Chapter

After staring at Draco's door for another eight minutes, Hermione finally turned her back to it and left. She marched straight to her room and immediately began to throw any object which came within hand's reach, the first being a candlestick holder, with vocalizations to accompany each resounding crash and thud. When she ran out of things to throw, which was a little past two minutes since the destruction had begun, she soon began to blow things up from a distance with her raw, wandless-magic.

Later, when reflecting back on that moment, Hermione would think that there could have been a more mature, equally effective way to handle her emotions, as she realized much later that magically repaired objects are never quite the same as their pre-exploded state. However, at the time, she could not help but resort to the juvenile tactic of "having a fit" to adequately express herself.

After throwing and blowing up objects about for the time span of seventeen minutes and forty three seconds, she suddenly came to a halt when she realized what object she was holding. It was a picture frame of her, Ron and Harry their first year. The three of them, still awkward with one another, had looked at the camera shyly, but with smiles on their faces at their newfound friendship, one that Hermione had always believed would last a lifetime.

She never knew life could change so fast.

In that moment, Hermione firmly decided nothing, absolutely nothing, would bring back the Hermione Granger she knew. This had always been quite blatantly apparent before, but she had shied away from it as though hoping like a child it would all simply go away when she closed her eyes, like a bad dream.

Hermione Granger no longer had a mother or a father. She had no friends. Her escapades with Harry and Ron were nullified the moment she discovered the truth.

Hermione Granger didn't exist.

She took this opportunity to throw a few more objects about.

Rather than allow this to defeat her, she found strength in her bitter loneliness. Hermione had overcome hardships before, such as the time when she had first arrived at grade school and had trouble fitting in due to her brilliant intelligence, or when she discovered she would always be considered an outcast from wizarding society by some people due to her blood. It was rather ironic how blood was now the same thing which would isolate her once more.

Her room was a mess. Shards of glass littered the floor. The few books which had made their ways into her hands had charred pages with the missing pages scattered about. Feathers dusted everything from her dresser to her desk in a blanket of snow and her curtains were in tatters.

She took a deep breath.

One by one, she began to reassemble her things. Objects which could not be conjured back together, which were few, she properly discarded in the trash. In a way, it was her method of organizing her feelings and her thoughts. Methodical processes always calmed her, which was why she enjoyed subjects such as Potions or Arithmacy that had an emphasis on method and order.

By the time her bedroom was organized and she was ready for bed, it was four in the morning. Rather than staying awake, she thought she would benefit from even a short nap and decided to retire into her newly repaired furniture.

Hermione stood on the very outskirts of the circle surrounding the platform in which wands were waved and hexes thrown in Defense Against the Dark Arts, able to view it only in the spaces between the heads and shoulders of students before her. Still, when the duel began she would have a decent view, even if it would be in rather episodic flashes.

More than usual, the volume of the room was louder. While the class had always been accompanied by the not so quiet murmurs of students as they gossiped and made behind the table bets on the day's winners, today the buzzing had become a loud roar. Hermione, however, paid little attention to it as she regarded the platform before her. The last time she had been up there had been in her duel with Harry and Ron. Since then, she had had a certain aversion to Defense Again the Dark Arts.

"Silence!" Professor Lupin shouted and the chatter within the room quieted down, though not completely. When the professor had received most everyone's attention, he began to speak. "The rules are the same as usual. Defendants may submit the name of his Offender into the cup. Once all names have been gathered, they shall be removed one by one and each dispute will be resolved by a fair duel in front of their peers." He paused to look about the room. It seemed as though he thought to say more, but thought better of it. "If there are no questions, we shall begin."

The usual hustle which followed Lupin's announcement was absent. The room was silent as a select few moved to grab sheets and write names down. Others who tried to make a move for the cup where held back by their peers. A few quiet whispers and wide eyes later, the individual would stay put and turn to regard the platform, until eventually all eyes watched with quiet anticipation and wariness as the students awaited the announcement of the first name.

"Draco Malfoy"

This came as no surprise for Hermione, as Draco's name was called usually once a week, if not more frequently. As Draco made his way to the platform, it seemed that Harry would be the first to take him on. No others approached the stage, which was unusual. Usually an offender, especially one such as Draco Malfoy had multiple defenders, if only to brag later that they got a shot on him. Today, he had only one: Harry Potter.

Hermione frowned as her hand unconsciously gripped her wand tighter.

Professor Snape made his way to the center of the dueling platform. While whispers still flew as Professor Lupin spoke, the presence of Professor Snape made the room become deathly silent. A wand could have dropped with a resounding thud.

"While I demand a fair duel, I know better than to expect one," Snape sneered in the direction of Potter. Harry scowled at this, and Hermione could see those within the House of Gryffindor become upset at the Professor's implication if their chattering was anything to go by.

