The Gloriana Set

Charms

Hermione frowned at the open scroll in her hands. Continued secret meetings in abandoned classrooms would completely undermine her Malfoy management strategy. Fragments of her pros-cons chart floated around her mind. In the end, she decided to go. Perhaps she could mitigate the risks of extended interaction.

She found him lying on the teacher's desk, his robe laid over a chair. Late afternoon sunshine poured through the room's long, narrow Gothic windows. He had his wand out, likely defacing the high ceiling above with degenerate runes. Hermione purposely did not look to see.

"You're late," he said, sitting up. A fringe of white-blond hair fell over one eye, and he tossed his head back impatiently.

"I just saw the note," she answered. "Why not after dinner?"

"Quidditch practice."

Hermione nodded, flushing slightly. "It must be on your ..." She placed her bag on a table and tried to look stern. "Empty your pockets, Malfoy."

He raised an eyebrow. "Surely you didn't just order me to empty my pockets."

"And let me search your bag."

"That is an invasion of my privacy."

"Says the man who dumped out my bag on that very desk."

Malfoy scowled. "You were withholding my property, Granger."

"You ambushed me with a hidden magical substance," she returned.

They glared at each other until Hermione spoke again. "I've chosen my first experimental potion," she said. "Blood magic."

He blinked. "Blood magic," he repeated. Her meaning was clear: She'd let him help her with the "Die Mudbloods" case. She didn't think he wrote the message.

Malfoy slowly slid off the desk. "Why stop at my pockets, then?" he asked, smiling. "Perhaps you should search my person as well. Seems only fair." Stepping closer, he deftly unspooled his green-and-silver tie, pulling it off, and Hermione found herself staring.

"No." Hermione cleared her throat. "No," she repeated in her best McGonagall tone. "That won't be necessary."

Malfoy's hand tightened around the tie, then he tossed it onto the table beside them and emptied his pockets. There wasn't much to see: a wand, a few galleons, a heavy ring. She peered down at the last item. It was a small work of art, silver and onyx, embossed with silver dragons and a large M in the center. The motto on the crest made her skin crawl. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper. Purity will always conquer.

"Why don't you wear it?" she asked, looking up at him. Draco was now the head of the family, since Lucius' life sentence in Azkaban had stripped the elder Malfoy of all titles, rights and fortune.

"Would you?" he asked, his smile gone. He looked away. "Would you bear that name if you didn't have to?"

"No," Hermione said. She stepped to the right so she could see his eyes again. "Will you ever wear it?"

His face was completely shuttered now, his eyes just silvery glass. "One day," he said coolly. "One day that name will mean something again." He pocketed the ring, wand and coins, then set his bag on the table before her.

Hermione stared at the soft leather bag—it probably cost more than the entire contents of her trunk—thinking about his words. How would Malfoy go about redeeming his family name? Could it even be done?

"Well, Granger?"

Hermione still hesitated, her hand over the bag's silver clasp. What did she expect to find? Evil talismans? Wizard porn? No, she had to do this. She couldn't risk another go-around with that horrid Salt of the Earth.