Opportunities and Inceptions

A huge thank you to my alpha reader, Arabellabloodgood, for reading this over for me and to EverMystique and Dandru for combing through this and helping me clean up my mistakes. I really appreciate the beta help. Thank you very much.

Also, a big thank you to Jay for my lovely banner! I really love it.

Please note: in regards to Hermione's mark – when the person speaking believes or perceives that Hermione's mark is like the Dark Mark, 'Mark' is capitalized; however, if the person speaking believes it to be just a brand, a magical tattoo, I have written 'mark' in lowercase. In the narrative, Hermione's mark is in lowercase. That way you know how it's perceived, although later it will be more clearly clarified as to the true nature of the mark.

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~o 32 o~

Opportunities and Inceptions

Draco entered the drawing room when Hermione said that she felt obligated to apologize to him, although he had no idea what for. Sure they'd disagreed a few times at school, but then he expected her to strong opposing opinions, but so much of what she'd said seemed to be true. Not that he liked that fact; it unnerved him.

He stared in shock as Hermione calmly answered, "Yes, my Lord." He could tell she was nervous, terrified even, but she complied when the Dark Lord ordered Hermione to kneel, kneeling smoothly like a well-practiced sycophant.

He could hardly believe what was happening as the sleeve of her robe slid down her arm and exposed her flesh. No! He wouldn't, Draco thought, staring as the Dark Lord pressed his wand into her skin. It has to be a mistake – some other intention of punishing her or chastising her... When she screamed, Draco literally felt the blood leave his face, heck it left his head, and a huge stone dropped in his stomach. He felt like retching and screaming at the same time. The Dark Lord is a hypocrite! A Mark he designed especially for HER? She's a Mudblood!

Hermione's screams grew louder as the Mark burned into her flesh. He felt cold; only the firm grip of his mother's hand, her nails digging into his arm near his own Dark Mark held him in place. He could feel Hermione's pain and had never felt angrier, more repulsed by anything he'd ever witnessed.

"There," the Dark Lord said as he released her, but Draco was staring at Hermione sobbing on the floor.

"She is mine. I have marked her as mine – mine to do with as I desire. No one is to question her place among you or my intentions for this girl ever again."

"Narcissa, take Hermione and get her cleaned up and fix her face. I would hate to have her look like this at my party."

His mother released her grip. "Of course, my Lord," she said as she hurried over to Hermione.

Draco eased back to the wall, watching as his mother and Hermione vanished. When he heard the dark Lord dismiss Snape, he hurried from the room to the nearest loo. He retched, not that he had much in his stomach.

He needed to find Hermione, to see if she was all right, to look at her Mark and to see if it was real. Draco left the loo and ran to his mother's room. His mother had apparently calmed the girl down, and a house-elf was holding a wet cloth to Hermione's arm. "Is it?"

His mother looked up. "It's different. A brand, yes, but not at all like ours," she replied, as Hermione dabbed at her face. She turned her attention to Hermione. "No. Wipe, Hermione, take it all off."

Draco walked over and said, "Let me see it, elf."

Hermione looked up, her makeup smeared, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Let me see it," he repeated softly, almost a plea.

She held up her arm, and he examined the 'mark.' It was different; instead of the skull, she had a lion's head with a snake protruding from its mouth. The snake twisted and knotted, then stretched down her arm, like his. He ran his thumb over it, then his fingers. It was slightly raised like his, but the snake didn't undulate, and the lion, a dark, golden brown not black, was soft to the touch, flesh-like, not hard like bone. "Does this hurt?" he asked, pressing his finger into the mark.

She hissed. "Its-it's still sore," she replied.

"No, a sharp pain. Does it feel like something searing into you, like it's hot?" he asked, and she shook her head. He pressed his index finger into it again, and she inhaled in pain. "Not a connection, like you can feel a presence in you through it?" he asked, and she tilted her head, her teary eyes showing only confusion.

He glanced at the door and waited. No one came. He jabbed his wand into it, making her cry out, then released the pressure, and waited.

Still no one came. "What about that time? Did it feel like a sharp pain?" he asked, but she simply shook her head, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. "A burning sensation? An awareness? A connection to him – any response at all?"

She shook her head with each question. "No, nothing like that, only a dull pain from the pressure."

He let go of her arm and knelt down. "I think it's a brand, a symbol. If it was like ours, someone would've come – he'd have felt that – you'd have felt him through the mark."

She nodded, a tear escaping down her cheek, and he wiped it away. "Pull yourself together," he said and smirked at her widened eyes and dumbfounded expression.

"Draco!" his mother admonished him.

"Not..." he started to say and looked Hermione in the eyes. "I meant, pull yourself together so you can face them. Hold your head up high and pretend that nothing is amiss. Show me that same brave face you use when facing the Carrows' mistreatment, and you might even garner a bit of respect tonight."

She nodded as if understanding and sniffed.

He smirked at her again. "Good. I'll be downstairs with Snape." He nodded to his mother and left the room to let Severus know that the mark was only a brand of some sort.

~S~

Severus saw Cillian enter the foyer and hand his cloak off to a waiting butler. Cillian smiled in a friendly manner to the ladies who greeted him and shook hands or nodded to the men as he approached. He looked up, spotted Severus, and walked determinedly toward him. "Good evening, you're alone? What happened to Hermione?"

"Narcissa took her upstairs to have her face cleaned up," Severus said softly, never shifting his position.

"And you trust her not to hex her? Brave man," Cillian said and stood companionably next to Severus so they could talk. "Why did she need to have her face cleaned up?"

"The Dark Lord marked her," Severus said, managing to control his tone so that the loathing sneer wasn't reflected in his voice.

Cillian turned and gasped, "He what?"

