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"Hermione!" he sputtered, appalled.
She made no apologies. "Have you told them about everything we’ve done, Tom?" she asked evenly. "How much do they know?"
"They don’t know about that," he said at once. "It is none of their business." He reached for her arm. "On that subject, Hermione, I think we should go to the little room. Otherwise we will go to our separate beds distressed and upset—"
She took a deep breath. She was cold and scared by what she was saying, but she persisted, because it had to be said. "Tom, that is not going to happen again until you tell these boys the truth about us, that you do care about me and want to marry me—in fact, that you regard yourself as already married to me."
He pulled away and stared at her. "What?"
"You heard what I said." She crossed her arms, hugging herself protectively. Her wide sleeves dangled down past her waist. "You can’t have this both ways, Tom. I understand if you don’t want to show intense affection to me in public, but I am not going to touch you if you insist upon sneering and smirking at me while huddled with those boys."
His eyebrows narrowed again. "Is that it, then, Hermione?" he snarled defensively. "The precarious situation of my family matters so little to you? All that you really care about is whether I fawn over you? I thought you were raised noble," he said sarcastically. "I thought you of all people would understand why personal emotions aren’t as important as political alliances."
"You do not have to treat me with such open disdain. It isn’t even normal for a nobleman to act that way toward the woman he is betrothed to. What do these boys think of that? They know what is proper. Do they also think that you’re going to break the betrothal?"
"Of course they don’t!"
She gazed at him. "So they think it’s all right because I’m a half-Norman Mudblood?"
"Hermione, I asked you before not to call yourself that—"
"No, Tom!" she exclaimed angrily. "You stop treating me as inferior before these boys! You want a political alliance with them. Very well. But they have to accept me as part of the alliance, period. And until you change your behavior toward me before them, I meant what I said: I am not going to let you touch me." She turned on her heels and stalked toward the entrance to the girls’ dormitories.
Tom remained in the common room for a minute, looking stunned. As she closed the door behind her, the shock in his face dissipated and changed to anger and resentment.
Hermione stewed in her bed. She was nervous about the ultimatum she had just given Tom. He was a very proud person, and he might decide that he could do without intimacy with her if it had to be strictly on her terms. But I cannot let him think I accept being snickered at while he persuades those boys that he is merely taking what I’m begging him to take, she thought mutinously. I will not tolerate it. If he cannot treat me as a nobleman treats his lady, then I will stand by my word on this.
She thought again of Harry and his friends. She did not want Tom to take out his jealousy on them, but she did need other friends. She thought about Dumbledore’s words that evening. The goals of Harry’s group, the Friends of the Founders, seemed closest to what Dumbledore wished to happen. She would stick by them, then. Their group was interesting to her anyway, and it needed to be stronger as a force to counter the Wizards’ Council and Armand Malfoy.
On the other side of the castle walls, Tom sulked. Hermione was being completely unreasonable, he thought. She had to understand that he had acted as he had that evening for a reason. Fawley had caught him in the act of kissing her, and that required an explanation. The Lords of Beltane would not understand or approve of a genuine emotional relationship with someone like Hermione, and his grip on them was precarious enough already. She was completely correct that they had adopted him as their leader only because of his royal bloodline. Tom shifted on his mattress. Hermione was clever, and he had not particularly liked it when she had called him out for that fact.
She asked a good question, he thought uncomfortably. What will they think of our marriage? I am not sure they really think it will take place. She was also a bit too close to being correct when she asked if they thought I would end the betrothal. Some of them might think just that. I don’t know. They can’t expect that I would marry her but have a mistress. Witches generally don’t consent to living that way... if a woman expects to have magical children, of course she would insist on them being legitimate... not that I would do that anyway. So they must really think that I plan to break the contract.
