Once Draco had closed the sitting room door, Hermione allowed herself to relax somewhat. Not completely, mind; for that would be foolish in the extreme in this house. Just enough so that her shoulders no longer ached from the tension. Just enough so that she could worry less about Draco discovering her blindness and pay more attention to her surroundings.

Hermione wondered what she would have been able to see, had she still possessed the sense for it. In her lifetime she had seen only two pureblood dwellings: the Weasleys and the Blacks. Two families that were almost diametrically opposite on every scale – wealth, politics, philosophy; just to name a few. But Hermione suspected that Malfoy Manor would resemble the residence of neither family. Not the Burrow, due to its sheer lack of opulence, although somehow Hermione knew that even if the Weasleys were the wealthiest people alive, their home would still resemble their current abode. It was a part of who they were.

But Hermione could also not imagine Lucius Malfoy living at Grimmauld Place either. That place was far too oppressive and almost bragged of corruption, even after the big clean up of two years ago. That type of home just didn't fit the sense of style she had perceived of Lucius the few times they had met. She may never agree with his views on anything, but even Hermione had to admit – the man had presence.

The grounds would be covered in sweeping lawns and lush gardens that invited one to stay for eternity. Inside the main house, wealth would be displayed in quality rather than quantity. A number of well chosen masterpieces, both paintings and sculptures, would be scattered about the house in strategic settings for maximum effect. Rich timbers, elegantly carved, for the stairs and banisters rather than gilded marble. Chandeliers of the finest crystal would shower light down on furniture by the best craftsmen. This was a home that she could see the Malfoy patriarch claiming as his own.

The Master Suite would, of course, belong to Lucius, and although Narcissa would have her own rooms, they would not be for her benefit. They would exist so that Lucius could exile her there when he chose. While resembling the rest of the house, these rooms would reflect many of Lucius' more personal interests.

There would be one or two guest suites, for close friends or for those who were to be impressed, but most guests would be lodged in the less opulent guest house elsewhere on the estate. Somewhere there would be a grand ballroom, a state-of-the-art potions laboratory, a vast wine cellar...

Hermione dared not think about the library.

And finally there were Draco's rooms. Hermione guessed that they were on an upper floor to bring him closer to the sky. The boy did love to fly. The rooms would be furnished in much the same manner as the rest of the house, but like his father's, would reflect Draco's own personal tastes. No tacky Quidditch posters like Ron, but perhaps a few mementos of his 'victories'; his broom would hold pride of place over the summer months. Hermione suspected there'd be a box secreted away somewhere containing his more guilty treasures.

Like an empty vial that had once held poison.

Ironically it was Draco's bookshelf that first met Hermione's questing fingertips. He'd been right to warn her off its contents, she could almost feel the darkness oozing from some of them. She wondered if he'd actually read those dread tomes, or if he just owned them for show.

Above the bookcase was a window, so Hermione followed the wall to her left until she located where it cornered, then followed that wall. Her luck seemed to be holding as it was an inner wall and she quickly found the fireplace. 'Now, if I'm right... Ah!' Two armchairs sat directly in front of it, angled to face both the fireplace and each other. Hermione checked for a side table and was relieved when she found none. With a little effort she shifted one of the chairs around so that it faced from where she recalled Draco had exited the room.

Hermione then settled herself into the chair to wait, there was little else she could do for now. She closed her eyes and leant her head back, listening to the sounds of the house. While closing her eyes did nothing for her sight, it helped to focus her hearing. At first, the absolute lack of noise unnerved her - she was a city girl by nature, used to the bustle of people and traffic, even in the suburbs. Even Hogwarts had been a constant source of noise, filled with the sounds of ghosts and portraits, students and staff, not to mention the building itself.

But Malfoy Manor was utterly quiet. Hermione found herself tapping her fingers just to hear something. Anything but the awful silence. 'Silence of the grave.' The line came to her and she shivered as if a cold finger had run up her spine. Just then a lark cried outside the window and Hermione started violently, cursing herself even as she did so. She forced herself to calm and moved her left hand well away from the button that she had attached while Draco had been occupied in her bathroom. It was an emergency Portkey arranged by the Order on her behalf. Snap the threads and she would instantly be whisked away to the Burrow.

Hardly Gringotts, but a useful reference point to Apparate from.

Now there were voices beyond the door and Hermione strained to hear. There were two of them; one she recognised as her godson, the other was female and likely to be Narcissa. Or at least it had better be. Besides, anyone else wouldn't have bothered stopping at the door to give last minute instructions. Bellatrix would have just burst in cursing and hexing, and the few other women Hermione suspected would be welcome in Draco's home wouldn't be in a position to order him to do anything.