Maintaining his pose he said, "You heard me," without so much as flinching.

"And you're livid," Cillian stated, resuming his stance of easy companionability. "I can't believe he gave her the Dark Mark, what a hy...political thing to do."

"I agree." Severus tilted his head to the side, nearly imperceptibly, toward Draco as he exited the stairs.

Draco jutted his chin at Severus and Cillian and walked up to the two men. "It's only a mark – a brand, it's not like ours. It's a snake, like ours, protruding from the mouth of a lion's head, and, although it's raised, the snake doesn't undulate or move. It's stationary, the lion's head is soft like flesh and is a dark brown not black."

"That doesn't mean anything. He said it's a Mark he designed especially for her," Severus said, hoping that Draco was right.

"I think the mark is a brand only," Draco said as he shook his head. "It's not a Dark Mark and doesn't connect her to him like the Dark Mark does. I tried pressing both my finger and my wand into it, and no one came up."

Severus was somewhat relieved, but he wouldn't know for sure until he saw the Mark. It was possible that the Dark Lord ignored the summoning, believing that Narcissa or Draco would test it. The Dark Lord hated being tested. "He knows that she's not conforming as he wants and suspects that she will run to Potter at some point."

"As if she could," Draco sneered.

"I don't think so. He's been pleased with her so far, hasn't he?" Cillian asked, ignoring Draco's outburst, as he watched a group of students pass them on their way to the drawing rooms. He didn't sound convinced.

"But if she does, not that I think she can, she's watched every second of the day, the brand will show Potter and her friends that she's changed sides, that she took his Mark, and that should unnerve Potter," Draco said, watching the Greengrass girls across the room. "It will cause her friends at school to distrust her."

"I'm not so sure," Cillian stated and leaned closer to Severus. "IF that's the case, what his intent in marking her is, then he doesn't know her friends all that well, does he?"

Severus suppressed his smirk. Cillian is right; the Dark Lord doesn't understand the loyalty of her friends. They will question her, sure, but Hermione is horrible at deception, and they know it. He saw the Glenwrythes enter the foyer and nodded to Miss Glenwrythe. Some of them might need convincing, but not all of them. Miss Glenwrythe nodded politely in acknowledgement.

Belinda swooped down on Cillian and began gushing about his approved betrothal. From the look on his friend's face, Cillian fully dreaded the next few hours. Draco thankfully took that as he cue to leave.

"Bell, I'm not engaged to anyone," Cillian spat angrily in a low controlled voice. "I haven't consented to the match."

"It's approved," Belinda said, aghast at his reply, and Severus had to fight to control his smirk. "She's lovely girl."

"You marry her then," Cillian snapped at her. "I've discussed this with Marc and Justin, and they don't approve either."

Belinda placed her fists on her hips. "What do you mean they don't approve? It's arranged!"

Cillian turned toward his sister. "She's spoken for, Bell. Flint wants her," he said, no longer controlling his voice.

"That's not – no... I was assured," she stammered, although she looked away for a moment.

"Sorry, sis, if Flint wants the girl for his oldest son, it's a better match than the youngest in our line," Cillian stated and walked away.

Belinda turned to Severus, and he dreaded what was to come out of her mouth now. "So, how about you and me, on the dance floor, for old times' sake?"

"I'm waiting for my wife, Belinda. Perhaps you should ask Horrance to dance," he said smoothly, watching the anger flash in her eyes. "Or if his gout is acting up, I'm sure one of his sons will be happy to oblige."

"OOOUGH, someday – you'll see – you'll want me, Severus Snape, and I won't be available!" she snarled at him, hands on her hips again.

"Promise?" he purred silkily.

She stormed away.

~H~

Once Draco left, Hermione felt better.

Now that they were alone, Hermione knew this might be the only opportunity she'd have to ask Mrs. Malfoy something that had been on her mind, ever since Severus hinted that Draco might be wavering. And if he was, she reasoned, his parents might be also. "Why do you put up with him? Why have you and your family joined him if this is how he treats you?"

Narcissa handed her a fresh flannel. "I don't know," she replied and then stiffened when Hermione said, "I've only been in the house a few times, and I know – I can see what is going on. It's despicable how he treats you and your family."

"It was not like this before," Narcissa snapped, gripping Hermione's face so she could apply some more powder.

"It wasn't?" Hermione asked and sneezed, making Narcissa scowl at her. "Wasn't it better after he fell? You and your family were the top of wizarding society, pillars of propriety, respected, known for your philanthropy and generosity, and now your husband has spent a year in Azkaban, and your home is under the Dark Lord's control – for what? To be treated like servants?"

Narcissa's eyes narrowed. "That's none of your business," she snapped, trying again to reapply Hermione's makeup. "Stop blubbering or I'll never get your face done."

Hermione tipped her head up and closed her eyes so Narcissa could add eyeliner. "I've heard rumors at school. MacCavish, Travers, and Rowle – the Carrows, they all say you're in disfavor," she said, opening her eyes to look at the witch. "Did you know that the Dark Lord marked Harry, too? His scar; he marked him as an equal according to Dumbledore. Well, that's what Dumbledore said happened that night when he tried to kill Harry – he marked him as an equal, made him the Chosen One. The one with the powers so to speak." Narcissa's eyes widened in shock, and Hermione pressed on, thankful that she was at least listening. "That's why luck always seems to be on Harry's side; the Fates have created a balance between them."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed again. "Close your eyes," she snapped.

"You know that Harry is a Parselmouth, right? Didn't Draco tell you? Except it doesn't run n Harry's family, his father wasn't a Parselmouth, and it's not a gift Muggle-borns get," Hermione said, her eyes closed, feeling a brush dab and sweep her lids as if Narcissa was painting her. She couldn't see Narcissa's face, but she hoped that her words were sinking in. "It will all come down to Harry and him, you know."

