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Hi Kids! Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Harry Potter, as I'm sure you all know, just came out, so I kind of put everything on hold for that. This version is virtually unedited, so please be kind and expect grammatical or spelling fixes, as well as possibly some content updates. Those are always good. :) Sorry to everyone who has to keep going back and rereading chapters for those content updates, but I keep thinking of more stuff that needs to go in previous chapters. What can I say?
Thank you to the lovely Amanda once again for your help.

*****

The door shut with a dull hard-wood thud, and Draco and Snape stood just outside of it. After a moment, Snape returned the wand he had surreptitiously drawn back into his cloak pocket.
“I must inform the Order,” he murmured. Turning on his heel, he swept down the hall, around the corner, and out of sight. Draco stayed, resting his shoulder on the doorframe, wondering what exactly he had just witnessed. It couldn’t have been what it looked like. Hermione always had complete control of herself. She was loyal; she was pure and good and self-righteous to a fault. Whatever was wrong with her would out, he was sure of it. He shook thoughts of her from his mind. Maybe the transfigurement charms hadn’t been such a clever idea.
Then it came to him. Of course, the transfigurement charms! They were the cause of this mess. He would go to his father’s library and research them later. First, though, he wanted speak with his mother.
He found her in her parlor, entertaining her sister Bellatrix LeStrange, Mrs. Parkinson, and Tonks. His gaze lingered on his aunt for just a moment. The murderer. Not so unlike me, he thought, then let the words fade, pushed away for the time being. It was surreal to see them again, these whispering, semi-insane women he had once known so well. His mother, too, was a stranger. She alone was the angel trapped with these peons of the Dark Lord, and yet she submitted to him as well. We are all guilty of loving or hating too much.
“Mother,” he said in the doorway. The four women jumped, and eight bright eyes stole away from the conversation to stare at him. “May I speak with you privately?” It was a nicety. She had little choice in the matter, truthfully. When a Death Eater called, you came. Like a dog, he thought. It was not always thus. He remembered his beautiful mother in his youth, fawning over him, but always with a slanted smile, as if she knew it would never last. His father, for all his faults, had never deprived her of Draco’s company. Yet, before last night, it had been a year since they had seen each other. Before he could join the Order, he was made to prove himself, and before he could be an asset, he had had to return to the dark side. It was his mother who had vouched for him. Snape too, but all the time from the Dark Lord’s side, not at Draco’s own. Draco had not been conscious of his mother’s love until that moment, standing before the Dark Lord, pleading for his life. It was risky. It was a miracle he was still alive. Snape had insisted that he needed an assistant with Wormtail dead, and that Draco would be useful as a spy as well. Then he had to pretend to be accepted into the Order. It was all very confusing. He wasn’t sure he even understood it.
Draco had not thought either side would accept him. He was prepared to die. But his mother, with Severus, had saved his life. And Hermione, with Severus again, was his saving grace with the Order just weeks before.
Another time.
His mother had come out of the parlor and directed him to an adjacent room. She closed the door. “What is it, Draco?” she asked, looking worried as she turned to face him.
“I wonder if you have invited the Ciucurs to stay at the Manor for the duration of their visit?”
“Of course, dear.”
“And have you spoken with Severus about Bianca’s condition?”
“There is no change?” A look of concern passed over his mother’s face.
Draco avoided answering her directly. He had to maintain that it was none of her business. “We are not sure what is wrong with her, but I expect her to be well soon.”
“Her mother is delightful. Pricilla says so as well.” Draco did not think that Pansy’s mother was any judge of character, but he did not comment. “This is all good news after all. Does Bianca wish to keep her current room?”
“I will ask her. Nicoleta is staying as well, then?”
“She has told me she will stay until Bianca is in better health, then she will return to Severus’ home. Severus is a lucky man, I think.” She was probing. It would be unlike his mother to be disinterested in the affairs of others, though, and as Severus was unmarried and Nicoleta was a “widow,” it made sense that there was talk of a romance.
Draco eyed his mother, mock-disapproval written on his features. “Clever, mother, but I’m not saying a word. Let them come out with it in their own time.”
She curtsied almost imperceptibly. “Then, may I return to my guests?”
“Of course,” he said, and kissed her cheek. He watched her go. So their place in the Manor was secured, and Tonks would aid Severus in being a link to the Order. From now on, he and Hermione would be mostly cut off. He let himself out of the room through another door looking down the long hallway to which it led. He started toward the library. It was on the other side of the house, near his room.
Then they came to his mind, memories unbidden: the smell of her hair, how it felt in his hands, her breath on his cheek that sent shivers down his spine and prickled the back of his neck. She was fire, rushing through him, ice on his skin, melting slowly, burning. His face reddened, and his pace quickened. He didn’t have time to think of the past now. It would take all of his attention to focus on the present, let alone the future. But there it was again: her laugh, her smile, and none of it for him. He had watched her, had seen her brilliance, her wit, but she had belonged to Ron. And now she belonged to nobody, but she was someone else.
The double doors of the library stood before him. “Alohomora,” he said, and they parted to gain him entrance. As he walked down the center aisle, searching for the book he wanted, he thought of her in the dusty library of Hogwarts. It was brighter there, and less lonely. He could just see her seated at the long study table, stacks of books nearly hiding her completely, pouring over some ancient tome that would give her the answers she wanted. Books never failed her; they always told their secrets.
He came to it: Beauty Charms by Quintessence Martin. He suspected his father might have bought it with his mother in mind, seeing the light pink cover and baby’s breath scent. Draco slid the book from it’s place and sat in a near-by chair. He found what he was looking for in the index and flipped through the pages until he came to it.

