This will be a long author's note, but there won't be any other long notes in the story. I've been planning this story since last September, and am now have about three months worth of updates built up. I plan to update this once a week, most likely on Wednesdays. It's currently slated for 32 chapters, but could go over that depending on how writing falls.

Stories sometimes take a village, and this one definitely had one. Thank you to: CourtingInsanity, OtterlyArdent, TheMourningMadam, HaveCourageandBeKind, DiagonAlly, MykEsprit, Frumpologist, LadyKenz347, and mhcalamas. Whether you edited, or were my sounding board, you are absolutely incredible.

Warnings consist of: eventual violence (worse than canon typical), torture, death, main character death (all I'm willing to say to soothe worries is that Draco and Hermione are safe), and sexual content. And in a few chapters (I will warn appropriately) there is an assault, and threatened rape.

Notes consist of: This is a complete magical AU. Hermione is a pureblood, the sister of Theo, and the daughter of King Nott. There are several tropes that tie into this story, which will make themselves obvious quickly. Also, this story is slow to the start, at least in terms of Draco and Hermione. It picks up, and when it does, it picks up fast. That being said, there is a substantial amount of plot to this since it's a war story.

That's all for my long winded note (so sorry!) and I hope you enjoy it!

She'd always thought of home as a cage.

A pitiful thing to believe when it should have stood for so many other things. Perhaps it might have felt like coming home, but she was always greeted by the harsh draft of the corridors, and the expectant look on her father's face. The castle wasn't the uninviting structure it had once been, with it's high towers stretching into the sky.

Hermione knew she was the only one who thought of the looming building as frightening. Her older brother teased her for it; her friends mocked her for it during their years in Hogwarts.

Sitting on the high walls looking over the forest, Hermione gnawed at her fingernails. Somewhere, inside of the castle, her father was searching for her. Knowing he was waiting to drop the news of marriage on her, she thought a sharp dive over the ledge sounded better than being wrangled into a marriage that was more of a business deal than anything else.

"You won't marry for love, and I'm sorry." Her brother had been quick to tell her this when she was younger, and the empty promises of how when he was king, he would absolve any marriage she found herself in.

Theodore and Hermione Nott could not have been more different, and yet he was the first person to be her friend. Of course there were times she wished they were still children, racing around the castle with faux wands during a time where their duty to their family was not being seared into their minds. That wasn't to say they didn't fight as siblings did. Theo had a wicked scar at his right temple from his younger sister.

Their father wasn't an unkind man. He smiled frequently, swept her into hugs that lifted her off her feet often, but with each that passed he cared less and less about her happiness. At twenty-one, he had wanted her to be wed shortly after Hogwarts. It was a miracle that she'd made it this far without being put in a full body bind, and thrown into a ceremony with whichever pureblood he chose.

The only reason it hadn't happened was because her father had an obligation to be sure his heir found a suitable match first.

Then again, the Nott—Greengrass relationship was an entirely other story.

The hem of silk robes skimmed across the linoleum flooring as she made her way down the corridor. Barefoot—Nott Sr. hated that, said it made her look like a commoner—Hermione let her fingers slide against the stone wall as she hummed to herself. Successfully having avoided her father until he left for the final quidditch match at Hogwarts, the afternoon was freed up for her to roam as she pleased.

Theo was off in Diagon Alley, and by three o'clock in the afternoon he'd probably found his way into a pub with Daphne. It wasn't a place for any betrothed couple, especially not a royal one, but Hermione was well aware that they weren't a regular couple.

Daphne was an enthusiastic blonde, who like any other pureblood in her circle had the world at her fingertips. Marrying into the Wizarding World's most esteemed family was just the beginning of the doors that would open for her. The eldest Greengrass sister had been a long time friend of Hermione's older brother, and that meant she would lie for him.

Despite the unfairness of Hermione's situation, she didn't compare herself to Theo. In reality, she was better off than him. At least she didn't have to hide who she was for fear of being cast out of the family. Theo had everything to lose: status, money and power. He would be offended if she'd even thought of it that way, and he would be sharp tongued to remind her that he didn't care about those things.

She sighed, coming to a stop in front of the library. Hermione had spent an entire lifetime reading her way through their personal archives, but her father had recently ordered an entirely new collection. One authored by a well known Potions Master from France, and he'd passed along the tidbit that the volumes weren't even in the shops yet.

She raised her hand, and then turned without another thought. The library would be the first place her father would look for her once he had returned from Hogwarts, and she'd really rather not be easily found when it came down to a discussion regarding her future.

Hermione nodded to the maid she passed, smiling politely as she rounded the corner. Hurrying down the spiraling staircase in the center of the castle, Hermione lifted the edge of her dress. She struck her toe on a stray piece of stone, and she hissed, "It's been there for years," she grumbled. "Yet you stub your toe everytime."

The dungeons reminded her of Hogwarts, of the years she'd spent with Harry and Ron in Professor Snape's class. In fact, she hated change so much that it was no coincidence it was arranged just the same as her former Potions Professor's classroom. The stone was cool beneath her feet, but she couldn't very well start brewing while barefoot.

