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mickume

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Hermione gazed at him in confusion. "You said it yourself: I was defending a friend."

"I said that to shut up Malfoy. This didn’t involve you, but now it does. She’ll try to take revenge on you."

"How does it not involve me, at least indirectly? She was attacking Daphne, who is engaged to Flint, who is one of your little friends."

Tom sighed and rubbed his temples. "Hermione, I really don’t think you should have done that."

"Well, I did," she said curtly. "I’m not afraid of Adelaide Lestrange. I defeated her once in a duel when I hardly knew any magic. I have advanced in my studies faster than she has. I appreciate the fact that you are so protective of me, but as Daphne herself was saying, witches have power."

Tom lowered his voice. "The problem is that you are part Norman."

"The problem? How is that a problem? Do I not have the right to object to bad behavior on the part of Norman wizards?"

Tom looked flustered and frustrated. He could not seem to articulate what troubled him. Hermione sighed and turned away. "Tom, not everyone with Norman blood is villainous."

"Can we agree that the Malfoys and Lestranges are?" he asked quietly.

"We can agree on that." She tentatively offered her arm to him. He linked his with hers and escorted her possessively across the common room. Daphne, Marcus Flint, and Edgar Fawley joined them a few steps behind and followed them.

They had reached the door when a familiar voice called out, "What’s going on? Did I miss something?"

Tom turned around and saw Harry Potter standing in the boys’ dormitory threshold, staring at the two clusters of people—Adelaide’s friends, and the small group around Hermione and Tom. Tom rolled his eyes. "Yes, you did, Potter," he said shortly. Without another word, he opened the door and exited the room.

The Slytherin table in the Great Hall was a war zone over which an uneasy truce presided. The House had clearly split into two sides, each one staking out one end of the table. A gap separated the two groups. On one end sat Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, the Rosier son and daughter, Pansy Parkinson, and the older students in their fourth year and up who were almost all supporting that side. On the other side sat Tom, Hermione, Harry, Avery, Wilkes, Flint, Nott, Fawley, Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode, and Daphne’s sister Astoria.

Hermione felt nervous about the whole situation. It seemed very much to her that, while Tom’s side—and hers—might have a clear advantage in magical talent, the Malfoy-Lestrange side held all the political power. She still did not see why Tom would regard Norman blood as a particular problem, but she did see his point now about retaliation from Lestrange and Malfoy. What direction that might take, she could not guess.

She and Tom had explained to Harry, in low voices, what had transpired in the common room while he was getting dressed. He had sat on the bench over his breakfast and considered for a moment.

"We should consider allying with like-minded people in other Houses," he finally said, his voice also low and conspiratorial. "Longbottom, Luna Lovegood... and believe it or not, Riddle, even this new Weasley—"

Tom’s face had grown pinched at the mention of that name. "I am sure the new Weasley is just like the others," he said contemptuously.

"I really don’t think she is," he objected. "Luna introduced me to her, and she seems different—more ambitious than most of the others."

Tom scoffed. "It would be hard for her not to be. I have heard that they live in one room and sleep on straw."

"They don’t sleep on straw," he said, to Tom’s scornful gaze. "But the reason I mention her is that we—and a couple of people from Hufflepuff—are thinking about forming an alliance across all the Houses, and calling ourselves "Friends of the Founders.’ Nev—Longbottom and I have been discussing it... our goal would be for Hogwarts to regain its autonomy so that it could set its own policies about admission and other things, rather than having to do what the Wizards’ Council tells it to do."

"Good luck to you with that," Tom said.

Hermione frowned. "Tom, do you think your friends are more likely to change anything soon?"

"Actually, yes. My friends are all from noble families," he said proudly.

"But that’s exactly why we should work together," Harry urged. "Aristocratic witches and wizards, along with... the rest." He lowered his voice even further, to be absolutely certain that no one on Malfoy’s end of the Slytherin table could hear. "The uprising in Godric’s Hollow before I was born probably failed because they had no noble support."