She opened her eyes and looked at Narcissa. "In the end, it will be just the two of them – and Harry, so far, has always escaped; he's always come out unscathed. Can't say that the Dark Lord has managed that."

"Unscathed? From what I've been told, Potter's arm was mutilated in the graveyard, and the Dark Lord can touch him without consequences," Narcissa stated, and although there was annoyance in her tone, there was uncertainty as well. "Potter was sent to the hospital after the fiasco in the Ministry, and last summer when he turned seventeen, well, there were seven of them, so I'm not sure what Potter got, but one of them lost an ear, and another was knocked off his broom."

"That was George – he lost his ear. Mundungus Fletcher Apparated away when Mad-Eye was hit by a curse – he wasn't knocked off his broom. Harry made it past the Dark Lord unharmed," Hermione stated. She'd reached her, struck a nerve, and she knew it. The older witch's face was awash with emotions: she saw flickers of shock, anger, and confusion, even fear. She turned to look the woman in the eyes. "What I don't understand is why someone like you, like your husband, who are so skilled at politics and finances have put all your Galleons in one pot. It's like putting all your eggs in one basket – what if Harry wins? Then what?"

"Hold your mouth still," Narcissa demanded as she tried to apply lipstick to Hermione's lips. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Hermione waited until Narcissa withdrew the lipstick. "Believe me I do know what I'm talking about. All I'm saying is that opportunities arise, like this one, you being nice to me, they come along," she said. "And if they happen again, why not take them, find a neutral path. It's harder, being neutral, playing both sides. But then again, whom do you really want to win this? Which life is better – which one would you choose if you had the choice?"

"Blot," Narcissa snapped as she handed Hermione a tissue. She was quiet after that, although she seemed to be deep in thought.

Hermione was going to try again, hoping that she'd see there was an option when there was a knock at the door. Narcissa walked over and yanked it open. "Yes?"

Hermione examined her face in the mirror. Narcissa had done a terrific job. Even though she still had the smoky, cat-eye effect, it was more artfully done than she'd managed at the castle. Narcissa had even added a bit of dark green to enhance the gold in her eyes and lengthened her lashes quite a bit.

Bellatrix stepped into the room. "Oh good, you're done." She turned to her sister. "The Dark Lord wanted to know what was taking so long."

"I had to get her to stop crying long enough to fix her makeup," Narcissa sneered. "She wouldn't stop blubbering."

"He marked her, gave her an honor that no Mudblood should be given! She should be grateful," Bellatrix sneered and then shrugged offhandedly. "I'll let our master know she'll be right down."

Bellatrix Apparated and Narcissa turned to Hermione. "Well, you heard her, let's go."

Unfortunately, they encountered Belinda in the hall on their way. "Did the Dark Lord send you?" Narcissa asked, and Hermione wondered briefly if Draco might have been wrong.

Belinda waved her hand dismissively. "No, nothing like that. I wanted to see how Severus' Mudblood was holding up."

Hermione lifted her chin slightly, rolling her shoulders back and resumed her perfect posture. "I'm fine now."

She turned to Narcissa, her haughtiness fading instantly. "Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy, your artistry is truly amazing, and I'm sincerely grateful that you were willing to help me. I could never have gotten my makeup as perfect as you've done." She meant every word. Narcissa had actually been kind to her, soothing her, and giving her cooling Dittany compresses for her arm.

"The Dark Lord wanted you cleaned up and presentable," Narcissa replied coolly.

"So, now what shall we do with the Mudblood?" Belinda asked, grasping Hermione's arm. Hermione recoiled and tried to loosen the woman's hold.

"Suffice to say, I think she's expected at the party," Narcissa stated coolly. "He did make quite a spectacle of her a few minutes ago."

"He marked her! As one of us!" Belinda sneered, aiming her wand at Hermione's throat.

Hermione could only gasp in fear; her voice was gone.

"This insolent twit is now one of us!"

"Take a good look!" Narcissa smirked, grabbed hold of Hermione's left wrist and exposed her mark, and Hermione silently yelped in pain. "Yes, he marked her as his, but it's not like ours – it's different," Narcissa sneered haughtily. "If he had given her the Dark Mark, he'd be showing himself a hypocrite. He's not that stupid."

A tall, lovely, dark-haired woman approached. "Oh good, she's presentable," she said, stopping next to Belinda. "The Dark Lord is asking what is taking so long."

"She's being difficult, Belladonna," Belinda replied with a sneer as Narcissa let go of Hermione's wrist. "And filth like her will never be presentable."

Hermione rubbed her wrist, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall.

"Nevertheless, the Dark Lord wants to see her dance with her husband," Belladonna said and grasped Hermione's right wrist. "So, come along and stop being difficult, Mudblood."

Hermione nodded and allowed the woman to lead her away. Severus, Lucius, Draco, and Rosier were waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. Severus appeared much calmer than when she'd last seen him.

"What took so long, sis?" Mr. Rosier asked.

Belladonna propelled Hermione toward Severus. "Apparently she was giving Narcissa a hard time."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but nothing came out.

Narcissa sauntered over to Lucius and took his arm. "Not me; Belinda."

Severus shot Hermione a questioning scowl, but she shook her head. Suddenly her voice came back. "I wasn't! I – she wanted to see the Mark."

Severus nodded and grasped her elbow gently, but firmly. "Come. We're expected to dance." He led her through the drawing rooms to the grand ballroom.