Without her wand, she gave a flippant wave of her hand while muttering, "Accio shoes." The practical pair of trainers zipped into her grasp, a house elf sprinting after them.

Winky was bossy, and stood in as a mother since Hermione was a child. Hermione imagined the sight of Winky with her hands on her hips would never end. "Princess Hermione," she panted.

She sighed. "Will you ever call me just Hermione?"

The little elf was appalled. "You are my princess," she shook her head, shaking a finger at the witch before her. "The daughter of a noble house and you shy away from your titles so easily!"

That was the thing. Hermione supposed there were little girls who dreamed of being princesses, and once upon a time, being a princess was enjoyable. Until it meant sacrificing what you wanted for traditions you didn't care for. Hermione gave a tight smile. "I apologize, Winky. What brought you down here?"

"You can't wear those with that!" Winky exclaimed, motioning at her tailored robes.

Even though she wasn't surprised, Hermione's mouth fell open. Yes, the ensemble looked ridiculous, but it wasn't as if anyone would see her down here, which was exactly what Hermione replied with.

Winky's eye twitched, and Hermione took a step back. "You don't need to be down here to brew Mister Lupin's potions, Princess. You can buy them."

Hermione ushered her backward, gripping the heavy oak door in her hand. "Winky, if my father asked you to stop me from brewing, he should have known it wouldn't work."

Winky reared back.

"Do not beat yourself, Winky. You're my elf, are you not?" Hermione said gently, kneeling down. "I enjoy brewing Remus' Wolfsbane. Plus, it's practice for when I pursue training to become a Potions Master myself."

Tears sprung to Winky's eyes as she yanked her ears down, stomping her feet and wailing. "No, Princess Hermione! Master Nott says your duty is to—"

"My family, I know." Hermione cut her off. "I haven't forgotten what plans he has for me. Oh, please stop hurting yourself."

Her elf stared at the ground. "Master will be so upset with Winky."

Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "Come now, anyone who has ever set foot in this castle knows that I'm grossly stubborn. Father can't blame you." She sniggered. "The only person he can blame is my mother."

Winky peered up at her. "If you don't listen to your father, will you take Winky with you?"

She patted her on the head. "Of course. I'll be at dinner." Hermione rose to her feet and shut the door. "Probably a few minutes late."

"Don't be la—"

The door sealed shut, effectively silencing the rest of the castle, and Hermione exhaled in relief.

Hermione was indeed late to dinner, but she hadn't meant to be a half hour late. Presuming she would be back in mere minutes, she'd rushed to the floo while cradling the batch of Wolfsbane and flooed to Remus' flat.

Her professor turned friend had taken the batch from her hands gratefully, and then they had discussed a new book that had recently released. It was just too easy to lose track of time.

She popped directly into the dining room with a fierce crack! before taking her spot across from Theo and to the right of her father, who sat at the head of the table.

Nott Sr. glanced at her from the corner of his eye, carefully laying his fork to the side of his plate. "Winky tells me she told you not to be late."

Theo stared at his plate, a smile curving his lips as he fought off a laugh.

"I didn't meant to be," she said. "I was sidetracked."

"By the werewolf."

"Father," she stressed, her eyes narrowing. "I'd appreciate if you didn't talk about Remus that way, if you please."

Her father pinched the bridge of his nose. "Werewolves are—"

Hermione's knee bumped against the underside of the table and her glare was wicked. "Is that what we're going to do tonight? Fight? Father, can't we just have one night where we pretend to be a supportive family?"

Theo's humored expression slipped. "Oh, here it comes," he muttered, shoveling roasted potatoes into his mouth.

Father's brows drew together and in a rare display of being truly caught off guard, he had nothing to say immediately.

Hermione stood from her seat, her eyes hard and her appetite lost. "I believe I'll retire to my rooms for the night."

He frowned from the head of the table, only inches away from her, and waved his hand. His daughter flew back into her chair, her bum solidly fixed to the surface by a sticking charm. "I think not."

"I thought we agreed no wandless magic at the table," Hermione sneered. In a long standing rule in the Nott family, ever since she'd hexed her older brother bloody for announcing her crush on a boy, wands were not permitted at the dining table.

It was rubbish if even Father didn't follow the rule.

Father sniffed, lifting his drink to his mouth. "I apologize for speaking of your friend that way."

Hermione crossed her arms, not buying the half cocked apology one bit. "An apology only means something if you intend to follow through with changing the behavior."

"He's too old to be a friend, Hermione." Father began, pushing his plate away, a clear sign that a verbal lashing was prepared. "No matter your opinion on the...unfortunate circumstances he's found himself in, werewolves are dangerous."

She scoffed. "Remus takes Wolfsbane every month. I'm in more danger of being mauled by whatever man you'd like to sell me off to than by him."

His jaw clenched.

Theo was still silent, having leaned back in his chair as he waited for the inevitable. Marriage was a bit of a controversial topic in their house now, and one could not go one day without hearing about it. Theo had bet on when one side would cave, placing bets with house elves and close friends.