Professor Snape stood in the middle of the platform, wand arm raised as Professor Lupin placed the necessary enchantments to prevent significant injury. From her vantage point, she could see the look shared between the Professor and Draco, as though to warn him. Draco brushed it off easily enough, as though he had little concern, breaking the silent conversation to glance at her. She looked at him, blood pounding in her ears in dreadful anticipation of these odd circumstances. She could imagine the look the Professor gave him was one to keep him on his toes. She hoped he would heed caution. Once Lupin gave a nod to Professor Snape, the Professor's arm dropped and they were off.

It was difficult to tell who fired the first spell, for spells flew from both their wand-tips. It was clear that Draco had the edge. Hermione could see him gauging Harry, to further analyze his weaknesses before going in for the kill. He fired one spell after the next to maintain a constant offense which would keep Harry moving and unable to stop.

As Hermione watched Harry's movements though, the uneasy feeling began to grow further inside of her. Harry was never one to hesitate in a duel. He was fast, rather inefficient, and more about power than strategy. He would exert his energy tirelessly to overwhelm his opponent if it would achieve its goal and tackle a challenge head on. It was rather opposite of Draco who chose to use the least amount of power for the greatest impact. Thus, Draco spent much of his time lazily studying his opponent and attacking at their weakest moment.

Then, the most peculiar thing happened. As she bit her lip, her eyes met Draco's. Harry took advantage of the distraction and took aim at Draco's left arm with a slicing hex. The spell caught Draco off guard as he narrowly avoided it, breaking eye contact, the spell only nicking his shirt, but Hermione realized, that was the intention all along, for exposed was his Dark Mark in its eternally black ink. She felt those around her shiver as the duel came to an end. Both sides stopped firing as Draco instinctively used his right hand to cover the Mark and what little blood there was. Hermione glanced over at the Gryffindors only to observe Lavender Brown record something in her notebook. So that was their plan then, they were going to uncover those with the Dark Mark one by one while searching for the Angelus.

It was a dirty trick.

Draco continued to stand with his hand on his mark, blood dropping rhythmically onto the platform, but no one moved as an eerie silence filled the air.

Hermione stood frozen, torn between standing her ground and running to him.

He looked so lost standing on that platform, one man against an army of people. This alone would not have called to her, as she understood the loneliness of life's journey. Instead, it was his eyes. To any other, it would appear as though Draco Malfoy was shocked. In part, this was true. However, it was the look of truth in his eyes, as though this was his fate, to be alone and unwanted, that made her heart cry. He stood as someone who had accepted that he was labeled as a murder in the eyes of his peers, the enemy, and that their scrutiny was his deserved punishment.

Hermione stood in her place as anger consumed her. Her Guardian should be proud of who he was and never accept the shame as truth. She knew logically if she ran up to the platform it would only bring further danger to the both of them. Before, he was Draco. No one had actually seen the mark, save for a select few. Now, however, it was like the pink elephant in the room that all were now forced to acknowledge. He was branded, a servant to the Dark Lord.

The old Hermione would have run out there, not giving a damn about the consequences. She had done that more than enough times with Harry and Ron through their years at the school, but she knew better than that now and had more discipline.

Still, she burned inside for Draco's embarrassment and shame.

Finally, he moved towards her, off the platform and she took a small step forward to receive him, then another and another, making her way as calmly as she could to the front of the platform. It was appropriate, as long as she didn't look too desperate. The other students still stood in place, unable to move in shock of observing such a mark on one of their peers. Once she reached him, she took a handkerchief from her bag to press against his arm. Perhaps part of it was an act, but another part of her didn't want him to expose that part of himself, a part which was so easy to judge. In that moment, she forgot what had transpired last night. That would be solved another time. Now was her time to stand by her Guardian.

It was strange that neither Hermione nor Draco thought to heal the cut magically, she thought to herself much later in the confines of her room. The conclusion she came upon was that some wounds were perhaps better left to be healed by time.

Draco covered her hand in his. The move surprised her as she looked up at him, wide-eyed. He quickly looked away and dropped her hand so that his hung by his side once more.

Stubbornly, she tied the handkerchief around his forearm and slid her hand into his. She squeezed firmly, yet gently, as though to tell him to stay put. He obeyed and they watched the crowd woke up from their stupor and Professor Lupin called out the name of Blaise.

Hand in hand, they stood, the occasional drop of blood falling onto the floor as they silently observed the next battle between Blaise and Terry Boot.

Blaise walked up to the platform with a poise of confidence. Now that the House knew the game, they would best them easily enough. Hermione knew as well that Terry would be no match for Blaise.

Indeed, that proved to be the case. Once the duel began, Blaise fired off the first spell, making Boot duel much more defensively than he would have liked, if his furrowed eyebrows were anything to go by.

Blaise played the field defensively, more so than Draco had now that he knew their tactic. He always stayed one step in front of Boot, his style being that of a defensive fighter with much less flair than Draco. However, each spell he fired had a quiet sort of power, like a lion on the prowl just waiting for the right time to strike. After a good amount of hexes, He delivered the same slicing hex that Harry had used on Draco on Boot's forearm.

The message was not lost on the Gryffindor house.

This was war.

