The day after they arrived at the Manor, Lucius invited Hermione out to the barn to help care for the large winged horses while Theo and Draco took a turn around the quidditch pitch. They spent a few minutes in companionable silence as Hermione fed them rum cakes and Lucius used a cleaning spell on their hooves. She liked the barn, liked the slightly sweet but acidic smell of the Abraxans, liked the view of the grounds from the large barn windows.

“I hear you spoke with Severus…” Lucius’ melodic voice carried through the silence.

Hermione stilled.

“Yes, sir, I did.”

She was surprised by the small chuckle she heard come from Lucius, who circled around the large horse she was feeding.

“There is no need for such formality, Hermione,” Lucius admonished gently, taking the tin of cakes from her to set on a nearby table.

From a rack hanging close by, he took two thick brushes and handed one to her.

“Severus gave you much to think about, yes?” Lucius said after showing Hermione the proper technique to brush the Abraxan’s shiny white coat.

Mimicking Lucius’ movements, Hermione thought for a moment.

“To be honest… not really.”

Lucius stopped, his grey eyes – so much like the eyes of his son – turning to her inquisitively. Hermione gulped.

“When Professor Snape first spoke with me, I must admit I reacted emotionally, which is quite unlike me. But afterwards I truly analyzed why I would allow myself to…” She searched for the right word, moving her brush rhythmically over the coat. “To side with you and Narcissa,” she said simply, unsure of how open they were being.

So often the Malfoys spoke like the double edge of a knife, both sides sharp but you never knew which was the true edge.

“And what conclusions did you draw?” Lucius encouraged.

She took a deep breath before letting it go in a gust.

“Well I created a list – mentally of course – of pros and cons. The cons were easy but I also found that they existed regardless of my choice: death, grief, loss, uncertainty. The pros, however, outweighed the rest. The first and biggest being…” She took another deep breath and steeled herself, turning to face Lucius head on.

“If I, a mudblood, can serve the Dark Lord perhaps I can enact real change. I could create a bridge to the divide between the dark and the light. Right now, I am merely Harry Potter’s brainiac friend, always ignored until there’s a crisis – and even sometimes ignored then. I often feel that I’m on the outskirts screaming into the wind…”

Lucius’ eyes glittered at her words, obviously seeing the possibilities. He nodded, waving a regal hand to encourage her to continue.

“When I’m with Draco… and the rest of them… I’m something more . I’m more than Harry’s muggleborn friend. I’m more than a swotty student trying to prove their worth and place in this world. I just… belong. ”

She felt the hot prickling of tears in her eyes and turned back to the wide shoulder of the Abraxan, letting her fingertips run gently over the silken feathers of the wings.

“I know you must think me silly, to feel so strongly for Draco after only a little less than a year of… well… truly knowing him. But I love him. It wasn’t a difficult decision to make.”

She took a deep breath, moving her brush lower towards the wing joint of the horse. The rhythmic brushing soothed the chaos inside her mind in a similar way that Narcissa’s meditations did.

“And… after being what felt like a nuisance to my own parents for as long as I can remember… having you and Narcissa care for me – take an interest in me and guide me… Why would I turn my back on that? How could I turn my back on the people that care for me most?”

Tears stung her eyes and she quickly wiped them with her free hand.

“I know the Weasleys care for me, but it has always felt more in the way of feeding a stray dog. I’m welcome, but mostly due to my proximity to Harry and Ron.”

She couldn’t help the bitterness that crept into her voice. Couldn’t help the tears that continued to sting her eyes. She jumped a little at the soft, warm hand that tentatively touched her shoulder.

Lucius said nothing as he turned Hermione to him. Said nothing as he gently took the brush from her hand and sent it with a flick of his wrist floating back to the rack on the wall. He still said nothing as he pulled her into his embrace, placing a comforting hand on the back of her head in a way she could vaguely remember her own father doing the first time she left on the Hogwarts Express.

“I know you have already made your choice, Hermione,” Lucius whispered into her hair. “And I want you to know that regardless of what you may have chosen, Narcissa and I had made ours. The first night you stayed with us we made an agreement to protect you regardless of your choice.”

A warmth swelled within her and she couldn’t help but squeeze Lucius a bit tighter around the middle in response.

“The fact that you have chosen this path means we have much to prepare for – much to consider. Do you understand?” Lucius said gravely, pulling back to look into her eyes.

Lucius’ face was a strange combination of the hardened mask he so often wore in public mixed with the same paternal warmth he’d exhibited a moment ago. His white-blonde hair glimmered faintly in the sun spilling in from the window behind her, contrasting with the immaculate onyx dress robes he wore (which she had found amusing given they were currently mucking about in a horse barn).

She nodded in response to his question.

“Professor Snape said he would help me… find a reason for…” She swallowed loudly and Lucius gave her upper arms a comforting squeeze. “For the Dark Lord to keep me alive.”

His grey eyes flashed dangerously.

“How much do you know of the Dark Lord?”

She bit the inside of her cheek, casting about for any knowledge she may have. If she was being honest, it wasn’t much.

“I know that during the first wizarding war he had a large network of spies including other magical creatures.”

Lucius nodded, then guided her over to a small bench set outside of the small barn. She shivered in the weak sun and was grateful for the warming charm Lucius cast over both of them.