"I spoke to Gregory Goyle today." Father said, not too seriously lest he want a pan chucked at his head. "He asked about you."

Hermione did not get a chance to voice her disgusted opinion.

Theo's fist hit the table. "I would kill him for looking at her."

While their father looked pleased by the show of protection, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. The man couldn't find his way out of a wet paper bag. I'm not worried about Father doing him the honor of considering a betrothal."

Her brother still looked as if he'd smelled something foul. "And what did that bumbling oaf have to say?" Theo asked as he stabbed a fork into the potato on his plate.

Hermione snorted. Some things would never change and at the top of that list were Theo's temper when it came to her, and his immaturity.

"He asked if she was betrothed yet."

Silence.

And then—

"Are you serious?" Hermione laughed. "He's more ballsy than I thought."

Her father was not impressed by her crass statement. "I was less than pleased to inform him in front of a crowd that I seemingly have no control of my daughter."

"Well," she drawled, batting her eyes and grinning, "I'm not an animal meant to be controlled."

Theo's foot bumped against hers below the table, and the shake of his head went unnoticed by their father. "Don't," he mouthed.

Nott Sr. grimaced. "I don't think of you as an animal, Hermione." It was best to keep her opinion of how she thought that was a lie to herself.

"What happened?" She might not feel guilty for putting her foot down on what she wanted out of life, but she knew just how cruel Pureblood circles could be. Knowing that someone had likely attempted to embarrass her father made her just as angry as the thought of arranged marriage.

He waved a hand. "Cassius Parkinson made a comment of how I was surely setting a bad example by not wrangling you into marriage bonds yet."

The words bonds sent a shiver down her spine. Hermione kept her mouth shut, knowing how important it was to the future of their family, and she didn't want to fight, not yet. Not when it was sure to create a fissure that only grew wider with time, and she feared it would be a chasm she could never mend.

"Of course, Lucius was quick to defend me." he continued. "Cassius made an arse of himself when he mentioned how his daughter had found herself with the perfect match a few years ago."

Her mouth dried, and she'd known what was coming.

"Almost therapeutic to see the old man turn as red as your little friend's hair when Lucius gently reminded him that Pansy had never been in talks with the Malfoys."

Hermione didn't think of it much anymore; she had no reason to. Theo, however, looked like he'd been struck in the gut by a stray bludger. More out of politeness than anything else, Hermione asked, "How is his mother?"

If her father thought she was only trying to divert the attention from herself, he didn't comment on it. "'Cissa is as well as any parent can be who's been forced to bury a child."

"We didn't get to bury him," Theo snarled, his hand curling into a fist on the table. "Lucius left him in the forest to die for fear he'd been—"

Their father held up his hand. "Theo, I know you're still angry."

Their dinner had taken quite the turn as Theo rose from his chair, his lips set in a grim line as he left the hall without looking back.

Hermione moves to chase after him, but found herself still stuck. Shooting her father a weak look and an even weaker, "Please," she was freed.

Theo was shaking when she found him at the far edge of the castle, sitting in the familiar spot on the wall where she frequently found herself. She climbed onto the ledge carefully, swinging her legs over the edge and smoothing her skirts.

"I'm sorry," she whispered while she looped an arm through his and hugged his arm. "I know how much you miss him."

There was a strangled sound that came from his throat. "I don't think about him as much as I should."

She shook her head. "It's been two years, big brother. Draco wouldn't have wanted you to stay depressed. I bet if he were here, he would tell you to pull yourself together."

And it was true. She had known the Malfoy scion for all of her life, had been teased mercilessly by girls in her year when the gossip surfaced that their fathers were in talks. Hermione had been the third wheel when it came to Theo and Draco.

"Sometimes," he broke off as he glanced down at her, "sometimes, I wonder if he's alive somewhere."

She shook her head again. "He would have come home, Theo. Nothing would have kept him from his friends, or his mother." Hermione didn't mention Lucius Malfoy, not when she'd seen his son verbally spar with him over the years.

Theo didn't seem to believe her. "Daph tells me I think about it too much."

"I didn't know you still did." she murmured quietly while the wind blew past them. She shivered into the curve of him. For a moment, the thought that he no longer wanted to confide in her stung, but there was sure to be a reason.

He shrugged. "You had nightmares when I first talked to you."

She remembered the night clearly. "I know. I wish I hadn't if it meant you wouldn't talk to me."

Theo had spoken of his fears in the study that was only lit by dim candle light. Of how he wondered what his best mate's last moments had been like. Had he suffered terribly? Had he died alone?

Had he been infected?

The last thought was dangerous. It gave way to Theo hoping he was alive, afflicted by Lycanthropy, but alive. And Hermione has found herself thrust into a nightmare that consisted of twigs piercing her skin, razor sharp incisors are her throat, and blood splattering across the brush of the forest.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, brushing her hands through his hair affectionately. His eyes were red rimmed, the skin below his eyes puffy. "But Draco is gone. He couldn't have survived."

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.