Once the duel had ended, Blaise sent a smirk to Draco. Hermione could feel Draco tense up, before he let go of her hand and left the room. Hermione thought to follow after him, but thought better of it. The professors were unlikely to notice the absence of one student. Given that it was Draco Malfoy, she thought they would be even more lenient. However, if two students were go to missing, that would be another issue. Besides, Hermione had no good excuse to leave, and as a result she was stuck watching the next duel between Vincent and some student from Ravenclaw.

The rest of the period fared well enough. It was rather obvious that many of the matches were uneven in terms of playing field. Much of Slytherin house had grown with tutors on the arts of dueling as it was common in the old days to duel for honor. Even Vincent and Crabbe, who looked slow and dull, were surprisingly quick on their feet, which played to their advantage. Thus, while Vincent and Crabbe both came out of their matches triumphant, a few of the younger Slytherins did not fare as well. Lucky for them, they were all unbranded.

All in all, six matches were held that day and only one had proved fruitful for the House of Gryffindor. It was certainly not a victory, but they had gotten their prize: confirmation of Draco Malfoy's allegiance to the Dark Lord.

She stood quietly as Professor Lupin gave a closing lecture on how the students had fared that day. She thought it was a rather poor one as she could see he was obviously upset, either that his own house had used such underhanded tricks or at the thought that Draco Malfoy was truly a Death Eater. She could not tell which it was.

Once class was dismissed, she quickly grabbed her bag and left. She wanted to linger there no longer than needed. Her focus had waned after Draco had left and she wanted nothing more than to track him down to see how he was faring.

"Deatheater whore," a sixth year ravenclaw hissed as she passed by bumping into Hermione's arm so that she was nearly checked into the wall.

"Her own house was too good for her so she had to dig around in the trash," another first year Gryffindor whispered to her group of girlfriends as they passed by. While not nearly as harsh, seeing as how she was addressing a senior in her house, it was still very low.

Hermione continued to walk without regard to the comments. She had heard enough hateful comments in the past few weeks. She had heard them enough in grade school as well after the freak accidental magic incident where she had set her teacher's clothes on fire for treating her like an imbecile. It was a part of her nature to be the outsider, oftentimes due to circumstance more so than her willingness.

"You should pay them no attention."

Hermione turned to look around and saw Blaise. He stood against the wall as students continued to pass by them, blatantly staring at the strange exchange between Gryffindor and Slytherin. She looked at him in mild surprise, having been caught up in her thoughts as he let out a small laugh.

"You should see your eyes Granger, they're the size of saucers!" he chuckled. A few more students turned to look at what all the commotion was about.

Hermione couldn't help but blush in embarrassment, conscious of all the eyes watching them all the while. She wanted to take their conversation to a place where she would be under less scrutiny.

Blaise finally regained his composure. He leaned in casually and whispered, "In any case, I'm supposed to relay a message."

Hermione looked at him with a small frown, mostly to play the part. In reality, she wanted to tell him to take a step back so that he was out of her bubble. She did not need more rumors to fly around the castle. "Why don't we go check the schedule? Then we can see if anyone is available to take your prefect duties for tonight. " She looked at him with genuine disapproval. "You do realize you'll have to do rounds some other night?"

Blaise just smiled as he opened his arm as though inviting her to lead the way. Hermione stopped herself from rolling her eyes at Blaise's dramatic antics and began to walk down the hall to create some distance between not only themselves and the student body but between herself and Blaise as well.

As they walked down the hall the number of students began to dwindle until there was only the two of them left. Very few students ever wandered into the dungeons, especially this year with the circumstances around them, so they had no trouble finding some privacy.

"A certain professor would like to have a word with you," Blaise finally announced when they had nearly reached the Head Dormitories.

Hermione couldn't help but frown further at the mention of Professor Snape. Perhaps this was how Draco felt whenever he was summoned by the Professor. She could sympathize with him. She felt rather like a child being chastised.

"He wants you to stop by later tonight, when everyone is otherwise occupied," Blaise explained with a smile. "I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," she replied.

"Draco will be there as well," Blaise whispered, as if it were an afterthought.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. It was one thing to meet the Professor alone. It was another thing all together to meet the Professor together.

Blaise laughed. "I see the thought doesn't suit you."

Hermione shook her head. "It's fine. Things with Draco have been-" she stopped. While it was true that things between her and Draco had not been pleasant as of late, it would not be good to start any rumors, even if this was Blaise she was talking to.

He merely shook his head in understanding. "He'll come around."

She looked at him with mild surprise.

Blaise grinned. "You should have seen us as children. It's only after all these years that Draco finally accepts the fact that someone could possibly care about him. The fact that you're a girl complicates matters."

"Complicates matters?" Hermione asked even more confused than before.

Blaise shrugged it off as he turned away to leave.

"Ask Draco about it sometime," he exclaimed, leaving Hermione alone to wonder what it was that Blaise meant.

Little more happened until they were to meet. Hermione attended her remaining classes and meal times as usual, albeit, quite alone. She had tried to find Draco after their lesson, but he remained elusive. He wasn't present at meals and during their classes he remained stoically silent, only to disappear the moment the two of them were alone.