Hermione saw Elisabeth McFaul, Millicent Bulstrode, and Pansy Parkinson together in a drawing room, sipping on champagne and gossiping. The girls all gaped at her and then turned away, as if avoiding her, which was fine by Hermione. As she and Severus walked into the grand ballroom, Hermione tried not to stare at any one person, however, everywhere she looked she saw familiar faces. They walked near seventh-year Ravenclaw, Kenneth Huh, who was standing next to Antonia Gerund and her parents. Huh bowed sharply to Mr. Gerund as they passed, and then he escorted Antonia to the dance floor.

Severus led Hermione to the center of the floor. Like before, she followed Severus' lead, keeping her eyes on his face, but he was looking ahead, his eyes smoldering behind his cool exterior. Maybe because she knew him so well, she could see that he wasn't angry at her, just angry about what had happened.

"Are you all right?" he asked, finally.

"I'm fine," she replied. She saw Felicia Lockhaven dancing with a wizard who looked like he might be her father. Felicia looked at her with an expression of regret, then turned to smile at her father, and Hermione felt like she'd been snubbed. She turned her attention to Severus. "It hurts, but not as bad as before," she said softly.

"I'll give you a salve when we return to the castle," he said smoothly.

Hermione nodded, trying to keep her forearm from pressing on his arm as they danced. They danced to several numbers before he led her to the refreshments tables. Hermione saw Breanna Enfield on the arm of a wizard with dark hair, as he conversed with several wizards. She had the look of someone who was trying very hard not to look bored. Hermione tried to catch Breanna's gaze, hoping to say hello, but although she glanced in Hermione's direction, she quickly looked away.

"Do you see the wizard in black dancing with his daughter – the one in silver?" Severus asked, drawing her attention.

Turning, she followed where Severus indicated and spotted the couple, recognizing Eugene Roquewood dancing with a blonde witch maybe five or six years older than she was in age. "That's Larissa Roquewood," he said smoothly. "The one Belinda wants Cillian to marry."

She watched them for a bit, and couldn't really envision Cillian and the girl as a couple. "He doesn't like her?"

"She's a twit," Severus whispered in her ear. "And he's in love with someone else, a Muggle-born, much like yourself."

Hermione stopped moving and nearly tripped him. "He's indicated he did, but a Mug...like me?"

"Keep dancing or we'll draw attention," Severus reprimanded her softly, and they resumed dancing. He lowered his voice so she could barely hear him over the music, "I told you; he's wavering, and that is one of the reasons why."

She nodded and glanced at Larissa and her father. She was pretty: long, blonde hair, thin yet quite busty. She moved with well-practiced grace and reminded her of Fleur Weasley in a way, although she looked like the type to be snooty, much like Pansy.

Hermione looked for Cillian and spotted him edging his way across the room. As she watched, the music changed, and Roquewood looked up, drawing his daughter to the side, having apparently spotted Cillian. Severus led Hermione from the dance floor, and Cillian moved to intercept them.

"Having a good time?" Hermione asked when they all were standing close enough to talk.

"Not particularly," he replied. Roquewood jutted his chin up in their direction as if in acknowledgement, and Cillian turned so he was facing her while giving the impression that he hadn't seen the father-daughter couple. "You?"

"Well enough I suppose, considering the majority of the company," she replied, seeing Roquewood and the smiling girl on his arm headed their way. "They're walking over here."

"Time to make an escape," Severus said with a smirk.

"Damn. Do you mind?" Cillian growled as he grasped Hermione's elbow and led her to the dance floor.

Mr. Roquewood stopped next to Severus and glared at Hermione and Cillian as they started to dance. "You're going to get me in trouble, aren't you?" she asked, noting the ice-cold glare from Larissa.

"No," Cillian stated, drawing her further out onto the floor. "I don't want to..." He sighed. "I'd prefer to dance with a mooncalf."

Hermione laughed when she'd immediately thought of him dancing in a cornfield with the mooncalves, helping them produce a crop circle. "I think tonight, I'd prefer that, too," she said and laughed at his incredulous stare. "Dancing with you and the mooncalves in a cornfield rather than here surrounded by Death Eaters who'd like nothing better than... who knows what? Kill me? Torture me to insanity?"

"They wouldn't dare do that here tonight," he said, lightening up again. "You've been marked, and he'd torture them for trying."

She smiled at him and then saw Mr. Roquewood and his daughter on the dance floor making their way to them. His gaze caught hers, and Hermione felt a chill from the odd look in his eyes. It wasn't kindly, not that she expected it to be, but a lewd, calculating gaze that bore into her. "He's coming this way," she warned Cillian, then realized they were in the middle of the dance floor. Protocol for exchanging partners meant... "I don't want to be stuck with him," she pleaded, trying to force down the panic rising in her chest. As Roquewood approached, his brown eyes riveted on her, sneering at her with a knowing leer, something clicked. The scar that cut through his eyebrow and the crooked teeth...

A wizard grabbed her roughly by her hair, jerking her head back as he leaned over her. He had a scar that cut through his eyebrow and crooked teeth in a crooked smile. 'Oh let the rest of us have a go at her, my Lord. Or at least offer us some sport before you kill her. I know Dolohov and Jugson would like to exact a little pay-back from the wench...' His breath smelled like he'd eaten a dead rat.

"You won't."

'What makes you think you deserve her, Roquewood?' Voldemort sneered, circling her.

'What wouldn't a wizard like to do to a pretty little tramp that fights against her betters,' Roquewood said with a sneer.

'As long as she is not killed or maimed,' Voldemort said offhandedly. 'That I reserve for my pleasure.'

'Oh, we know not to break our toys, don't we Dolohov?' Roquewood asked, removing his robe and smiling at Dolohov.

Dolohov's smirk turned into a cold smile. 'Speak for yourself; I have a few things in mind for this one. If you'll allow the indulgence, Master. This one owes me,' he sneered, grasping his crotch as Malfoy moved closer...