Transfigurement Charms, Permanent
Made famous by Cleopatra VII, permanent transfigurement charms have a reputation for being a fast and effective way to change one’s appearance. Within the bounds of the wizarding fashion industry, transfigurement charms are common to remove blemishes and shrink over-large noses. Permanent charms, though less conventional and rarely publicized, have enjoyed a new vogue within the last fifty years thanks to Claudia Rosenshawk, a famous witch whose copious permanent transfigurement charms made her so unrecognizable that she was often mistaken for somebody else. Nevertheless, her popularity spawned widespread transfigurement charms to be preformed by amateurs (often ending in disaster), though now many private healers are well-trained in the arts of transfigurement charms. Indeed, many make their living as experts in the field.
Aurors, among other members of the Ministry of Magic, are required to learn these handy spells as well. Permanent transfigurement charms, despite the beliefs of many, may cause an array of side effects, ranging from minor soreness at the site of the charm to insanity. Habitual users have complained of a nagging sensation or of a feeling that they have forgotten something important. Rare cases of major charm-work done in a short period of time, however, have created alternate personalities or caused paralysis. These risks are often taken gladly, however, since well-performed permanent transfigurement charms continue on as a popular quick-fix for the imperfect witch or wizard.

Brilliant, he thought, slamming the book shut on his lap. He had never been more frustrated at the Order. Had any of them bothered to crack a book on permanent transfigurement charms at all before just slapping about a hundred on Hermione? No. Instead they trusted some crackpot article in Witch Weekly with Hermione’s life. Now she had an “alternate personality,” the worst symptom, and it was trying to take over her body. Maybe it already had. It was the most surreal thing Draco could think of; two head-strong women battling or something inside of one body did not sound good. And Bianca wasn’t exactly Order material. In fact, she was almost as bad as Draco’s father. She was the ultimatum that could pull this mission apart. She was a liability, dangerous. If he didn’t do something, she would almost certainly compromise the operation. Then they’d all be at the Dark Lord’s mercy, and that wasn’t all too promising.
Leaving Beauty Charms in the armchair, Draco strode out of the library to find Severus.


***

Bianca leaned on the wall to the right of the doorway, a smile simmering on her lips and her fingernails scratching the wall excitedly. A secret conversation between Severus and Lucius? Too good to pass up. She listened, their voices hollow through the door.
“…want, Severus? I am eager to hear your position,”
“It would presumptuous to kill them so soon. We are not even sure of her whereabouts. She may not find out for weeks, months even.”
“True. I suppose LeStrange gets a little carried away.” Bianca’s smile broadened as she remembered the black-haired witch from the night before. There was something wild about her, something like fire, that made Bianca shudder.
Shudder?
Bianca let the back of her head rest against the cool stone wall, brushing aside the urge as the discussion inside continued.
“Her parents, you said? Why them?”
“They are easy targets, of course, but that is not all. The muggle aspect would greatly further our cause. The parents of a famous mudblood? It’s perfect publicity.”
“Does the Dark Lord-”
“No. We thought we’d tell him at the meeting tonight.” Lucius’ voice was excited, eager.
“Fool!” Bianca heard angry footsteps and the swishing of cloaks. “The Dark Lord already knows of your plan. He sees all, knows all. It is clumsy of you to forget such a simple fact.”
“Have you spoken with him-”
“On this subject? Not extensively. The mudblood’s parents are of very little interest to the Dark Lord. While Ms. Granger may have an emotional attachment to these muggles, there are some of more consequence who are much more likely to stand in our way.”
“But none more potently disarming than the Grangers-” Bianca heard no more. She was retching on the floor now, though she could not think why. Her slim legs had folded themselves beneath her where she stood. Her eyes were rolling, and the room spun terribly. The calm, smooth demeanor fought against this new thing, or so it seemed to Bianca, that was clawing at her from within. Tears welled up in her eyes. A sob broke her lips, though her mouth was still arranged in a smile. Her graceful hands pounded the floor, a crude, brutal gesture that could not be her own, and yet it was.
Bianca was vaguely aware of the two men looming over her now. “She must have been sleep-walking,” came Severus’ hissing tones. “No one has been in to wake her this morning.”
“Draco was with her earlier, I know. He finds her fascinating.”
“He left before she woke up. He said so when I spoke to him before my short errand home.”
“What is happening to her?”
“I don’t know.”