For a moment, Tom considered what Harry was saying, but then his face changed. "I’ll think about it, Potter," he said. Hermione could tell he was not sincere.

She was interested in Harry’s new friends, however, and she asked him in Herbalism that day if she could be present whenever they met together. Even if Tom was not going to be part of that, she wanted at least to see what it was before deciding.

Harry seemed uneasy about Hermione being there alone. "You don’t want to ask him...?"

She gave him a level look. "I will ask him if I decide to meet with this group regularly. I do not require his permission for making new acquaintances."

Harry backed off at once. "Certainly. I meant no offense. I’ll just have Luna escort you there. We were going to meet tonight—on the seventh floor."

Despite her present frustrations with Tom, Hermione was not inclined to punish him by withholding affection from him. She cared about him, she was attracted to him, and then too, suddenly revoking intimacy from him would likely just alienate him. Besides, she thought, marriage—official marriage—to him was in her future.

That evening, when they were alone in their private nook, she noticed something new on the top clasp of his robes when she reached for it to remove them. "What’s this?" she asked, interested, gently touching the smooth black enameled medallion. It was inscribed with a green knot with three lobes and a circle, outlined delicately in silver.

Tom self-consciously covered it with his right hand. "It’s a Celtic Triquetra," he said.

"Oh," she remarked. "It’s very pretty. I have not seen this before on your robe."

"I just made it today," he said with a broad smile.

Hermione gently pulled his hand away to study it further. "Don’t be ashamed. This is good work." She returned his smile as she opened his robe and slipped it from his shoulders.

After they were finished, entwined together on the transfigured mattress, Hermione felt that she could not be annoyed with him over anything. Judging from the contented look on his face, she guessed that he felt that same way—not that he had any reason to be annoyed with her over her defense of Daphne Greengrass. Worried, perhaps, because Adelaide Lestrange was a vindictive person, but not annoyed.

He separated from her and began to put his robes back on. "I should go," he said. "I need to meet with my allies soon."

With that, the pleasant serenity of the previous moment was shattered. Hermione eyed him as she reached for her own robes. "You promised me that you would tell me what you discuss with your "allies’ when we were alone. We are now."

He sighed. "Hermione, I’ve said that we talk about the legend of Slytherin...."

"And the legend of Arthur?"

He scowled. "Arthur was a pawn, but yes."

"And in what context do you discuss these things?" she asked, fastening her robe. "Studies of magical history? Is it an academic group, Tom—or something else?"

His scowl deepened. "Perhaps it’s both. I fully realize that I cannot "do anything’ just yet, Hermione. It is important to have all the facts, to have a good understanding, first...."

She felt slightly relieved. "So you are taking this slowly. That makes me feel better. Just please, Tom, be careful. Make certain that you can trust these wizards."

"I looked into their thoughts and made them take a magical oath," he boasted smugly. "They are loyal. This needs to happen, Hermione. There have been several noble families, it seems, that have opposed the Wizards’ Council, but they haven’t been able to join forces. They needed a leader."

"Be careful," she repeated, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

They got to their feet and walked to the door. Before they left the room, he turned to face her. "I am careful," he said, a lopsided smirk-like smile on his face, but tenderness in his dark eyes. "After this morning, you should take your own advice, my dear."

Luna Lovegood brought Hermione to the seventh floor. Hermione felt self-conscious and hoped that it was not blatantly obvious to the others what she had just been doing an hour ago. It certainly wasn’t obvious to Luna, but then, this girl was a bit odd, Hermione thought.

"We are going to meet in the Come-and-Go Room," she said in her ethereal voice. "Harry found it, but he says that his father and godfather told him about it."

"That’s the room that appears when someone needs it?" Hermione asked.

Luna nodded firmly. "It must be very magical. The Founders must have all worked on it. They were very talented witches and wizards."

That seemed obvious to Hermione. She had no reply but a bland statement of agreement. At last they reached the high floor. They passed down the corridor until they reached the end, and then Luna mumbled something under her breath. Hermione watched in interest as an outline of a door, and then the door itself, appeared in the stone wall. Luna opened it and stepped inside with Hermione.