"Hermione," Cillian said, snapping her out of her anamnesis.

"Er, what?" she asked, stumbling slightly.

"You all right?" he asked.

"Please, let me go," she started to say, turning away, and her knees gave. She immediately grasped his robes as his arm tightened around her, holding her up.

"Let's get you to the drawing rooms," he suggested, leading her from the dance floor.

Both Roquewoods glared at her: Mr. Roquewood sneering at her with a knowing leer, and Larissa with loathing as she and Cillian walked by.

Hermione felt nauseous. Somehow she knew that he was one of the men who'd raped her, or worse, but she was certain he was one of them.

Cillian dropped her onto a settee and thrust a cup into her hand. "Ice water," he said. "Drink."

She glanced up as she sipped the water and saw Severus watching her. "What happened?" he asked.

"Started to faint, I think?" Cillian replied, more like a question than a statement.

"Roquewood," Hermione gasped between sips. "I recognized him."

"From...?" Severus prompted.

She shook her head. "I'd rather forget," she replied as a house-elf handed her a cold flannel. She dabbed at her neck and chest with the cloth, and it felt good on her skin. "I'm sorry to have caused a scene," she finally said as the wooziness went away.

Severus sat down next to her. "Hermione, I removed what I could," he said softly. "But those that were there, they are here tonight. You have to pull yourself together."

She looked up at him, realizing he'd looked, and sighed. "I know, I recognize so many of them. I fact, I recognize nearly all of them, seem to remember all their names. But... it was the way he was leering at me." She lowered her head as she clasped the glass and flannel in her lap. "It just came over me." She looked up at Cillian. "I could feel the malice radiating from him and knew that he was going to maneuver it so Cillian was dancing with his daughter and that I'd be stuck with him."

"Not if I can help it," Cillian stated. "I can politely decline, Hermione. It's rude, but not socially unacceptable."

"But if you are supposed to be engaged to her," Hermione said softly.

"That's not going to happen either," Cillian said, his posture becoming rigid.

"Drink some more water," Severus suggested. "When you're collected, we'll go back out there."

Hermione nodded, and he stood so he could talk quietly with Cillian.

When they returned to the ballroom, Severus danced with her again. Afterward, several men came to speak to Severus, although most only wanted the excuse to see her new Mark.

Belladonna Rosier and her father ended up standing close to Severus and Hermione as the music changed. Belladonna made a subtle tilt of her head toward them, and Mr. Rosier Sr. asked Severus to dance with her. Unfortunately, that left Hermione stuck dancing with Mr. Rosier. However, after only a few steps, Hermione saw Lucius Malfoy step up behind him. "May I cut in?" he asked in a bored drawl. "I think Runcorn was looking for you."

Mr. Rosier stepped back. "Certainly. Lucius, Mrs. Snape," he said with cool politeness inclining his head to them in turn and left.

"Having a good time?" Lucius asked as Hermione placed her right hand in his and laid her left on his shoulder, careful to keep her mark from actually touching him. He was dressed impeccably, his hair washed and combed, but it didn't have the luster it had before, and his eyes... his eyes looked haunted, weary, and they showed worry lines.

She saw Bellatrix and her husband dancing close by. "It's a lovely party," she replied, since she knew that Bellatrix was straining to hear her every word.

"That means no," Lucius said smoothly. "I haven't seen you dancing with Draco."

"He hasn't asked me to," she admitted, wishing the Lestranges would back away.

"How are you getting on?" Lucius asked, drawing her attention to him, again.

"Well enough," she replied and winced.

"Not so," he said with a scowl. "I heard what you said earlier about needing to apologize to Draco. You haven't made any overtures at all."

Of course, he heard my confession. "I didn't want the Dark Lord to punish him for anything I might've said or done to upset him at school," she said, staring at his shoulder as they danced. "I've not been a very good friend this last month." She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "We are getting along better than we ever have before," she stated, hoping that an opportunity to talk to him might open up as it did with Narcissa.

"The Dark Lord was unhappy," he said, meeting her gaze with a hard stare.

She missed her footing as she realized what he meant. "Did he punish Draco?"

But Lucius tightened his lead and flawlessly covered her misstep. "So you do care?"

"I'd hate for him to be punished on my account, so yes," she admitted, blushing when she saw Bellatrix laughing at her. "Thank you," she replied, realizing he'd stopped when the music did. She mentally kicked herself for the lost opportunity as he led her from the dance floor and over to Severus.

"Do try harder," Lucius said as he walked away.

Cillian joined her and Severus minutes later, escorting Larissa Roquewood. Larissa smiled politely to Severus, greeting him as "Headmaster," and looked down her pointy nose at Hermione, saying simply, "Charmed." Larissa had a rather high-pitched voice. Hermione tried not to smile each time Cillian or Severus winced at Larissa's crackling laugh or the slight twitch of Cillian's lips when she spoke. Cillian asked Hermione to dance, and when they were on the dance floor, Hermione saw Larissa flounce off angrily, possibly because Severus hadn't offered to dance with her.

After two rounds on the dance floor, Cillian returned her to the side. "Thank you for the reprieve," he replied.

"Too bad your sister is convinced that you're going to marry her," Severus said with a smirk.

"Low blow," Cillian stated, snatching a drink from a roaming waiter. "We still on for tomorrow?"

"Yes," Severus said, nodding to a passing couple as Draco approached.

"Mind if I dance with her?" Draco asked Severus instead of Hermione, which rankled considering they were supposed to be friends.

Severus held his glass out indicating the couples dancing. "By all means."

Hermione placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the floor. "How does it feel?" Draco asked, once they were moving to the music.