As the door opened, Hermione made sure she gave all outward appearance that she was well in control of all her faculties. She stood as Draco and his mother entered the room and waited to be introduced. She did not have to wait long. "Mother, may I introduce my guest, Miss Hermione Granger, a Muggleborn Gryffindor and friend to Harry Potter. Granger, this is my mother."

Hermione started in on the usual pleasantries. Inclining her head slightly and smiling in what she hoped was a polite, yet pleasant manner, she said, "Mrs Malfoy, it is a pleasure to finally meet you, although I wish it could be under better circumstances."

Narcissa was silent for a time before replying, to the point that Hermione became slightly concerned that the woman wasn't sizing her up but was silent because of some slight that Hermione had given. But before long she spoke. "I have often heard your name in these rooms, Miss Granger, although never in a manner that would have suggested that you would one day be visiting them. Draco has spoken of your academic prowess outstripping his own and of your invaluable aid to his rival. But never once has he mentioned your disability."

Hermione was shocked. Ten seconds in a room with this woman and she had already discerned her greatest weakness. Draco, on the other hand, was merely confused. "Disability? Mother, what are you on about?"

"I'm not surprised that you didn't notice, my dear. So few wizards have experience with her affliction, although I must say that she hides it very well."

Draco looked over at Hermione but failed to see what his mother was talking about. "Hides what?"

"Can you not see it, Draco?" Narcissa found the pun amusing. "She is blind."

Draco looked more closely at his godmother as some of the odd things he'd noticed began to fit. That creepy way she had of looking through him. Dobby believing he'd get away with his prank. 'Come to think of it, I haven't seen her do anything,' he thought. He hadn't seen her walk about, pick up a tea cup, or even glance at a book. For any complex task that had required sight, she'd successfully directed his attention elsewhere. Draco was forced to agree with his mother - she was very good. And undoubtedly the most deceptive Gryffindor he'd ever met. If not for her parentage, Draco would have suspected she'd been mis-sorted.

Hermione recovered quickly. It was all well and good to protect a secret, provided that one was able to determine its weakness upon discovery. "How did you know, Mrs Malfoy? As you said, the average witch wouldn't notice. So how, or rather who taught you to recognise the signs?"

With an air of superiority, Narcissa deigned to inform her, "Ten years ago I had the opportunity to observe an expert in the home of a friend." There was no need to tell her everything though, so Narcissa shifted the topic back to her guest. "You are good, Miss Granger, but she was better. Have you been blind long?"

"A few weeks, this time." At Narcissa's inquisitive look, the silence of which was almost palpable, Hermione elucidated, "It's a recurring problem."

With a flash of the insight that had brought her to pre-eminence among her peers and secured her position as Lucius' wife, the truth was revealed to her. "And would this recurring problem have anything to do with your presence in my home?"

Hermione let herself give a half smile. Was this the sort of challenging conversation she could have expected had things gone to plan six years ago? She hoped so. "Partly. As I'm sure Draco has told you, he has convinced me to speak up on his behalf should Harry win. In order to do that, two things must occur: Draco must survive the war and I must be in a position of influence at its end. Professor Snape can solve both these problems."

"What does Severus have to do with this?" Narcissa asked nervously. If anyone from the Order of the Phoenix discovered her complicity in the death of Dumbledore, she'd be in almost as much trouble as his killer.

"With your husband in Azkaban, it is the Professor's duty as Draco's godfather to see to his safety," Hermione explained. "And if I'm to have any influence after the war, I can't be seen as Harry Potter's poor little blind friend. Professor Snape is the only one who can cure my... condition."

Narcissa went on the defensive. Sometimes she reacted poorly to things she hadn't anticipated, her visit to Severus last year being evidence of that. "I sympathise, my dear," she said with a distinct lack of sincerity, "but I fail to see..."

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" Gryffindors had a reputation for bluntness and a lack of finesse, something that Hermione occasionally enjoyed taking advantage of. "We're both well aware that you know where Professor Snape is. As Draco will tell you, I've already given Wand Oath that I intend him no harm, nor do I intend to use this information to discredit your family any further. In fact, should today go well, then the name Malfoy will shortly become respected once more. All that remains is for you to name your price."

"I admit to knowing no such thing." Narcissa stated firmly. "But assuming for the moment that I had even the vaguest notion of where to begin looking for such a dangerous criminal, only one price could satisfy my efforts and risk: you have already agreed to deliver my son from the Ministry's clutches. For this you will deliver my husband as well."

