When Darkness Falls >>formerly Pity to Power<<

Chapter Eight: Friend or Foe?

After several stupid Gryffindors decided to mess up their potions, Draco and Hermione left. Tomorrow, Hermione was going to visit her father again, and excited was an understatement.

"Draco," she started. "Father has invited me to visit! I'm so excited," she finished, looking at Draco who was just grinning with a somewhat adoring expression that Mione didn't pick up on. "Yes, princess. I heard you the last 17 times." Hermione flushed slightly and looked away, gripping the edges of her sleeves gently. Even after growing, her clothes were still oversized. That was how she liked them.

Draco seemed content with walking down the halls with her, glancing at her every now and then and giving an amused smirk every time her hair got stuck in the clips on her bag and she rambled on about how 'these things shouldn't be so sharp' or 'they should be better made' or even 'stupid hair'.

Hermione sighed, reaching the door and mumbling, "Dynami." Draco followed her in, chuckling quietly at her occasional frustrated grumbles. "What are you laughing at?" She hissed, turning on her heel to face him. He immediately blanked his face and said, "Nothing, m'lady." He knew calling her 'm'lady' satisfied her, and was reminded of its power when Hermione immediately softened and turned away again.

She sat on the couch, yawning slightly. Draco sat beside her. He, at the moment, was simply a bodyguard, nothing more. She was lucky her father hadn't actually sent death eaters to guard her. That would've been horrible, and her already poor reputation amongst the other houses would be gone for good.

She suddenly got a letter, her new Raven sitting on her leg. She took the letter off its leg and read it. It said:

Dear Hermione,

     Is it possible you could come a little earlier? I can't wait to see my little girl again. There's so much to catch up on, so much to learn. You'll love it, I'm sure.

                                             Sincerely,

                                                        Your Father.

Hermione sighed fondly. "I'm not your little girl anymore, Dad," she mused, picking up some parchment and her fancy quill, immediately writing a reply.

Dear Father,

     I would love to arrive early! I should be there soon. See you then!

                                       Sincerely,

                                          Your not-so-little girl.

Draco snickered when he saw the last part. "Not-so-little-girl? Wow, that's great," he said, amused. She rolled her eyes at him, but the smile on her lips betrayed her. "Well, y'know. I'm not entirely serious." Draco smiled happily and nodded slightly, looking away again. They watched the fire, Hermione eventually drifting off to sleep against Draco's shoulder. She would never admit she had done such a thing, but Draco would remember it for a long time.

Mostly because it had given him a nosebleed.

But. It was great, and even the nosebleed hadn't ruined that moment. Draco picked her up bridal-style and carried her to Snape's private quarters, quickly explaining that nothing had happened that night and she had simply fallen asleep while watching the fire. Snape seemed suspicious, but didn't argue and didn't mention the smeared blood on Draco's face.

Hermione woke up in her own bed, thankfully. She sighed happily, then exclaimed, "Father!" She hissed, leaping out of bed and throwing on some black jeggings, an emerald green oversized sweater, and some grey converse. She quickly put on some foundation, her basic dark eyeshadow, some mascara, and a little bit of eyeliner. She brushed her hair and apparated down to her father's manor. Ah, the power of ignoring the no-apparition wards.

She was met by her father saying, "about time," in a dry, unimpressed tone. She looked at him and quickly said, "I'm sorry father, I just fell asleep! Must've been the gas from that drowsiness potion those idiots exploded." Tom frowned but nodded. She had been told to call him either father or Tom, as he didn't expect her to immediately be okay with doing all the good dad stuff with him. In all honesty, he was surprised she called him father at all.

"I have many things to tell you," he said. "Sit, and I'll have some tea made." He snapped and a tiny, shivering elf in a pillowcase appeared. "Y-yes, Master T-Tom?" She said, stuttering in her high pitched voice. "I'd like some tea prepared," he replied smoothly. Like his old voice, before he became the snake like creature he is today. The elf nodded frantically. "T-tippy will d-do it, M-Master," she said, popping away.

He looked at Hermione who had raised an eyebrow. "Tom? They call you that? I thought they'd call you the Dark Lord or something." He grinned. "You would think that, wouldn't you?" He replied. "Now, you may be wondering why my voice is back to normal. Well, that is because this snake-like appearance I have is simply a glamour. Did you really think I look like this?" He said, gesturing to his noseless face. Hermione flushed and shook her head. Tom mumbled a spell and suddenly he looked like his old self, from Hogwarts. The only exception being crimson eyes that could easily be mistaken for brown.

"Why don't you look older?" She asked curiously, pretending not to be shocked by his–ahem–attractive appearance. "Ah, horcruxes do that," he said bluntly, sighing. "They kinda slowed my aging down a little. I should look like any other 70 year old," he responded. Hermione's eyes widened and she nearly choked on her tea. "70?!" She exclaimed. He grinned. "Mhm. Look rather good for my age, don't I?" He replied, raising an eyebrow. Hermione flushed again. "Eh," she replied, faking disinterest. He smiled fondly before saying, "Well, let's get to the point. Dear, we didn't get rid of you. You were taken from us."

Hermione blinked. "By who?" He looked at her sadly, pausing before he sighed and replied, "Your headmaster, and his Order friends."