"It hurts when it rubs on the sleeves of my partners," she admitted, and Draco lowered his elbow a bit. "Thank you."

"No problem," he replied. "I've been watching you. You seem to be holding up better than you did at our Halloween party, except for that moment when you were dancing with Cillian a while back. What happened?"

"I suppose I lost my footing, or something," she replied, and he smirked. "I needed to rest my ankle."

"That's why you were given a cold flannel for your neck – because of your ankle?"

"All right, I may have had too much champagne." Hermione saw Narcissa standing with Constance Mulciber, Estrith Rosier and another woman with her grey hair piled on top of her head watching them. "Draco, who is that witch with your mum? I recognize Mrs. Rosier from my wedding, I think."

Draco turned so them so he could have a better look. "The older witch is Estienne Runcorn. The dark-haired lady is Constance Mulciber, one of Mother's friends, and the one joining them in the blue robes is Laurana Westmore."

She was surprised by his cool tone. "You don't care for them," she said, blushing when Narcissa looked at her.

"They are all right, society ladies, involved in various charities. Estienne Runcorn is on the Morals and Ethics Committee and the Magical Preservation Society, and Mrs. Westmore is on the School Scholarship Fund Committee." He turned to look at Hermione. "I'm sorry about what he did. I never thought he would, you know."

"He threatened to before," she replied. "When he – I asked you to show me yours, the day after my wedding, at Severus' house, remember?"

Draco looked surprised as if she'd just reminded him of the incident. "I remember that; you actually wanted to touch it," he said. The music stopped. "Another?" She nodded, and he started to lead as soon as the music resumed. "I thought you were barking. I hate letting people touch it. I don't know why I let you."

"You told me he never would, that it would make him a hypocrite. But he told me, insinuated he would, twice. The first time was when I was taken to him after my splinching. He actually offered to mark me then, and he jabbed his wand into my arm. Then later, he came to me at my wedding – in the bridal suite, just after Severus left – when I was dressing. He told me then that I was his, that as a Death Eater's wife, I was bound to him by Severus' oath. That was the second time he insinuated he'd mark me." She looked at her arm. "I suppose you and Severus were both wrong."

Draco stiffened and stopped dancing. "I..." He took a step back. "I have to go."

Hermione nodded and watched him leave, wondering what happened. She walked off the dance floor and saw Glenwynn Glenwrythe standing with Theodore Nott and his younger brother, Walter, and Astoria Greengrass. She waved discreetly to Glenwynn; however, Glenwynn gave her a sad smile and turned to face Theodore.

"So, what did you say to my son this time?" Lucius Malfoy asked, and she turned, surprised to see him behind her.

"I'm not sure, one minute we're talking about my Mark and the next minute he said he had to go," she explained, still not quite sure of the reason herself.

"Shall we?" he asked, grasping her elbow.

She allowed him to guide her to the floor, and he led her smoothly to the measured waltz. "Draco told me what you said at school," Lucius stated. "You should keep your opinions to yourself." The music changed. "Is it so hard to try and appease the Dark Lord's wishes?"

"You should know, you're living with him, aren't you?" she asked and lowered her voice. She hadn't thought she'd have another opportunity to speak to him that evening and was going to take advantage of it now. "How are things? Are you happy? Are you doing all right? Because from what I've heard, life isn't all he promised it would be this time around – in fact things are worse."

His jaw clenched. "You should watch what you say and to whom," he spat through his clenched teeth while maintaining a polite, albeit forced smile.

Hermione thought that even if he didn't want to hear it, this would be her only opportunity to be frank with him. "All I'm saying is that you've put everything on the line for him, put your family in jeopardy and for what? You're a smart businessman and brilliant politician, and you've put your lot in with the Dark Lord. That doesn't even make sense from a financial point of view, putting all your Galleons on one stock and hoping for the best."

He looked down at her. "What do you know about it?"

"My father invests in stocks, and he generally diversifies," she replied, trying to look innocent. "They have quite the nest egg – er, savings. They could – they have retired and are living quite comfortably, I assure you. He always told me not to put everything in one basket so to speak – and yet that's exactly what you've done."

"The Dark Lord is winning," Lucius stated.

That was what she hoped he'd say. "It will all come down to Harry and Him – in the end it will be the two of them – Harry, the Chosen One, and the Dark Lord, as equals. At least that's what Dumbledore told us, that it's their destiny, enacted by the Fates, to face each other in the end, one killing the other in the final battle. Doesn't he always insist that Harry is His – that no one must harm Harry except him? Why do you think that is, huh?"

His smile faltered, and he scowled, but she pressed on. "And so far, Harry has always escaped; he's always come out unscathed." It was what she told his wife, what she'd practiced in her head to say to them if given a chance. "All I'm saying is that opportunities arise, they come along. It's harder, being neutral, playing both sides. But then again, whom do you really want to win this? Which life was better – this one under the Dark Lord's thumb or the one without the Dark Lord ruling over you? Which one would you choose if you had the choice?"

The music stopped. "Life is not that simple. Keep your opinions to yourself, especially here. You don't want to be overheard saying these things." As he led her toward Severus, she saw two students from her own house, sixth-year, Garrett Shadwell, and Jonathan Walsingham, one of the team Chasers talking with Zacharias Smith and seventh-year Hufflepuff, Della Maggiora, all looking at her. They quickly turned away, and she knew they were talking about her.

"Thank you for the dances," she said, turning back to Lucius.

Lucius nodded stiffly. "Hermione. Severus, you might want to mind your wife," he growled and walked away.

Hermione recognized Ryan Maggiora standing amongst a few of the fifth-year Slytherin boys, but he looked like he'd rather be any place else than standing around talking to his housemates at the Malfoys' party. When Walter Nott and Astoria Greengrass walked off the dance floor, Maggiora excused himself and made a beeline for them. The three walked to the refreshment table, and it was obvious that Maggiora was hissing something to Nott.