She heard the whispers, the frightened looks between the younger students and especially the muggle-borns. It questioned her decision and made her resolve waver. Even if she forsook the Dark Lord, it was unlikely the wizarding world would embrace her. Instead, they may fear her even more, for she would surely look to be the next Dark Lord, or more appropriately, Lady. The bottom line would be that she would remain an outcast, estranged from those loyal to her in the past and shunned by those once her enemies.

She let out a sigh, setting down her book. She had always wanted to fit in.

She looked to the door one last time, willing it to open before she finally set out.

Draco would not come.

She made sure to cloak herself in a simple disillusionment charm. She knew it would do nothing to hide her from the professors determined to find her, but it worked for simple purposes. She took less frequented routes from her rooms to her Professor's, or at least, the vicinity of his quarters. She had never been there of course, and they were the thing of rumor among the Gryffindors. She laughed at the thought. She found it very unlikely that his room with be filled with any of the likes the first year Gryffindors suggested.

When she had returned to her quarters earlier, she had found no trace of Draco. She had waited for a while in the common room reading a book, so that she could check up on him and so that they may go down together or at least, different-paths-same-endpoint together. However, even as the hour passed into two, she saw no sight of him. Thus, with eleven o'clock fast approaching, she decided to venture out without him.

"Miss Granger."

She whipped around to face who she knew to be Severus, heart pounding. She had suspected that he would sense her. However, she had thought to approach him, not the other way around. The Professor was well hidden in the shadows of the corridor. After checking to make sure no one was around, she canceled the disillusionment charm upon her.

"Professor," she addressed. He stepped out of the shadows and gave her a small bow.

"Draco is slacking in his responsibilities," was his flat reply.

Hermione turned her face away from him, looking to the floor her hands clasped in each other rather awkwardly as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I have not seen him."

Severus made a frown. Instead of voicing his opinion on the matter, however, he approached her and held out his arm. "I was informed that you were not aware of where my quarters were. Come, I will show you."

Hermione looked up at him hesitantly. "But the students-"

"Taken care of," he replied coolly, as though irritated that she was questioning his competence. "I sent those imbeciles to bed long before your arrival" and with a pause he said in a whisper, "Angelus."

She shivered at the sound of her name. She trusted Severus, however, and took hold of his arm. He had not betrayed her that night so long ago when she had first found out about her heritage and had also gave her his council and advice. Thus, even while he may have killed the headmaster, she had to believe it was with reason, even if a part of her still questioned whose side he was on.

He led her down the hall, only to pause at a blank wall. There was no portrait, nothing to mark it as the entrance to living quarters which Hermione found rather odd.

The only thing she saw, upon further observation was a single engraving upon the brick.

"The Prince crest," Severus replied as he tapped his wand upon the brick and whispered an incantation. Immediately, the bricks sprang to life to form a dark wooden door in front of her. "The crest changes from time to time," he commented as the door solidified. "Sometimes it determines that I am a Snape."

Hermione saw his attempt at humor and gave him a small smile. She could see the mirth reflected in his eyes, even while his face betrayed none of his inner humor.

She let go of his arm as his hand went to open the door. He gestured her inwards first and followed behind her.

She found herself in a sitting room. Before the fire was a love seat and a set of high back chairs, each furnished with lush upholstery and cushions of a rich cream gold and ruby tone. There was a rug to accompany the coffee table which had a tray of tea and biscuits upon it.

"If you would prefer something more substantial, such as sandwiches, please do not hesitate to ask," the Professor said as he indicated to her to sit. "I am to understand that those of the female species prefer to avoid late night snacking."

Hermione held back a small laugh and smiled. She replied, "Quite often they go against their own advice in front of such temptations," as she sat down on the loveseat and the Professor on the high back chair to her left.

"Tea?" he asked as he began to pour himself a cup.

"Yes please," Hermione replied as the Professor also poured her a cup and set it down on a saucer in front of her.

She took in the pleasant aroma as she held the cup up to her mouth and took a sip. She let out a small sigh and then set her cup back down. She had been in the Professors' quarters for just under ten minutes. However, she knew the moment she had walked in that Draco Malfoy would not be accompanying them tonight.

"Draco's not coming, is he?" Hermione stated.

Professor Snape set down his tea cup as he shifted his weight in his chair, as though he were preparing himself to sit for a while and contemplate his thoughts.

"I believe you are right," he stated after a small silence.

Hermione wasn't quite sure how she felt. The most prominent feeling was probably hurt. Others were mixed in with it: confused, angry, sad.

The professor was silent for a long while after when he finally got up and moved to a rather tall book shelf occupying one corner of the sitting room. There he paused and looked back at Hermione.

"Angelus," he began, "What do you know of life-blood oaths and wizarding tradition?"

Hermione looked at him confused. "Are they not very similar to wand oaths?"
Severus Snape looked at her with what looked like barely concealed astonishment. It quickly left his features as he quickly grabbed a text from the shelf. He paused and grabbed a few more and brought them before Hermione.