Tom did not want to be forced to choose between Hermione and his friends. He needed both. He wished that Fawley had never seen him kissing her—or that he had kept his head and instantly Obliviated the boy of what he had seen. However, he hadn’t, and it would be difficult now to excise those specific memories from all of his friends without damaging anything else that they remembered from the day. He also did not expect that he could maintain his hold over them if they believed that he was sincerely in love with—as she put it—"a half-Norman Mudblood." The only answer, then, was to do just what he had done that evening, and deceive them into thinking that he merely appreciated Hermione physically. Why couldn’t she see that?
A malicious voice in the back of Tom’s mind whispered to him that his mother had made a verbal agreement to let him out of the contract if he asked. He shoved the voice aside at once. He did want her; he was just angry and annoyed with her right now. And Mother knows that we’ve consummated the relationship, he remembered. She would not let us break it, knowing that. That thought gave him some comfort. He turned on his side and closed his eyes. Hermione had the right, currently, to deny him. Perhaps it was even for the best that she did so, since he would otherwise have to account for their moments of affection and intimacy to his friends. But someday they would marry officially, and he would have undoubtedly worked out a plan by that time. With time, his friends would grow more mature and come to accept their marriage, especially if he treated the betrothal more typically and formally in the interim.
The following morning, Hermione walked into the Slytherin common room gingerly, almost afraid to meet Tom. He was standing there, talking with Professor Slughorn, when she entered the room.
"Lady Hermione!" the professor exclaimed as she approached. He was beaming. "Welcome and good morning to you! I was just telling your fiancé the good news."
"Oh?" she inquired. Tom was looking pleased indeed, though not exactly to see her. He was not unhappy that she was there, but Slughorn’s news was what had made him so happy.
"Indeed. It is as I predicted: He has been moved to the mastery classes in Arithmancy, Ancient Languages, and Divination."
"Oh," Hermione said, her face falling. She had shared Arithmancy and Ancient Languages with Tom in the previous term, when she had been moved to the intermediate class. Now she would be alone in those subjects, without Harry or any of their other friends there to support her.
Tom was happy, though. He gave Hermione a proud look. "It’s quite all right, my dear," he said loftily. "I’m sure you will join me next year."
Hermione wanted to slap him. How dare he act so arrogant to her? Had their conversation achieved nothing?
"I fully intend to," she said, her voice low and almost threatening. Tom drew back almost imperceptibly, surprised at her reaction.
Slughorn did not detect any of their subtle exchange. "Good, good," he said jovially. "And very fitting! I am sure that someday the two of you will have the most brilliant magical children this country has seen."
Tom smirked. Hermione again wanted to smack him. When Slughorn was gone, she turned to him with irritation in her brown eyes.
"I had hoped that you would think about what we discussed and see things from my perspective," she said.
He gazed down at her from his greater height. "Your perspective is too idealistic. I still don’t understand why you care what my allies think about you, since you know that it’s false."
"I care because I have to watch them—and you!—treat me poorly. It hardly matters if it’s an act on your part. You should not do it for any reason, and you should not tolerate it from them. I meant what I said, Tom," she warned. "If you cannot seem to control them, to make them accept our relationship, then I am not going to continue as we have been."
He breathed deeply. "I did think about it overnight, and I think that’s for the best."
She drew away, stunned. "What?"
"I think that we have been too physically close, and it has made it harder to maintain a normal appearance when we’re in each other’s presence... and it may have clouded our judgment in other respects too. We should take a step back anyway."
Hermione stared at him, her heart sinking into her gut. "You really don’t want to...."
"I’m accepting your conditions, Hermione," he said. "I need these alliances. My mother needs these alliances. She certainly isn’t going to get the Carrows back, nor that Pettigrew fellow, if he is even alive. We need strong allies, and since they don’t approve of you, it’s better that I don’t have to act as I did yesterday. We can go back to how we were at the beginning of your first year: friends. It won’t change the future," he added hurriedly as her face crumpled. "It won’t change anything."
"It changes everything," she said, her voice icy and her words broken. "You are choosing these friends over me, however you try to explain it. I have—you know what I’ve done! You know what we promised at that time, too."