Harry was there, as was Neville Longbottom. A red-haired girl was also there. There were also a boy and a girl who were wearing Hufflepuff regalia. They all stood as she entered the room.

"Lady Hermione," Harry said formally. Hermione smiled to herself; he usually did not call her by her title, but obviously he wanted to make a positive impression and show proper manners in front of these others. "You know Miss Lovegood, of course, and Longbottom. I would also like to introduce Miss Ginevra Weasley, Ernest Macmillan, and Miss Susan Bones. My friends, this is Lady Hermione Granger."

Hermione took a seat in one of the chairs that the room had apparently conjured. Harry and Neville Longbottom were presiding, it would appear.

"I welcome all of you to the first meeting of the Friends of the Founders," Harry said, his voice somewhat nervous. "All the houses are represented, which is as it should be."

"Should it?" muttered the red-haired girl, Ginevra. Luna shot her a harsh look, which took Hermione by surprise. She would not have guessed that the fairylike girl had any acid in her.

"Yes, Miss Weasley, it should," Longbottom said firmly. "They did not all agree, but they would all be upset at what has happened to this school. Whatever the school’s rules are, the High Master and professors should be the people setting them."

Harry continued. "Now, I am sure that we all know about the events in Godric’s Hollow fourteen years ago. I am not calling for another," he said at once when a couple of faces grew alarmed. "But as you may know, Longbottom’s father is going to be the next mayor of Hogsmeade Village, and, well, I will let him explain." With that awkward finish, Harry yielded the floor to Longbottom.

Longbottom was even more awkward than Harry, but he got his message across. "Harry is right," he said. "My parents have kept order in Hogsmeade and my father is going to be the next mayor. Each generation of my family has refused to swear to the Malfoys... and Lady Bellatrix Lestrange especially hates my parents."

Hermione’s full attention was on him. A suspicion had suddenly entered her mind.

"Tell them why," Harry urged.

Longbottom took a deep breath. "My great-grandfather Longbottom married one of the Blacks. I’m sure all of you know how those three families—the Malfoys, the Lestranges, and the Blacks, I mean—are interrelated now. Lady Lestrange was certain that my family obtained family secrets of the Blacks through that marriage, and you know she was born a Black... and so she cursed my parents to try to learn what they were."

"Cursed them?" Hermione asked softly, almost to herself, but Longbottom heard.

"Lady Hermione, have you wondered why I am an only child?" he asked darkly.

Hermione looked up, horrified. She had not. It had not crossed her mind. She herself was, of course, and she had known that the reason in her case had been her parents’ fertility difficulties.

"So... my father is going to align Hogsmeade Village even more closely with the school," Longbottom continued. "They already have food agreements, of course, but my father is likely to swear openly to High Master Dumbledore as lord."

"To the Wizards’ Council, that is a provocation," Hermione observed. Longbottom nodded. "High Master Dumbledore, then—he is with this? He is your ally too?"

Harry and Neville suddenly looked very cagey indeed. "We considered using his name in the name of our group, but decided against it because he has not publicly taken a side himself," Harry said, "but yes."

At the end of the meeting, they asked all the attendees to sign a list. Hermione hesitated; for all her bluster about not requiring Tom’s permission, she did not really like going behind his back and pledging loyalty to anyone.

"To what exactly are we signing?" she asked.

"That you won’t tell any of Malfoy’s friends about us," Harry explained. He gave her a meaningful look. "Riddle obviously isn’t Malfoy’s friend. I would not ask you to keep this from him. It would be inappropriate."

It was blatantly obvious to her that the parchment bore a hex, but she did dip the quill in ink and affix her name to the document. The person behind her was Ginevra Weasley, who was staring at her with deep suspicion.

Hermione attempted to be polite as Ginevra signed the document. "I have not had the pleasure of meeting any of your family until now," she said.

The red-haired witch peered at Hermione. "That should not surprise you, my lady. My brothers don’t associate with Slytherins."