"While Narcissa is rarely negligent to the education of proper etiquette of those under her care, I believe she forgot your truly muggle background. As such, it seems she thought some lessons too trivial to teach to someone so old and in need of much more advanced lessons when faced with such immediate danger as observed at the Ball," the Professor explained. "I believe it is my duty then to inform you of the extreme basics."

Hermione looked at the text set in front of her. The cover of it was of a rich burgundy color and looked to be a rather lengthy text. The title of it covered in faded gold foil read A Basic Comprehensive Understanding of Pureblood Society and Tradition for the Commoner. Hermione scoffed inwardly. She was far from a commoner. She supposed it was the author's pleasant way of saying outsider.

"You are free to take this text with you Angelus as you may return it when you are finished and as long as no one knows you are in possession of such texts. They are rather rare and people would question how you came into possession of them. However, at this moment, I would like for you to turn to chapter 7 titled Rites and Passages: an overview. I believe it will aid you greatly at this moment," the Professor explained and after observing Hermione for a moment, he retreated from the room, leaving Hermione to her own devices.

She found herself pleasantly comfortable, despite the foreign place she was in. The armchair she sat in was firm, but had enough softness for support and comfort. She balanced her cup of tea and, after a moment of hesitation, a small plate of biscuits on the armrest. Even while they looked rather perilously close to falling off, Hermione was an expert at this and knew they would stay put as long as she made no sudden movements. Thus, she settled in and began to read the chapter Professor Snape had suggested.

It is of note that the information contained within this chapter covers only the very surface of the tradition within the rites and passages of pureblood society, for only those within society know the true secrets and those secrets are not shared lightly with outsiders. Even half-bloods or purebloods within the lower circles of society know only rumors of the rites and passages of the elite.

However, it is relatively common knowledge that there are three levels of rites and passages. The first of these is what is commonly known as a wand oath. This is a rite which began within pureblood circles and was commonly exchanged with non-purebloods to ensure secrets were kept. This is because the word of a non-pureblood held less value than that of a pureblood, since a broken word was the equivalent of losing face within society and the faith of allies and followers. In a wand oath, while several variations exist, the simplest one is one in which the oath keeper and oath giver hold wand arms as a witness casts the spells. These spells range from simple death upon failure to keep the oath to curses which may last for several generations within the blood line.

The second level of rites and passages are those involving a blood oath. These are often only preformed within pureblood circles since often outsiders have insufficient knowledge of the actual rites themselves which often results in disastrous outcomes. The most recent famous example was that of a young man named Terrence who had knowingly and unknowingly pledged a blood oath to his first love which resulted in her death and subsequently his death as well (See chapter nine for more detail). Often in pureblood marriage a blood oath is taken. While the practice has fallen out of vogue within the past century, the elite pureblood families still perform the rites. In addition, blood oaths may be made within families between father and sons in terms of duty to family, fathers and daughters in terms of her chastity and her duty of marriage to strength familial ties, and so on.

The third and most severe and serious of rites and passages are those involving an exchange of life's blood in addition to a blood oath. An exchange of life's blood and its exact procedures are unknown to those but the very noblest of pureblood families, the Seven Ancient Families. While the rites are unknown, the ramifications are profoundly understood. An exchange of life's blood is the ultimate oath one can make as it means their life is at the mercy of the giver or receiver of the life's blood. Ultimately it would mean the life or death of that individual is at the mercy of the donor/receiver such that their will is no longer their own. However, while this rite is common knowledge, in the history of the wizarding world there has been no actual documentation of such a rite having been preformed, so much of our knowledge is based off of myth, legend and rumor.

As a side note, scholars believe the strange occurrence of life debt seems to occur as a combination of an exchange of life's blood and blood oath. Something must occur between that threshold of life and death in which savior is determined and is considered the equivalent of an exchange and acknowledgement of life's blood having been exchanged. While not as severe as an exchange of life's blood, it nonetheless holds the recipient in the hold of their savior until such a favor can be returned.

In addition, there are other blood magicks, but to list them in this chapter would be too great. For further details, I would suggest looking at Abigail Skinner's text on Blood Magicks: Their Origins and Effects on both Parties. The rest of this chapter will look further into these three subjects and an outsider's current understanding of them.

Hermione set the text down, worried it would slip from the grasp of her fingers, to contemplate what was written within it, the blood pounding in her ears.

"I've essentially made him into a slave," Hermione whispered in lament, her heart wrenching. She had only meant to save his life. She thought he was doing him a favor. Now she understood that any evasion of death had its costs.

"Made more so by his blood oath along with the two life debts he owes you," the Professor stated. Hermione was not surprised to find him in the room. He was probably allowing her some privacy while she read the text, only to discuss it with her later. "I do not believe I've ever heard of an exchange of life's blood, let alone having it been done three times."

Hermione looked at him for an explanation.