"And I will keep that promise! I wouldn’t touch anyone else, Hermione, if that’s what you are worried about. I took that promise we made seriously, and I think wizards should be held to that vow just as much as witches. I just need these friends."
"Why, Tom?" she exclaimed. Her face was heated and flushed. "What do you need them for? Why can’t you just accept what you are already going to have? Your mother’s castle is a fortress. You’re going to be lord of that someday. Why isn’t that enough for you?"
"Malfoy and the Council—"
"All right, but why can’t you pursue an alliance with Harry’s group instead?"
"They want something other than what I want," he said harshly.
"What they want is for Hogwarts to be independent of meddling from the Wizards’ Council."
"How can that be all? What does it matter to anyone but Dumbledore how much power the school has? Longbottom’s family used to be nobles. Potter’s parents are apparently descended from vassals of Gryffindor. They want more than they have said, but since they apparently won’t say what they do want, I don’t trust them and I don’t want them as allies."
"Dumbledore repeated the order from Malfoy that banned Celtic symbols," he said harshly. "He did that, and before that, he must have seen me wearing them. He knows what I stand for, and he is not with me. What I want is different to what he wants, Hermione. My friends, on the other hand, do want the same thing."
"And they have a problem with my blood."
He stared at her for a moment. "Yes," he spat, reluctant to admit it so baldly.
"That problem is not going to disappear, you know," she said acidly. "They will have to come to terms with it sooner or later." She wrenched her arm free of his. "Is it only their problem, Tom? Do you imagine I have missed your constant stream of invective about "usurpers,’ "invaders,’ and "robber lords’? Why am I the exception? Or am I? You were quick to blame my mother’s mother for marrying a Norman knight."
"Your mother’s mother probably had no choice in the matter," he said. "Her father probably set it up."
"Like your mother set us up?"
"What is your point, Hermione?"
"My point is that you are being dishonest, and not just with your friends. If you have such contempt for people with that blood, how can you make an exception for me?"
He stared angrily at her. "Do you want me not to make an exception for you? Maybe I shouldn’t," he said cruelly. "Since you clearly care so little about the well-being of this country, since you put your emotions ahead of political necessity, since you favor a peace that comes at the expense of my people, maybe I shouldn’t make an exception for you."
She stepped back from him. "Go to the Great Hall, Tom," she said. "I do not require you to escort me there."
He glared at her before turning away in a whirl of robes.
Tom did not so much as incline his head to look at Hermione when she entered the Great Hall. She did not particularly expect him to—she had not seen any indication in her previous year and a half of knowing him that he would instantly back down from a hard position he had taken—but it still offended her. She was in the right on this, and she knew it. Alliances of friendship were important, of course, but alliances of family should always take precedence unless there was a very good reason against it. Betrayal by a family member was essentially the only reason Hermione could think of for that, and nothing she had done was even in the proximity of a betrayal. Perhaps a Muggle noble could order his wife—or betrothed—to accept his friends irrespective of how she was treated, and would consider defiance of that command a betrayal, but Hermione had realized that the wizarding nobility regarded witches very differently to how Muggle lords regarded women. The wizarding nobility’s value for family was sincere and consistent, since female members of the family were placed higher than a lord’s friends.
On the other hand, Hermione had also concluded that the consistency in their value for family was directly linked with this focus on "purity of blood"—magical blood, in the case of most of them, or in Tom’s case and perhaps that of his friends, ethnic "purity." That was the dark side... but Tom would have to come to terms with it. And if he kept these friends, so would they.
Haughtily she sat down at the Slytherin table next to him, but she did not allow any part of her body to touch him, and she paid no attention to him. He ignored her as well. Hermione ordered her breakfast verbally and began to eat once it appeared at her place.
In a few minutes, Harry emerged. He glanced from Hermione to Tom and vice versa, silently assessing the situation. Then he took his seat next to her and gave her a kind smile. To Hermione’s surprise, Tom did not glare at Harry. He ignored both of them through the entire meal.
