The Green Girl

Sixth Year Part 1

Hermione didn't stay at what was nominally her own home that summer; she just dropped off her things and greeted her parents. "I have some independent Potions research to do," she lied easily, "and the Malfoys have a lab in their house. It's okay if I stay with them, right?"

"Remind me what Potions is?" her father asked.

"Sort of wizarding chemistry," she said, "with a dash of pharmacology thrown in."

"Science then," he said approvingly. "Have a good time, sweetheart."

"Be polite to Mrs. Malfoy," her mother said.

And that was that.

"It's weird that your parents are so comfortable just letting you run off and stay with me," Draco said and she shrugged.

"They were never exactly the smothering type even when I was little. They were both busy in their practice and anything that made me more independent they liked. Now? The idea that I'm off doing independent science research is all good. If I were a Muggle they'd probably have shipped me off to some kind of school-y summer camp anyway so..."

"Still weird," Draco said.

He'd been subdued since they'd gotten the news his father was in Azkaban. In between flashes of rage, he sat staring out windows for hours at a time. "We'll get them," Hermione would promise. "We'll get them all."

Malfoy Manor was a tad less comfortable this summer than it had been in the past. Tom Riddle was there most days, surrounded by what Death Eaters weren't in prison, making plans. This meant Hermione saw little of him at first; she couldn't quite decide whether that was a relief or a disappointment. The man was terrifying, true, but charismatic. That he'd built a following of people who'd go to prison for him - who'd die for him - wasn't hard to believe after you spent any time in his presence.

He also had a way of making it seem, when he turned his attention onto you, as though you were the cleverest, most interesting person he'd ever met. At dinner one night, after plates had been cleared, he leaned back and regarded Hermione and said, one of those amused half-smiles on his face, "Did I tell you Dumbledore rescued Dolores Umbridge?"

Hermione set her wine glass down and prepared to fence. "No," she said, smiling back. "How disappointing."

Riddle laughed and Bellatrix Lestrange glowered at Hermione across the table. "Yes, though she's apparently been traumatized and mostly lies there in her bed without speaking."

"I suppose that's better than nothing," Hermione said, "Though I admit I'd hoped she'd never come back."

"Let it be a lesson," Riddle suggested, "however clever your plans are to eliminate someone - and that was well done indeed, having Potter do your dirty work for you, especially unknowingly - if you really want them dead you have to do it yourself."

Hermione tipped her head to the side as Draco watched them both, his eyes going back and forth from Hermione to Riddle in nervous flickers. "What about delegation?" she asked.

"What had she done to you?" Bellatrix interrupted, earning her a slightly annoyed look from Riddle.

Hermione glanced at Riddle for tacit permission to respond before she spoke. "She had some issues with my heritage," she said, her voice sweeter than the cakes the elves were bringing out. "And there was a minor incident with a blood quill." She patted her mouth with a napkin and thanked the elf who'd slid a dessert plate in front of her. "Really, I just had a problem with her attitude."

"I look forward to seeing into how lethal a weapon I can turn you," Riddle said.

"It would be my privilege to do anything you might request," Hermione said, her eyes on Bellatrix, not Riddle. "Though I do hope you don't totally discourage initiative."