The meeting had ended perhaps three quarters of an hour ago, though Hermione could not have said what took place after the Dark Lord scolded Bellatrix other than discussions about the Order, the various fires that had taken root across many of their safehouses, and their apparent lack of any true warding.

She sat trying to decide if she had failed – if there was still a chance she could change the Dark Lord’s mind. There had been nothing in the prophet about muggle baiting or anything about his agenda on muggleborns, so that had to be a good sign.

After the Dark Lord had disapparated along with Travers, the man from the Ministry whose name she thought may be Pious, Dolohov, Yaxley, and Bellatrix, Hermione looked up into the black eyes of Severus Snape and vanished her mask.

“Is there a way to still convince him of the usefulness of muggleborns?” she asked without preamble.

Slowly, Snape rose from his seat and waved his wand in a complex way to ward the room against any eavesdroppers. His greasy black hair was a curtain around his face as he turned away from her towards the roaring flame in the hearth, appearing to contemplate her question for a long moment.

“I do not believe there ever was a way,” Snape said in his usual cool voice. “The Dark Lord has always been convinced of the sanctity and rightness of purebloods.”

Each word was like a cut across Hermione’s face.

How could she have been so naïve?

“But how can that be?” Lucius interjected. “The Dark Lord himself is not a pureblood – he grew up in a muggle orphanage. His father was a muggle.”

Beside him, Narcissa gave a short hum of agreement.

“The Dark Lord is not a pureblood?” Theo asked, his eyes wide.

“No, he is not,” Snape answered, still with his back to the group.

“So there might still be a way…” Draco said softly beside her, grabbing her hand.

Snape sighed heavily, pulling a scroll of parchment from the inner pocket of his robes and staring at it for a long moment before turning back to the group. In three long strides he made his way around the table and placed the scroll in front of her – opening it with a tap of his wand. Hermione gasped at the words at the top of the parchment.

MUGGLEBORN REGISTRATION COMMISSION

“As the new Headmaster of Hogwarts, it will be my duty to report all muggleborns returning to Hogwarts to this office,” he said, tapping a finger to the parchment. “The muggleborns will be rounded up and sent to the Ministry for… questioning.” His mouth worked around the word, showing his obvious distaste.

“ Questioning? ” Hermione asked, her hands gripping the paper until it crumpled in her fists. When she looked up into the hooked nose face of her potions master, she thought she understood. “Or imprisonment?”

“I believe you could use either word to describe it,” Snape replied in a flat voice.

“No… No ,” Hermione gritted through her teeth, shaking her head. “I can change his mind. I can force him –”

“You cannot force the Dark Lord to do anything, Hermione,” Snape cut across her.

“But we said… we said we would find a way…” The words caught in her throat.

Snape looked at her for a long moment before slowly sinking to perch upon the table beside her. He clasped his hands in front of him, a look of compassion tinged with pity on his face.

“No… we said we would find a way to prove your usefulness to the Dark Lord – not the usefulness of all muggleborns,” he said in an uncharacteristically kind voice.

“Besides,” Blaise spoke up from down the table, his voice dead. “The Dark Lord has already been targeting muggles and muggleborns in attacks.”

“ What? ” Hermione gasped. “I haven’t heard of any attacks. The Prophet –”

“The Prophet is controlled by the Ministry, Hermione,” Narcissa said softly, reaching her arm down the table as if she could grab her hand. “The Ministry doesn’t care about muggles… nor muggleborns – not anymore.”

“Were you there?” she asked in a hollow voice, turning to Lucius whose face had turned dark with anger.

“I was there for some of the attacks on muggleborns, along with Blaise, Theodore, and a few others,” Lucius said in just as hollow a tone.

She shook her head, magic crackling along her hair.

“You killed muggleborns…”

Lucius exchanged a look with Snape. There was an expression of extreme pain on his face, as if there was something he desperately wished to say, but could not – and it was killing him.

In one fluid movement, Lucius rose from his chair and rounded hers. Snape stood, giving Lucius the space he needed to kneel beside her chair, taking her hands in his.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she said automatically. “I trust you, Lucius.”

“Then trust me – trust us .”

Her brows pulled together.

“I don’t understand.”

“We –” Lucius started, but Snape cut him off with a look.

“What?” Hermione asked, turning toward him.

Lucius took a deep breath.

“We must… continue on the path we have set. There is always a chance we can change the Dark Lord’s mind.”

Hermione did not think that was what he had intended to say, but could see from the look on his face she would not be getting anything else out of him. It was true – she trusted Lucius. Trusted him with her life, just as she did his wife and son. They were more than just her magical guardians, they were her family . But what did this talk of trust mean in terms of muggleborns? Was he asking her to trust that they were trying not to kill them? Or trust that they were doing all they could to survive?

So much to think about.

“The next time I meet with the Dark Lord, I will ask him about this,” she said, proffering the now crumbled parchment back to Snape who smoothed it with a wave of his wand and returned it to his inner pocket.

Lucius touched her cheek gently before rising and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“When must you leave?” Narcissa asked, rising from her own chair and making her way to them, her delicate hands resting on Hermione’s shoulders.

“A week,” she replied, reaching to cover Narcissa’s hand with her own.

“Will you stay?” Draco asked, sliding the hood from her hair.

“Please stay,” Theo added, standing to join the group.

Hermione nodded, looking between the Malfoys and Theo... Her family. In the background she saw Blaise, his eyes still distant and trained upon the tabletop. It was easy to see the grief that rolled off of him in waves and it reminded her of how fleeting this life was.

“I’ll stay.”