In a way, Hermione was relieved that she did not have to interact with Tom in most of her subjects now—at least for today. She did realize in the back of her mind that she would miss him in those classes once they had made up, but she expected to advance to the mastery classes next year just as he had. In the meantime, she would not be distracted from her work by the chill that currently lay between them.
In Potions and Alchemy, one of the classes that she did still share with Tom, she was rather taken aback when he paired up with Marcus Flint. After she and Harry had advanced to the intermediate level in this subject, Tom had insisted on being partnered with her, leaving Harry to Flint.
Harry observed the proceedings as silently as he had done at breakfast. Without a word, he took his place next to Hermione at the potions table. Hermione was relieved; despite her angry proclamations in the argument with Tom, she did not want to discuss the situation with Harry or anyone else. To do so would mean explaining just what she had said in her ultimatum, which she absolutely did not want to do—or it would mean lying about that. It was apparent that she and Tom were having difficulties, in any case, and Harry did not ask for the details.
While they worked on their potion, Harry asked her, in a low voice, "Would you like to come to another meeting tomorrow evening?"
Hermione did not need clarification. She nodded swiftly. "I am very interested in the group and would like to continue attending these meetings."
He smiled. "It’s at the same place as before, then, and same time of day."
"I will be there."
The pattern continued for the rest of that day and through the following one: Tom hardly spoke to Hermione, and what little he did say were perfunctory comments about the type of magic they were studying that day. Hermione decided to let him stew in his own cauldron. He had been the one to say that they should return to being friends. If he really meant that, then he knew what the terms would be for her.
At last the time of the Friends of the Founders meeting arrived. Haughtily Hermione exited the Slytherin common room. Tom was deep in conversation in a dark corner with his friends, but when she stood up to leave, his head shot up and his gaze instantly fixed on her. She ignored his glare as she opened the door to meet Ginevra Weasley just outside. Harry had already gone to the meeting. For the sake of preventing damage to Hermione’s reputation, they had decided that they had better go to these meetings separately, and that Hermione should be seen meeting a witch. No one else in the House except for Tom knew of the group’s existence, so the rest of the Slytherins should think that she was spending time with female friends.
Hermione just hoped that Tom would not complain to his friends about what she was really doing. She did not trust those boys not to spread the most defamatory interpretation possible, even if so doing would tarnish Tom by association.
Along the way Ginevra had hardly a word to say. She seemed to be studying Hermione in order to decide what to think of her. Hermione decided she should do the same. At the previous meeting, Ginevra had been a bit of a mystery to Hermione, wary and distrustful of Slytherins in general but apparently more open-minded than her brothers. Come to think of it, Hermione thought, why aren’t her brothers going to these meetings? Finally Hermione addressed Ginevra with just that question.
The young witch frowned in contemplation. "Well, three of my brothers are not at Hogwarts anymore," she said. "My brothers Fred, George, and Ronald, who are here, don’t seem very interested." There was a certain degree of disdain in her words as she spoke of them. "Fred and George are twins, and they are more interested in opening a shop. I do not know what Ron—Ronald—wants to do," she said scornfully. "He follows them, mostly. But they all have little interest in political matters."
She gave Hermione a sideways look. "I suppose this must be outside the experience of a young lady such as yourself," she began, a barely perceptible sardonic note in her voice, "but my family have had a... peculiar view of family honor, in my opinion."
"How so?" Hermione asked, ignoring the faint jibe.
"Well, we lost our title when the Muggle Conqueror named Armand Malfoy his viceroy for wizards and witches. My great-grandparents would not swear to him. Since then, Weasleys have been farmers and have taken pride in this condition. My father has this view. He thinks that ambitious people, or rather, people who aren’t satisfied with what they have, are not fully trustworthy. However, I would like to help change the situation and help my family."
