If Narcissa suspected anything, she kept quiet. They shared meals with her and she told them what she knew about Lucius's whereabouts — Hungary, at the moment. Since the Hungarian Minister had been killed the night of the attack on Edinburgh, his replacement had taken a tepid public stance on the Great Order. Lucius was overseeing the transition.

Hermione couldn't help but feel that Voldemort's army was disorganized. Draco hadn't been called on a mission in weeks. She scanned the Prophet and the Ghost daily, seeing the same names over and over. It seemed like the entire world was holding its breath. For what, she was too afraid to ask.

The day of the anniversary party loomed closer, and along with it, a tightening knot of dread in Hermione's stomach. One year since Harry had died, since she'd last seen Ron. Since she'd seen the ghost of Fred's laugh, or the way Remus and Tonks had reached for each other in death. Those had been the worst hours of her life. And now she would be attending a gathering to celebrate them.

Draco was the first one to point out that she would need to Occlude longer than she ever had if she hoped to survive the evening. She'd have to temper every reaction, bite back every comment, and allow herself to simply exist in a sea of murderers and rapists with a smile on her face. She'd have to be passive, demure, and obedient. And watch her friends be the same.

On Sunday morning while Draco was still asleep, she slipped into a silk robe and wandered back to her own room to examine the dress Pansy had promised to deliver that morning. When she crossed the secret barrier between their bedrooms, something on her dresser flashed a deep green, pausing her steps.

It was a necklace of emeralds and diamonds, resting on a black velvet necklace bust. Her eyes widened as she studied the intricate detailing and webbing across the neck, the sprawling jewels over the collarbones. She skated her fingers down the cool teardrop emeralds, their surface cut and smooth. It was collar-like, but also opulent and expensive.

"It's a bit much, I know."

She turned over her shoulder to see Draco leaning in the passage, his hair sleep-tussled and his pajama bottoms tugged on low over his bare stomach.

"Where did it come from?"

He pushed off the wall and sauntered to her. "It's an heirloom."

"It's…" She stared back at it, struggling to find the words. "A bit more than I'm used to."

"You might have a heart attack when you see Pansy's dress, then."

He moved to her side and reached for the necklace. The gems clicked against each other as he unclasped it and lifted it up off the bust. He gestured toward the long mirror, and her heart skipped as she joined him in front of it, lifting her hair up off her neck and twisting it into a pile on her head.