"Once when you were mere babies, Draco gave his life's blood to affirm his Guardianship over you. Marcus and Lillian wanted it as an affirmation of the Malfoy's loyalty to the Angelus family. I believe however, since you were both so young, such a rite would have little hold over yourselves other than to solidify family ties.

The second time would have been earlier this year when Draco had returned from his mission. That time and the time at the ball after that would have further sealed his fate and bound him to you. As a result, his fate is ultimately intertwined with yours," the Professor explained.

Hermione thought about this but had difficulty grasping the implications. She instead, took a sip of tea to help calm her thoughts, so that she could slowly begin to organize fact from feeling.

"I thought about your relationship since I first witnessed your healing of Draco and more so after I heard news of the events at the ball." Snape explained. "He is an extension of yourself, essentially. There are scholars who say that an exchange of life's blood is not so different from splitting your soul. The difference lies within fact that life's blood is of the physical body whereas your soul is of your spiritual self. However, the line between physical and spiritual becomes hazy, especially so close to death. Thus, it is my belief that Draco holds much tighter binds upon himself than would be expected. I'm sure he has figured out part of this himself, or at least, thought of the possibility."

"Oh my god," Hermione exclaimed, her muggle upbringing supplying her only possible reply at a moment such as this. Hermione realized what the Professor was saying. Draco Malfoy no longer had a will. Her word was his will, and his failure to execute it would result in punishment, possibly his death. He was her pawn. There was no dignity, no pride left.

Perhaps that is what the Dark Lord had wanted all along the night of the ball. The show she had put on not only affirmed her status and her ability, but the Dark Lord had perhaps hoped that such enslavement would have caused the isolation of herself from her Guardian. It was quite a vulnerable state.

Hermione found she had a deep, newfound respect for Malfoy. Had it been herself, she would have fallen into a deep depression and very likely more. All her dreams of the future, as bleak as they were currently, would be gone with the wind. She would be an empty vessel.

"It cannot be undone?" Hermione asked even while she knew the answer.

"No," the Professor replied firmly. "You must find out where to go from here."

Hermione could see him outside her window. He stood solitary, alone by the black lake, a mere shadow. From time to time she would see him in that exact area leaning against an ash tree which encompassed the northern end of Dumbledore's tomb. Occasional ripples spread across the lake in time with the passing breeze.

She wanted to know what he was thinking, being in such a lonely place surrounded by the constant reminders of his failure. How much had changed since that night for him. She could not imagine what it would feel like to be in his position.

When Hermione had returned from Professor Snape's office, she had tried to make a list of what she had learned, the circumstances as they were right now, and their implications on the future. Writing down what she had learned had been easy enough, but she had no idea where to begin with the circumstances right now, let alone the future.

The only thing she knew for sure was that she would never knowingly take advantage of the position Draco was in. She would never hand him a direct order. Instead, she would from this moment forward do her best to respect his position and his thoughts on matters. He was her Guardian, but she would be damned if she let him become her slave. No one should have their will taken away from them, even if they receive life in return.

The only thing was that Hermione did not know how to convince Draco of this fact. He would not believe her if she told him. He would probably think she was seeing him as a pity case and would be even more angered at her actions and that would do nothing good for their relationship, whatever that was.

As such, Hermione spent the rest of the time figuring out a plan, all while watching Draco outside her frosted window.

Her feet were cold and her hands were numb. The icy winter wind burned her lungs. She could barely see more than a few feet in front of her even with the light from her wand.

Out there in the snow was probably the last place she wanted to be at two in the morning, but she was getting tired of all the games Draco and her had been playing this past month. It was time to settle things once and for all, so she walked on even as every bone in her body wanted her to turn back and snuggle into warm covers.

Draco Malfoy wasn't quite sure what he was doing outside at two in the morning with little more than his school robes to keep him warm on this cold winter night. He had lost feeling in his extremities approximately an hour ago and, in some sick way, it was rather comforting to him.

He had seen her about fifteen minutes ago, a black-brown blur among the white landscape, increasing in size as time passed. He had considered leaving. He was in no mood to put up with her heroic antics at this time of night as he had enough of his own thoughts to deal with. He had already decided to leave three minutes ago, so he wasn't quite sure why he stood there waiting for their certain rather ugly confrontation.

"Granger" Draco greeted her as she approached, her form still obscured in the night, before he could bring his body to walk away. He shifted his weight from his right foot to his left.

"Malfoy," Hermione replied as she finally came to a halt. She stood about a foot away from him. He was still leaning against the ash tree, arms crossed. Dumbledore's tomb, a small distance to their right gave off an eerie sort of glow even in the absence of full moonlight. She stood, barely visible in the darkness and the falling snow.

"You know Granger," Draco began, "often the purpose of leaving the castle, especially at this hour of the night, is to be alone. I believe your presence out here makes my effort rather futile."

He saw the way she pulled into herself, hands sliding into the pockets of her robes, legs straight with no mind of walking and bending. He imagined she was quite possibly biting her lip, as though trying to figure out what was the most appropriate thing to say without escalating this into another once of their spectacular arguments. He had quite thoroughly heard all her theatrics the night before. His amusement at her anger made him forget his own, so instead of going about in the same manner as her, he had instead sat down and tracked each bursting flare of magic. He was sure if he had been witness to it, her magical presence would have been magnificent.