Hermione considered that, thinking of her fight with Tom in which she had accused him of precisely that. However, it seemed to her that there was quite a difference between wanting to regain a noble title that one’s family had held merely a couple of generations ago, and wanting to become king when one’s ancestors had not held a throne in six centuries—and when one already was heir to a wealthy fief. Wanting to change the political situation to take some of the power of the Wizards’ Council away, however, was a different matter, and Hermione could not fault Tom for that desire. She wondered what the Weasley family in general thought about that goal.
"What about your other brothers?" she asked Ginevra. "Do they want to improve their lot or change the political situation?"
"I think a couple of them do. My eldest brother, William, is adventuring in France. I don’t think it has anything to do with the Muggles of Normandy," she said at once. "He said he’s trying to track down some goblins who worked with Gryffindor during his lifetime and"—she lowered her voice—"bring them back here, for our side. Charlie is saving money to go to Wales, where there is a lord who breeds dragons, Lord Rhygar. He intends to enter this wizard’s service. And Percival was named a master last year and he is currently helping my father on our farm. I think he wants to become a knight, but he is having trouble getting a noble benefactor. He’s even considering Muggle lords now, but he would probably have to take a side in the Muggle conflict if he did. I hope he doesn’t do that, but I do respect him for his ambitions."
Hermione recalled that Ginevra’s Sorting had taken a long time, and with this information, she believed she could guess what other House the Hat had considered for her. That was interesting indeed, considering how much suspicion Ginevra seemed to have for Slytherins.
They reached the seventh floor and the corridor where the Come-and-Go Room lay. The girls entered the room and sat next to Luna Lovegood. Harry and Neville presided, and when everyone had arrived, they called the meeting to order.
"My friend Neville has an important announcement to make," Harry declared, as Neville stood by looking uncomfortable and awkward. "But before he does, I have to remind everyone that we have taken an oath of silence regarding the existence of this group—at least, telling anyone who is a Malfoy ally. I must ask all of you to speak to no one of what Neville is going to say." He hesitated for a moment. "When this thing happens, it will not be secret—as you will see—but we can’t risk letting anyone know in advance that it is going to happen. The Wizards’ Council have been bold lately about issuing extreme orders and they would try to prevent it... or punish good people for even talking about it."
There were murmurs of agreement and assent.
"Very well. Neville," Harry said, gesturing to his friend to speak.
Next to Hermione, Ginevra perked up almost imperceptibly as Neville took Harry’s place. The look on her face was a bit hard for Hermione to read—it was not the obvious look of a fancy, but there was definitely respect there. That was interesting. Luna Lovegood was just as interested in Harry as before, her wide blue eyes never leaving his face, but the ferocity that Hermione had seen in her face in the previous meeting was gone, replaced with the self-assured complacency that she possessed. Perhaps the two witches had come to an understanding, then.
Neville Longbottom cleared his throat and began to explain. "My father, the mayor of Hogsmeade, is going to summon the farmholders and heads of guilds to his house for a vote this spring about whether to acclaim Master Dumbledore as lord and join Hogsmeade with Hogwarts." He looked down at his shoes. "They expect to win the vote, but as Harry said, if this got out early, Lord Malfoy would try to stop it from happening and would probably seize the village."
The young people present in the room digested this.
"I don’t understand how that works," said Ernest Macmillan, the Hufflepuff boy. "If Master Dumbledore isn’t a lord, how can it be legal to swear to him as one?"
Neville looked troubled by the question. He did not seem to have an answer, and neither did Harry. But Hermione did know the answer to that, and she spoke up eagerly. "The precedent comes from the days of the Founders," she explained in the same tone of voice that she used for the professors. "They were all lords and ladies. If you read the Codex of Wizarding Law, it actually declares that the High Master of Hogwarts is lord of the castle—or lady, if it’s a witch. The Malfoys ran Godric Gryffindor out of his personal estate, but he was Lord of Hogwarts in addition to Lord of Godric’s Hollow, and they never abolished that title. Since Armand Malfoy arrived, they haven’t used a noble title, but the law does say that. I read about it in histories of Hogwarts."