“That is correct, the Dark Lord had many spies. He also killed many people – magical and muggle.”

Her brows furrowed at this.

“Why would he do that? Why would he kill so… ruthlessly?”

Lucius seemed to think about this for a long moment, resting his head back against the dark siding of the barn and letting his eyes roam over the rolling hills in front of them before turning his attention back to her.

“How would you drive a nail with a feather, Hermione?”

She blinked.

“You can’t…”

He looked at her, one pale eyebrow raised.

“And why is that?”

She cast about, obviously trying to understand where this turn in the conversation was taking them.

“Because… it’s too soft.”

The smallest of grins appeared on his face.

“Precisely. Sometimes, Hermione, violence must be met with violence. Remember –” He stared off in the distance for a long moment, seeming to decide upon something. “When you rule through fear and chaos, power may be easily obtained...”

He turned his gaze back to her, his expression burning with a deep feeling Hermione couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“But it is also fleeting .”

…

“What did father discuss with you, yesterday?” Draco asked after their morning meditation with Narcissa.

Hermione had drifted from the breakfast table, intent on spending a little time in the library during the few days they had here. Draco wrapped an arm around her waist, stalling her from reaching for the first book that caught her eye – sure that once she opened the spine, he’d lose her attention for the next few hours.

She wasn’t quite sure what to tell Draco. On one hand, she wanted to tell him everything including her fears about the prospect of forsaking Harry and Ron to serve the Dark Lord. On the other she didn’t want Draco to worry, or feel guilt over her decision. It was hers and hers alone – her burden that she couldn’t share. At least not yet.

So instead, she merely shrugged, sliding a hand over Draco’s soft black jumper.

“He merely wanted to discuss the last task of the tournament,” Hermione said confidently. It was true – after they had discussed the Dark Lord, Lucius had expressed his frustration over Hermione having been chosen to enter the Black Lake.

Draco huffed a laugh, drawing her closer until their chests pressed tightly together. He trailed his fingertips across her jaw then down the column of her throat. She shivered, clenching a fist around the soft material at his chest.

“Mother and father were beside themselves when Theo and I owled them. I was sure father was a sickle away from storming up to the castle to give Dumbledore and Crouch a piece of his mind.”

Hermione giggled, quite enjoying the image of an irate Lucius Malfoy chastising Barty Crouch about placing her in the lake as the thing Krum would miss most. Draco laughed too, pressing his lips to her temple softly.

Before she could move to capture his mouth, however, the double doors of the library banged open. Theo entered in a flounce of curls and irritation.

“Oi, stop snogging you lot I just ate,” Theo pouted, throwing himself onto a nearby overstuffed sofa.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Draco asked petulantly, refusing to release Hermione but instead turning them so they could both see the pouting boy.

“Cissa is insisting I learn healing charms for whatever reason,” Theo sighed dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. “I’m to spend the afternoon with her in the conservatory learning the basics and then over the summer we will take on the more complex enchantments.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at the morose way Theo slid deeper into the cushions. Quickly extricating herself from Draco, she took a seat beside him on the couch, which Theo took as an invitation to throw his head into her lap. When she didn’t immediately begin to stroke his curls, Theo grabbed her wrist and placed her hand on top of his head.

“Why is she teaching you healing charms if you’re not interested?” Hermione wondered aloud, her gaze moving to Draco who leaned against the tall shelf of books.

Theo let out another great groan, flailing his arms.

“It’s not that I don’t want to learn the charms! I merely mentioned in a letter how proficient you were at them and that I felt they could be useful to learn!” He let his arms flop back on to the couch. “She said that there may come a time when you will be…” Theo used his fingers to create air quotes. “ Indisposed and unable to come to our aid, or that you may need them yourself, so another of us needs to learn them as well. I guess my jealousy means I’m the chosen one as our back up healer.”

Draco’s pale brows pulled together and he pushed himself from the shelves.

“Why would Hermione be indisposed? What would be happening in which we would even need a healer in our group other than the typical bout of bullying?”

Theo shrugged, pushing himself to a seat to look at his friend.

“I don’t know, mate! Your mum wouldn’t say! She had that look in her eye, you know?”

Draco nodded knowingly, swiping a hand over his face.

“What look? What do you mean?” Hermione asked, anxiety tinging her words.

What did it mean that Narcissa was planning to teach Theo healing charms? When Lucius and Professor Snape had spoken to Hermione about the resurrection of You-Know-Who it had been in the abstract, in some far off future. She’d never thought of how the others around her might be affected or prepared. And… surely the Dark Lord was not so close to returning that they would have to start their preparations so soon.

“When Narcissa has a secret, or has made a decision she gets this… look about her where you can’t read her face. It’s like a wall’s been built right behind her eyes.”

Hermione thought she knew the look Theo was talking about – had seen it on both Narcissa and Lucius at the world cup when they’d laid eyes on her.

“So you’re to be the official healer of the group?” Hermione asked tentatively.

Theo nodded, throwing his head back against the edge of the couch.

“I’m the sodding healer,” Theo agreed with a groan.

Hermione gave him a consoling pat, trying to ignore the worried look on Draco’s face as he thought over all the implications of what it may mean that Hermione may be indisposed.