Exactly as Hermione had expected, but she covered her satisfaction with a frown. "Impossible. I can get Draco off on his youth, the pressure against his family and Harry's testimony that he couldn't go through with it. But your husband fought openly in front of witnesses on You-Know-Who's side in the Department of Mysteries before his arrest. Add to that the facts of his previous implication in both the First Rise and the release of a Basilisk into Hogwarts my second year, through the use of Tom Riddle's own diary? It'll be fifty years before he sees the light of day."

Narcissa felt a small thrill of excitement. With that last statement, the girl had effectively signed Lucius' release. All that remained now were the details and negotiating those could take some time. She summoned the room's other wing backed chair and sat facing the girl, who must have determined Narcissa's intentions from the noise and had resumed her seat. From a distance of just under five feet, Narcissa studied the calm face of her opponent. Obviously, she had intended to open negotiations with that comment and was ready to bargain hard. Impressive for a Gryffindor.

For Hermione's part, she was both anxious and nervous, but she also felt that thrill. Hermione could almost feel time slipping away from her and she worried that there was not much left to waste. Narcissa was proving to be a shrewd and intuitive woman, but would she sense Hermione's need to be on the move? It was a weakness that she could ill afford, so she put aside her worries and doubts. At the same time she smothered her rising excitement. She'd been right, she knew it. Living in Slytherin would have been a constant challenge, proving her worth and abilities to those above her, occasionally bringing one crashing down, all the while constantly on the alert for attacks by those below. How she sometimes wished the Sorting Hat had put her where she belonged.

In the end, an agreement was reached. After a hard half hour of flattery, insults, bribery, blackmail, lies, truths and half-truths; carefully worded promises were made. Within the hour, Narcissa would escort Draco and Hermione to Severus Snape's safe house and leave them there. In return, Draco's first child would meet their newly freed grandfather for the first time on Christmas Day, their first year at Hogwarts.

The best bargains always end with both sides believing they had got the best of the deal.

-----------

Near an hour later, at the end of a cobblestone street in the shadow of an immense chimney, three cloaked and hooded figures appeared. Narcissa had chosen her spot well. Despite the abandoned nature of the area, there was always the chance that someone was watching. From one vantage point, it would appear as if they had just walked around the corner, previously hidden from view by a tall fence. From the other they would never be seen at all. Narcissa had also chosen it so that they wouldn't have to go clambering through that blasted fence again.

As she guided her son and the Granger girl up the street to their destination, she answered Draco's casual query as to their location. Later she would decide that she'd been disoriented by Apparating three people several times over, otherwise she would never have answered his question. "Some abandoned Muggle village." Narcissa didn't bother hiding her contempt for the ruined and boarded up houses surrounding them. "Spinner's End, the street is..." Narcissa didn't finish that sentence. Instead, she turned to look at the girl, who had stopped walking.

"Spinner's End?" Hermione murmured in near disbelief. Then she began to laugh.

Draco shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's the second time today she's done that," he told his mother. "I'm beginning to wonder if she's entirely sane."

"Oh, I'm not mad, Draco," Hermione replied between chuckles. "Or at least, not in the conventional sense. I was just reminded of something my parents used to tell me as a child. 'Mind you don't go near Spinner's End' they'd tell me. Something Dark happened here years ago, something that drove everyone away. Huh, I guess that must have been his doing."

"You can't be serious," Draco scoffed. "This place looks nothing like where you live."

"If you look to the south, you'll see a church steeple tiled in red and brown about five miles away. My home is four streets over. Now do you understand? Since the first day I met him, I've wondered about Professor Snape's home and he was practically on my doorstep the entire time." Hermione chuckled again.

"Hilarious," Draco drawled. "Now can we get going? I don't like being out in the open like this."

That was a sentiment they could all agree to wholeheartedly, and the three quickly made their way to the ramshackle house at the end of the short street; Draco guiding Hermione by the elbow while his mother lead the way. Very shortly they were standing on the step of the dilapidated building, waiting for its owner to answer the door...

Before long the door cracked open and from the shadows peered a single glittering black eye. Despite their cloaked appearances, the door opened wider a moment later to reveal a calm yet wary Severus Snape. "Narcissa, I hope this visit isn't as dire as your last." He turned his head to greet his godson and former pupil, "Draco, Happy Birthday."

Severus faced the last of his visitors, her features hidden in the depths of her cloak's hood. "I've been wondering when I'd see you, Miss Granger."