Harry and Neville looked relieved. "Thank you, Lady Hermione," Harry said politely, making sure to use her title before the group.
Hermione herself was still troubled by a couple of things, and she decided to speak up now. "There is one thing that worries me, though," she said haltingly. "The Wizards’ Council issued an order recently that anything they say—which is to say, anything Armand Malfoy says—carries the same weight as the Codex of Law. What is to prevent them from stripping Dumbledore of authority to accept anyone’s oath of fealty and seizing the village anyway?"
"Nothing," Harry said glumly. "They can do that if they choose to. But Neville’s parents hope that they won’t do it. Everything they intend to do is legal and normal. Hogsmeade is not currently part of any lord’s fief, so they have a right to swear to one... and since you just told us all that the High Master of Hogwarts was never stripped of a title, it wouldn’t be against the law for Dumbledore to accept someone’s oath. If they retaliated, it would look really vindictive."
After the meeting adjourned, Hermione turned to Ginevra. "Perhaps your brother Percival should enter Dumbledore’s service after this happens."
Ginevra did not look convinced. "I will mention it to him after the Longbottoms have held their vote. He may be interested, perhaps."
Tom still did not deign to acknowledge Hermione that evening. Evidently he had figured out where she had gone. Let him simmer, she fumed as she went to bed. The Friends of the Founders are at least planning to make alliances—or their family members are, anyway. What can he boast of with his little group? He thinks the Friends have another agenda, but what can it be other than to restore their own lost status? Ginevra all but told me that that’s what she wants for her own family. There is nothing suspicious about that. She remembered Ginevra’s possible interest in Neville Longbottom. Yes, she definitely stood to benefit if the Longbottoms’ actions ended up raising their status and she pursued the young man.
Am I thinking of this strictly as a noble-raised person would? Hermione wondered. Ginevra was almost placed in Slytherin—I absolutely believe that—and if the Hat was inclined to put her there of its own accord, she actually is more Slytherin-like than I am. But does she have an agenda other than social climbing? For Neville’s sake, I hope she does. Hermione was sure that the awkward, shy young man would welcome the attentions of a determined witch, so she hoped that Ginevra actually did like him. But this is none of my business, she reminded herself. She was glad that Harry had not asked her about the troubles in her betrothal to Tom, and she was not going to insert herself into her friends’ personal affairs either.
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.
Armand and Abraxas Malfoy sat in their vast parlor as Arcturus Black was admitted to the room. The fourth member of the Wizards’ Council, Rodolphus Lestrange, was not present, by design—Abraxas’s design. He was certain that if they had invited Lestrange, his wife Bellatrix would insist upon attending as well. Lestrange imagined himself a strong husband in the classical and Germanic mold, a patriarch who had little use for the female-accepting traditions of the ancient Celtic culture of this country, but in truth Lady Bellatrix could get her way quite readily on most matters. Even worse according to Abraxas’s reckoning, she was a terrible influence on him. She would persuade him to her strident, violent ideas especially well, Abraxas thought, since it was their family that would be the topic of this meeting with Black—and that was unacceptable in this case. It was already going to be a challenge for him and Black to persuade Father to a moderate response to Lady Riddle’s provocation, one that would not provoke an uprising. The two Lestranges together would reinforce and exacerbate Father’s worst tendencies and outnumber the more reasonable voices. Abraxas had therefore neglected to tell Lestrange of this meeting. Inevitably they would have to do so, but better to present the outcome as a fait accompli—and a gift of sorts.
Arcturus Black was seated. He regarded the two Malfoys with suspicion and reserve.
Armand spoke first. "Welcome, kinsman. As you know, the blood-traitor Riddle lady has named our ally and kin Lord Lestrange an enemy, because he accepted the oath of the Carrows."
Black nodded stiffly.

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