Hermione was affronted but tried not to let it show. "Well, they are missing out on knowing a quarter of the school, then. But obviously you do not share that objection."

Ginevra considered. "Potter isn’t so bad," she admitted. "Luna is my friend, and she likes him, so I decided to give him a chance. And you’re Muggle-born, so I suppose you’re different too."

This was not a ringing endorsement, but Hermione took it for what it was worth. "Luna likes him?" she repeated. Before her, Harry was flushing deep red.

"Right, then," Harry said awkwardly.

"I don’t suppose that your fiancé is interested in meeting with us," Ginevra said to Hermione.

She considered that for a moment but shook her head. "Not now. I could try to talk to him about it, of course."

"He has friends of his own," Ginevra said shrewdly. "I saw the division in Slytherin House."

At this point, Luna Lovegood joined them at the front of the room. Hermione noticed that she instantly moved to Harry’s side. It was not possessive, exactly—at least, not in the jealous way that she was accustomed to experiencing from Tom—but rather matter-of-fact. She also remembered Ginevra’s cynical question about the houses, obviously a swipe at Slytherin, and thereby at Harry.

"We’re so glad you could be here," Luna said sincerely, her eyes wide.

"I was happy to come," Hermione replied. Something occurred to her, something that she meant to ask Longbottom before she left. It probably needed to be done in private. At the moment, the Hufflepuffs were clustering around Longbottom on the other side of the room.

"I would like to have a word with him at the end," she said in a low voice to Harry. He nodded.

Once the room was finally cleared of everyone except Hermione, Harry, Neville, and—waiting by the door to escort her back to the dungeons—Luna, she approached Neville.

"Were your parents the ones who told Professor Dumbledore that Lady Lestrange tried to assassinate me?" she asked him baldly.

He looked nervous, but rallied himself at once. "Yes," he said quietly. "They saw her face. You understand why they wanted to be anonymous."

"Absolutely," she assured him. "I am sorry for what she must have done to them. I understand completely."

"Please don’t tell anyone else—except Lord Riddle, I suppose," he amended.

Hermione did not see Tom or any of his friends in the common room that evening after Luna brought her back. She hovered near Harry, reading silently—or attempting to. Several of the other group of Slytherins, including Adelaide Lestrange, recently released from the Healer’s ward, were giving her menacing looks. She did not like it. Her fear level increased as the evening advanced, ever so slowly. She wanted Tom and his friends to return. She and Harry were badly outnumbered without them. Even the other Slytherin girls, the Greengrasses and Millicent Bulstrode, had gone to their rooms. Hermione was tempted to do so herself if not for the fact that she wanted to tell Tom about what she had learned.

Finally—finally—the door creaked open, and Tom filed inside with his friends. Hermione noticed at once that they were all wearing Celtic Triquetras near their necklines. Tom’s was vivid green, outlined in silver, on a black background while the rest of the boys wore more muted green on dark grey, but it was definitely the same symbol. Adelaide Lestrange sneered at them as they entered the common room.

Hermione rose from her seat and greeted him. "I need to tell you something," she said. "Privately."

He glanced quickly at Lestrange before nodding and ushering her outside.

"Neville Longbottom’s parents were the ones who identified her mother that day," she said almost in a whisper. "Apparently Lady Lestrange had cursed them violently years before, believing that they possessed Black family secrets."

Tom’s eyes widened. "I have not thought much about who the informers might have been, but it doesn’t entirely surprise me. I didn’t know she had done that to them, though."

"Yes, well, I met with several of their friends from other Houses of Hogwarts. He thinks his father is going to swear fealty to High Master Dumbledore as his actual lord once he becomes mayor of the village. That will be quite a challenge to the Malfoys."

Tom considered this. "Yes, it certainly will." Hunger appeared in his eyes. "As long as Potter doesn’t ask you to do anything... disloyal... I’d like you to continue to go to these meetings and report back to me what happens, just like this."

Hermione felt as if he had thrown cold water over her head. "Disloyal?" she exclaimed. "Tom! After all this, you don’t trust me?"