"Okay, what was that all about?" Severus asked.

It took her a second to realize what he meant. "Doing what you've hinted I should," she replied. "Maybe we should talk about it in private later?"

"All right," he said in a low hiss. "But behave yourself."

~B~

Belinda wanted to rid herself of Hermione's hindrance once and for all. She'd tried twice now to get Severus to dance with her, and he'd refused both times, taking his Mudblood wife out to the dance floor instead. The indignity of it rankled with her. In fact, that intrusive little Mudblood had even preoccupied her little brother's attention for half the night. It was a bloody outrage!

She decided to make her play – again. She wandered casually around the ballroom, using a spell on some of the men, an Inception Spell, one not unlike the Imperius but without the annoying lightheadedness feeling to give it away. Plus the spell only worked on simple suggestions, things that the unaware victim would or might do. She simply planted a suggestion or an idea in the mind of her target, and the idea or suggestion took hold, becoming a thought that grew into a little nagging compulsion. It was ingenious really, and one that she could use quite effectively. And she could do it wandless and almost nonverbally, except she still moved her lips when she did the incantation.

Lucius was the easiest. He'd been showing too much interest in the Mudblood's relationship with his son, or the lack thereof, he needed to be out of the picture. He was sent to his cellars to check on his private reserve wine collection and his humidors.

Making Barcus Mordaunt, assistant head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission, Alecto Carrow and MacCavish each think that Severus should help round up the Mudblood kids on his holiday was easily handled. She also implanted the idea in their heads that the girl could just as easily be held in the Malfoy dungeons until the start of term. MacCavish didn't respond as quickly to the spell, but Barcus Mordaunt and Alecto Carrow did. The three of them walked over to corner Severus to get him to agree. And when Severus would predictability refuse, Belinda already implanted the notion to Alecto that she should insist that he go with them to speak to the Dark Lord about it. Get out of that one quickly, she smirked to herself as she walked away.

Roquewood and his daughter Larissa were easily persuaded to corner Cillian in regards to her little brother's intentions regarding his betrothal. That was two snitches for the grasping.

Draco was more difficult; he was standing with masters Goyle and Schlinder, but watching Hermione dance with Mr. Enfield as the young men talked. So, Belinda gave Amycus the suggestion that Draco needed to invest in the horned noghound races. That idiotic man would hassle Draco for days about investing and the importance of the sport. At least the boy would be sufficiently distracted for a little while.

That only left the Mudblood to contend with. However, once the music stopped the girl would be alone. A simple suggestion of fear should get her acting impulsively or at the least, make her want to seek refuge.

The house-elves started handing out the guests' cloaks so that they could all go outside and witness the magical astrological event. This worked well in Belinda's plans. "Inceptionus," she mumbled quietly, aiming her spell at the back of the Mudblood's head. 'Run. Get away. Severus isn't here to protect you, and you're in danger.'

Bellatrix turned from her husband, Rodolphus, and her brother-in-law, Rabastan, and walked up to her. "Playing nice with our new Mudblood pet?" Bellatrix asked snidely.

"Not if I have any say in the matter," Belinda replied softly. "I should get the girl to slip out onto the terrace for some air."

Bellatrix tilted her head with the little pout she used when wanting something. "What if you get caught?"

Belinda smirked. "Then we simply wait for another day."

"Pity," Bellatrix growled, tilting her head the other way and staring at the Mudblood. "I hate that wench."

The Mudblood's head turned, and her eyes widened in fear when she saw Belinda and Bellatrix standing behind her.

Good. Belinda reinforced the spell, mouthing, "Inceptionus," as she pointed her finger at the girl, and silently added, 'Be afraid – be very afraid.'

The girl sucked in her breath and turned around.

"Feel like a walk in the gardens?" Belinda asked, never taking her eyes off the Mudblood.

Bellatrix turned to look at the Mudblood and smiled maliciously as Mr. Enfield guided the Mudblood off the dance floor, only a few paces from where she stood.

Perfect.

"She'll go searching for Severus," Bellatrix said, her eyes widening in glee as Hermione was handed her cloak and was being swept along with all the guests to the terrace.

"Let's go, we don't want to miss the Dark Lord's astrological omen," Belinda said with a smirk. Oh yes, it was just too easy to plant the inception of fear in the girl. And she could tell that it was already growing into a compulsion. Lovely.

The girl began to move, to try to worm her way to the edges of the terrace. She turned and saw Belinda and Bellatrix following her with Rodolphus and Rabastan right behind them. It was perfect.

Rommald Jugson, Antonin Dolohov, and Thorfinn Rowle – three wizards Belinda knew hated the Mudblood – were moving to intercept her, and the Mudblood's eyes widened in fear. Oh yes, even better! And Belinda hadn't needed to use her Inception spell on them; they'd be the perfect scapegoats. The Mudblood turned and fled down the steps toward the gardens.

~H~

Mr. Enfield had asked why Hermione had accepted the Dark Lord's Mark. "I didn't know what the Dark Lord intended to do," she'd explained, feeling as if she was being watched. "He asked me if I'd accepted my fate, and I simply answered him as honestly as I could, then he grabbed my arm and told me to kneel. I was so frightened. I didn't know what to do. So, I knelt, thinking he was going to punish me for arguing with Draco, for not trying harder. The next minute, before I could react, the Mark was being burned into my skin... right down to... my bones..." She faltered, suddenly feeling like she was in danger and needed to get way.