"You're stating the obvious," she finally said, breaking his train of thought.

"I do not believe there are rules against stating the obvious," Draco replied, eyebrow raised, as she too was stating the obvious.

"You're being a prat," Hermione replied. He could feel her frustration in her stress of the p in "prat" and the slight pause right before she said it. Maybe he was sick in the head if something like Hermione Granger's frustration gave him some sort of amusement.

"Well that's something," was Draco's reply.

Hermione had no reply for that.

Draco had avoided her since the duel that afternoon. He had no desire to see that look in her eyes again, that look of something akin to pity, or worse, understanding.

He had known before his duel began that today would be different. Blaise had approached him before the period to mention the whispers circulating among the students. While no one in Slytherin knew exactly what was going on, everyone knew that it could not be good news.

Thus, when Draco was approached with none other than Harry Potter, he knew some scheme had been planned. Still, he was frustrated with himself for allowing Potter to win. He should have been more alert.

He had been waiting for the right moment to strike when, in his periphery, he caught a glimpse of Hermione, between all those heads and shoulders, biting her lower lip with her brows furrowed in a look of concern.

He wanted to tell her to stop biting that god-damned lip in his presence because it was getting annoying having to see that time and time again over the past month. As a result, Potter took the time to strike, and Draco had only a moment to move but for Potter that was enough.

He knew he was being cowardly and childish in his antics, but he didn't want to face the facts, that he was once again forced into a situation neither of his making or desire.

Of course, the circumstances were different than the year previous, but that year had left a bad taste in his mouth for forced situations. He was simply lucky the Dark Lord had been more than pleased with Severus to overlook his failure.

Still, that year he had been alone. He only had to concern himself with watching his back, which was relatively simple with the entire school deeming him an outcast. Currently, he had someone to look after: his ward and his captor, Hermione Granger.

She was his captor certainly. She could tell him to jump off the astronomy tower in his underwear screaming the tune to Jingle Bells and he would be forced to do it out of honor, not that he could imagine Hermione Granger to be that cruel.

Of course, Hermione probably didn't understand the basics of ancient wizarding honor or blood oaths and life's blood, but that still did not mean she would smile at him so innocently.

Wait, Draco Malfoy looked at Hermione much more closely than he had previously.

There is was, that flash in her eyes. Someone had told her.

That made Draco even angrier. While it was irritating to put up with a blissfully ignorant Ward that had no idea what her smiles or concerned eyes did to him, he didn't need someone's pity.

"If you're here to say you're sorry, you can just sod off," Draco rebuked.

He saw Hermione flinch a millimeter, then she stood still and remained silent.

Draco took the time to gaze at the water on the lake. If only his mind could be that still. Instead there were constant ripples and waves created by the very girl in front of her, a constant movement and restlessness.

He heard a splash. When he looked around, he saw Hermione was gone, a ripple in the water, another disturbance to what was his previously still and frozen life.

He didn't immediately jump after her. There was no reason for theatrics, he thought. She would surface soon. Had he smoked, he probably would have lit a cigarette and had a smoke while watching the water for her to surface. Instead, he began to twirl his wand.

The seconds elapsed and the ripples slowly began to disappear so that the surface was calm again, as though nothing had happened. It was then he realized what she was trying to do.

"Fuck."

He made quick work of his outer robes and shoes as he ran into the lake before diving in after her.

It was dark and the water was even colder than the air. It bit into his skin and gripped onto him, like a thousand of sharp needles poking into his flesh. He fought against it with a mental string of curse words in quite a few languages as he used all his will to cast a wordless Lumos and dove into the water. With the aid of the dim light he saw that Granger had sunk much further than he had expected. He swam closer to her proximate location before surfacing for air. After a few gasps he dove.

He used all his energy to reach her. Hermione was a lifeless doll about seven feet beneath him. He was thankful the water was still relatively shallow as he swam towards her. Even as his lungs protested and he felt the uncomfortable pressure in his ears, he continued towards her.

Once he reached the bottom, he touched the ground to anchor and support him as he took a hold of Hermione. She felt like ice, but he wasn't sure if it was simply the water or her skin. He crouched down before pushing against the bottom of the lake with all his might. He swam desperately towards the surface as his lungs used all the oxygen within his system. His head began to feel dizzy a foot from the surface, but he fought against it and finally, after what felt like an eon, he surfaced.

Gasping for air, he swam towards the shore, Hermione in one arm and wand held out in front with another. He tried to monitor her conditions. She looked deathly pale and her lips were blue. Her eyes were shut and her body was trembling.

Once they reached the shore, Draco pulled her up and laid her on the snow, taking off her wet outer robes. While a part of Draco could register that he was freezing and at possible risk of hypothermia himself, he could only focus on Hermione.

The first thing he noticed was that she was not breathing.

