We’ve been called to the Manor tonight. Mother and Father will be waiting for us outside the shop at 8pm. Meet in the room at 7:45.

Hermione had seen the words appear that morning as she wrote Draco a good morning note. At first, she hadn’t thought much of having to travel through the cabinet but now the idea slightly terrified her.

She, Draco, Theo, and Blaise all stood in front of the newly repaired artifact. Blaise looked confident, Draco looked preoccupied, and Theo looked almost as nervous as Hermione felt.

“All you need to do is close the door and say itum . You’ll hear the same click and then you can open the door. It’s simple,” Blaise said for the third time tonight, rolling up the sleeves of his school robes to expose his mark. “Ready?”

The other three nodded, mirroring his actions and calling forth their robes. Before the mask could trickle into place, Draco reached for Hermione and kissed her.

“We’ll go through together,” he said and she nodded.

Blaise went through first with a soft click , followed soon after by Theo. Finally, it was just Draco and Hermione in the room of requirement, his thumb trailing the smooth cheek of her mask.

“He’ll be pleased with you, Draco. The cabinet is repaired – you have an escape,” she reassured him, stroking her hand down his arm.

“It’s not enough…” he said in a tone she very rarely heard from him – fear .

“It will be enough, Draco. It’s only been two months.”

Draco took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders back.

“Let’s not keep them waiting.”

He opened the door, allowing Hermione to step in first. She assumed it would be cramped, but the cabinet adjusted itself to accommodate her standing comfortably. When Draco stepped in after her she assumed it had expanded again for him.

All light was extinguished as the door shut behind him. She felt his hand circle her waist, drawing her close. He was trembling and Hermione’s heart gave a lurch.

“It will be enough, love,” she said softly in the darkness.

“ Itum ,” he whispered.

There was silence followed by the soft click and then the door opened into the dim lights of Borgin and Burke’s. Draco stepped out first, turning to offer his hand to Hermione as she stepped off the small platform inside the cabinet, and then laced their fingers together as they followed Theo and Blaise from the shop.

Lucius patted the three boys on the shoulder as they approached him in the darkened alley, his robes in place but mask missing. When he got to Hermione, he pulled her into a tight hug.

“Draco is worried,” she whispered to him.

“It will be fine,” Lucius reassured her, stepping to grasp his son’s arm while Narcissa did the same with Theo and Blaise.

There was the tightness of apparition and then they stood in the entryway to the Manor blinking at the bright reflected light of the chandelier.

Narcissa bid them goodnight, squeezing Hermione’s hand briefly as she stepped around the group and made her way up the stairs.

Nerves began to tighten in her chest. What if it wasn’t enough?

As a unit they made their way towards the drawing room, the doors magically opening when they were still a few steps away. It was the simplicity of the routine that calmed Hermione as they walked to the rug and knelt before the Dark Lord.

It would be enough.

“Couteau,” the Dark Lord hissed. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”

Hermione lifted her head and waved her wand to remove her mask knowing the Dark Lord preferred to see their faces when he spoke to them.

“It is good to see you too, my lord,” she answered with a small smile.

The Dark Lord relaxed against his throne; Nagini curled over one shoulder as he stroked a single pale finger down her nose. His oil slick robes falling around him shimmered in the light from the fire as he shifted, gesturing to her to come closer.

She rose, swirling her robes away from her feet as she walked around the group to stand at the dais. The Dark Lord had a hungry look in his eyes as he took in her appearance. The gold embroidered snakes that clung to her shoulders and waist, glinting against the black fabric of her robes before they billowed to the ground.

“How goes it with the Potter boy?” the Dark Lord asked, tilting his head to the side.

Hermione’s shelves rattled and she deliberately moved her attention away from the high shelf where she had pressed the knowledge of the prophecy between two large books. She knew that by withholding this information it put her – and Draco – at risk, but it felt like a step too far. Surely the world could be changed without so much life lost, without Harry having to die too.

“He is… much changed, my lord,” she answered, drawing to the surface memories of his anger, his tantrum in the joke shop. “He suspects Draco of taking the mark and is obsessed with finding proof.”

The muscles around the Dark Lord’s eyes raised and the corner of his mouth pulled up to show his sharp teeth.

“And does he suspect you?”

Hermione dipped her head.

“He does not, my lord. I admit he is frustrated with my lack of confidence in him. He believes I’m too careful and question him too much.”

A soft chuckle slipped between the Dark Lord’s teeth, causing her stomach to curl uncomfortably. There was something about hearing him laugh that disturbed her more than anything else. It was that lack of human spark, the reminder that he was more dark magic than wizard.

“Good – I am pleased,” he said with a nod, his bright red eyes flicking behind him. “Draco, come .”

At once Draco stood, coming beside Hermione and bowing his head.

“My lord,” he said respectfully.

There was no warmth in the Dark Lord’s face as there was when he looked upon Hermione. It made her stiffen, wanting to place herself in front of Draco.

“How goes your mission?”

Draco didn’t hesitate.

“It’s going well, my lord. We have repaired the vanishing cabinet in the come and go room so those who need to may escape after the mission is completed,” he said in his usual confident voice. Hermione knew him well enough to hear the fear that clung to the ends of his consonants.

The Dark Lord nodded, his eyes piercing Draco’s but he did not cower or shrink. Hermione saw Draco’s shoulders roll imperceptibly and he appeared to stand slightly taller.

“And your plans for Dumbledore?”

She heard the catch of Draco’s voice but still he did not cower.

“In progress, my lord. I am hopeful we will be successful very soon.”

To her surprise the Dark Lord did not ask any further questions, merely flicking his fingers to indicate Draco should return to his position on the rug. Draco gave him a deep bow before retreating. It felt a bit odd to her, this formal check in, and wondered if there would be more to this summons than just a progress report.

“Mr. Zabini,” the Dark Lord called.

At once Blaise stood and took his place beside Hermione. She noticed the way his hands slightly trembled and in the act of adjusting his cloak, hid them behind the fabric.

“I believe you are familiar with the Italian seaside?” the Dark Lord asked conversationally.

“Yes, my lord,” Blaise replied. “I’ve spent every summer there since I was a child.”

“Are you familiar with the town of Otranto?”

Blaise dipped his head. “I am, my lord.”

The Dark Lord looked satisfied, his bright red eyes flicking between him and Hermione.

“There is a wizard residing in a small shack outside of the city who refuses to rejoin our ranks. I want you and Couteau to find him.”

Both of them stilled at his words. They were still in school – surely their absence would raise questions.

“The act of finding him will be simple – in fact I already know where he is.” The Dark Lord conjured a small, chipped teacup. “This portkey will take you to him. It is scheduled to take you tomorrow night.”

Hermione stepped forward to accept the cup, slipping it into the pocket of her robes.

“What would you like us to do with him, my lord?” Hermione asked.

The smile the Dark Lord gave now chilled her blood and his eyes glinted in some strange pleasure as he leaned forward on his throne.

“When you find Igor Karkaroff, I want you to kill him and leave his body where aurors will find it. We will be sending a little message to those who choose to defy me.”

Hermione couldn’t help but swallow as the book that held the knowledge of the prophecy slid deeper into the shelf.