She looked around and saw Belinda and Bellatrix staring at her with matching malicious grins. She looked away immediately, staring at Mr. Enfield's chest, wondering what they could be up to now. Whatever it was, she was in danger and had to escape – somehow – as soon as possible.

Hermione thanked Mr. Enfield when the music stopped. Oh my god, what do they want now? She looked around quickly and didn't see Severus anywhere. Severus, where are you? Why aren't you here to protect me?

The guests' cloaks were being handed out by the house-elves so that the guests could go outside and witness the full moon pass through the Earth's shadow in the dark rift of the Milky Way. Hermione knew that this was a very rare phenomenon and was looking forward to seeing it, but right now, it was the furthest thing from her mind. I'm in danger. Please, Severus, where are you?

As a house-elf handed Hermione her cloak, she found herself being pulled along with the rest of the guests out onto the terrace. She tried to hang back, frantically looking for Severus, Cillian, or even Draco, and ended up cornered by Belinda and Bellatrix with the Lestrange brothers closing in behind the women. Shite, oh, shite. Not now! Gods, please, where is he?

"So there you are, Mudblood. Going somewhere?" Belinda taunted her, her wand in her hand and pointed in Hermione's direction.

"No, I just wanted some air," Hermione stammered, trying to see an escape. "Everyone is coming outside to see the astrological phenomenon."

"You want to leave?" Belinda sneered. "Is that it? Go ahead, I'm not stopping you."

Severus – where are you? Why aren't you here to protect me! Hermione eased away from them, hoping to get to the other set of doors, and she saw Antonin Dolohov and Thorfinn Rowle moving toward her with identical scowls. Run. Get away. She hurried toward the steps of the terrace that led to the gardens. I'm in danger, and I don't even have a wand! Belinda and the Lestranges chased after her. She saw Antonin Dolohov and Thorfinn Rowle closing in on her left and Jugson coming on her right, followed by Narcissa Malfoy. Severus, please, where are you?

"What? Did you think Bellatrix or Narcissa was here to protect you?" Belinda sneered and laughed a cold merciless laugh. She raised her wand, aiming for Hermione. "Crucio," she snarled, and Hermione felt an intense stabbing almost intolerable pain throughout her body. She grasped onto a light post to keep from collapsing and screamed, but no sounds emitted from her throat.

~S~

Severus knew something was wrong when the Skrewt shell in his pocket vibrated. Hermione is in trouble; someone has used the Cruciatus on her! He excused himself quickly, not at all concerned with politeness or insulting Barcus Mordaunt, and completely ignoring Alecto's protests, as he turned and ran for the ballroom. He scanned the room for Hermione, moving between the guests that were on their way outside to watch the lunar eclipse.

He could not see her.

He turned, absentmindedly accepting his cloak from a house-elf as he looked for any sign of her.

He spotted Draco approaching, alone. So he wasn't watching her. Not that he'd expected him to be, but Cillian...

No, he's been dodging his sister all evening and from being cornered into escorting Larissa Roquewood, he reminded himself. Damn, how the bloody blazes did I get distracted? Too late, he realized he'd simply walked away when she'd begun to dance with Mr. Enfield. All because Mordaunt insisted that I should help round up the Mudblood kids on my holiday and place Hermione in the Malfoy dungeons... Preposterous, I'd never have... But it was as if he'd been hit with an Imperius! Except he knew the signs of the Imperius curse all too well and was always able to fight it off.

He reached out an arm to catch Draco's when the boy came close enough. "Have you seen Hermione?" he asked, still scanning the room instead of look at him.

"I thought she was with Cillian," Draco said. "I saw her standing near him before Amycus cornered me about investing in noghound racing."

And then Severus saw Cillian running across the terrace with a murderous look on his face. "Excuse me," Severus said hurriedly to Draco as he left to follow Cillian.

Draco was running after Severus to see what the problem was, hoping it wasn't Hermione.

~H~

Hermione was cornered. The break in the hedges was her only hope, but then the Dark Lord would think she was running away. Which was exactly what she really wanted to do at that moment – run. Run. Get away. Severus isn't here to protect me, and I'm in danger.

Bellatrix raised her wand, aiming for Hermione. "Stupefy," she screeched as Belinda aimed again, shouting "Imperio," but Hermione turned quickly, and the spells collided, somehow missing her.

"Stop her!" the crazed witches screamed.

Hermione ran down a garden path and found herself trapped by two more men, Coughtery deFay and Swithin Wroithesley, she instantly recognized as faces from her nightmares of the night she'd been trapped into all this. She backed up and quickly ducked behind some ornamental shrubbery. She peered around the bush and realized that Dolohov, Rowle, and Jugson were creating large holes in the hedge across the garden from her to force their way through. Wroithesley and deFay, having spotting them, were approaching, asking at the same time, "What's going on?"

"Why is the Mudblood here and where is Snape?"

And in the other direction, Bellatrix, Belinda, and Narcissa were now on the path from the direction she'd come.

Think Hermione, calm down and think...

Knowing that she had nowhere else to go, knowing that these wizards wanted her dead and could probably explain her death as an accident, she had to get way – somewhere – and fast. The Burrow... would be the first place Bellatrix would go; the castle was out – she couldn't go there without Severus...

"Severus is otherwise occupied as is my little brother," Belinda cooed. "Come out, come out, wherever you are, little Mudblood. Be a good little girl."

Hermione knew if she Disapparated for the ball room – if she could Apparate into the room – she'd face the same problem, and the Dark Lord's wrath. She had to appear where Severus was to explain... and she didn't know where he was. She knew she couldn't go to her parent's house because they all knew where it was...

Without Severus to protect me, they can do whatever they want... the Dark Lord will certainly kill me now, and the Death Eaters are getting closer!

Hermione stood and Disapparated to the next place she thought of.