In a state of panic he did the first thing he could think of.

"Ennervate."

Her chest jerked up in a grotesque manner that made Draco wince. When she fell back to the ground, she was still as lifeless as ever. He did it again, then again.

He had been told in the past that if a patient did not awake or respond to the enervate, it was every unlikely that he would respond to the second or the third, as such subsequent spells could possibly cause damage to the nervous system.

It was on the fourth contortion that Hermione awoke and begun to cough, hunching over and coughing out the water which had entered her body. While she coughed and held onto her stomach in her miserable state, all Draco could feel was relief. He wanted to crush her to his chest while clearly articulating her idiocy to her face. He did the later.

"You, Hermione Granger, are a fucking bloody idiot," Draco hissed as her eyes fluttered open.

Hermione had the nerve to look up at him, blue lips, shivering to give him what he interpreted as a weak smile. In all honesty, it looked more like a painful grimace.

"So," she said, teeth chattering as she tried to draw in sufficent air, "we're even now?" the last part of which triggered a coughing fit.

Draco was immediately by her side crouched down, placing a hand on her icy arm, ensuring that she was okay. Once the attack subsided he hissed angrily, "It doesn't work like that!"

When Hermione didn't reply, he realized her condition was quickly deteriorating. He immediately decided they needed to move inside. The longer they were out by the lake, the more likely they would both end up with hypothermia and frost bitten limbs, so, despite the extreme protest of his body he crouched down with his back towards Hermione.

"Granger, get up."

He looked over his shoulder to find Hermione looking at him with barely open eyes and purple lips.

"If you don't get up and onto my back I'll make you," stated flatly, his teeth chattering slightly as though it explained everything.

He watched her struggle to sit up as she shivered. He was pretty sure she was starting to lose feeling in some of her extremities. Still, he saw the determination on her face as she gave herself a little push and crawled onto his back. Once she was firmly in place, arms tightly around his neck, he took off.

The trek back to the castle could not have been longer than ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. He tried his best to walk at a slow jog, but no matter how hard he pushed himself, he felt he was going no faster than a snail's pace. Sometime between when Hermione had jumped into the lake and now, the snow had begun to fall such that Draco felt himself getting hit with snowflake after snowflake, which, when combined with the wind, hurt like hell on his already frozen skin.

He could have just as easily called for assistance. He was sure the Professor was still awake, and it would not be difficult to wake up Blaise. Instead, he stubbornly decided to figure this out himself. He knew the reason why Granger threw herself into the lake and nearly committed suicide. It was her way to of telling him that she trusted him with her life. She trusted him to keep her alive, and he would prove to her that her faith was not misplaced.

Perhaps it was foolish on both their terms, as Professor Snape would furiously scold them for their childish behavior later, but for the both of them, in that moment it made perfect sense. As young adults, they would solve this problem together, without help.

He felt relief flood him as they reached the main doors to the castle. He knew once they were inside the greatest danger would be past. He just had to make sure Granger and he didn't die of hypothermia once they were inside.

With all his might he pushed opened the doors and entered. The warm heat of the castle bit into his skin with fire. It was a painful sort of relief. He wasn't sure if Hermione was even awake, but she continued to hold a relatively firm grip of his neck, even while he had to constantly adjust her weight to prevent her from falling off.

He ignored the gasps of some of the portraits as he made his way to their common room. He sent them glares, daring them to tell the professors. He was sure quite a few of them would. The portrait to their quarters didn't even ask for the password as it swung open and he entered.

He set Hermione down on the thick rug directly in front of the fireplace. He piled logs into it and cast the spell to start it on fire. Then, he piled blankets on top of blankets onto her. He had first raided his room grabbing any sort of linen which would provide cover and warmth from his comforter to his throws and even towels. When he decided it wasn't enough, he decided to raid Hermione's room.

He had never actually entered Hermione's room before, so it came as a surprise to him how clean it was in the aftermath of her wrath. Even as he quickly headed to the bed to grab her comforter and throws, he noted the amount of books she had and the way the papers on her desk were scattered about, as though she had been in the middle of a thought.

Then he sat and waited, shivering.

Still, after half an hour she wouldn't stop shivering and it broke Draco's heart. He had never seen Hermione look so vulnerable before. Sweat covered her forehead and brow giving her a sickly sort of sheen as color slowly returned to her pale features. Usually she was sure of everything and confident in her skills. She had the courage to oppose the Dark Lord and believe that she could accomplish it. It was that very courage and sureness of herself which had bothered Draco day after day because he often felt that kind of courage lacking in himself. That lack of courage is what led to the events last year with the death of Dumbledore and Hermione seemed to continually make him feel guilty for it.

He would not let his ward die. With what strength he had left, he got up and sat down next to Hermione's spot on the floor. With all his courage and strength he held onto her through all the blankets, the flimsy throw which was usually present in the common room thrown over him even while his body was shivering.

Slowly her shivering subsided and the last thing Draco thought as exhaustion took over him was that he was going to protect this girl, so she'd never show this weakness to him ever again.