for Granger to appear. If Blaise is still saying his bloody goodbyes...

She appeared at that very moment. Still disoriented, she stepped out of the fireplace and stumbled. Without thinking, Draco reached out and steadied her. When she looked up at him in surprise, he noticed the happiness dim from her eyes. "You can't injure yourself until we return," he snapped in explanation.

"Thank you." She shook the dust from her dress and prepared to leave, but he caught her arm.

"Listen, Granger, can I give you some advice?" She looked at him suspiciously. "I know you and Blaise are friends. But you should be wary. He isn't as sincere as he seems."

She pulled her arm free from his grasp. "You are unbelievable, Malfoy. He's your friend. How can you say such things about him?"

"It is because he's my friend that I know this." He sighed in frustration. Why was he even bothering? "It's in your own best interests to be careful."

Granger walked away. "The only interests you have ever cared for is your own, Malfoy. And your interest in my well-being only extends to when I'll be killed off."

"Gryffindors," he muttered. He went off in search of his room. These days, his dreams made more sense than real life.