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Chapter Text

This was inspired and begins with a plunny woven in from Fran Lawrence from a Facebook group. This is a gray Hermione, with Order of Phoenix and allies bashing. I will be taking some liberties with events from the first war on. This Hermione will be more powerful than canon Hermione for reasons that will be explained. I will keep her from being a Mary Sue character. My intention is to post weekly, since I have a very nice lead built up. But we all know how the plans of mice and men go.

Chapter One: Hermione is done.

When people discussed reckless Gryffindors, Hermione Granger did not make the top ten. She wasn't even in the top one hundred. She was perhaps the least reckless person to be sorted into the house of the brave ever. But that description was why she had been, brave. No one could dispute Hermione Granger's bravery. For seven years she stood shoulder to shoulder with her best friend and her boyfriend fighting evil wizards. Right now the three were hiding in the Forest of Dean while hunting for the means to destroy Voldemort.

Using a long stick, she stirred the campfire, checking that the dry wood didn't produce too much smoke, her wards would only disguise it so far above ground level.

With an eye on the dark storm clouds gathering overhead, she walked the perimeter in the twilight, checking for anything abnormal or ominous. Fat raindrops plopped onto her head and the dirt at her feet. She ran to bank the fire before the rain could put it out completely.

She paused then, she could cast a few charms rendering herself waterproof, or she could go into the tent and cuddle with her boyfriend and listen to the February rain on the tent roof. After a rocky end to the last school year, the two finally got together over the summer months after a few weeks of dancing around one another. It had been the one bright spot on this dark journey. Hermione insisted they keep their romantic displays to a minimum. She didn't want to make Harry uncomfortable. Ron easily agreed.

Silently, she eased the flaps opened and slipped inside. She didn't want to wake Harry. Merlin knew he needed the rest. The stress of carrying the horcrux had been eating at all of them. She crept across the tent's living room area to the bedroom area. A deep erotic sounding moan froze her in place. Straining to listen she heard heavy breathing through a poorly cast silencing charm. Horrified she pulled the canvas back to reveal the boys, her boys, naked entwined in a rather compromising romantic embrace. “Harry,” moaned Ron.

“Shh, Hermione might hear you,” Harry whispered, biting back his groan of pleasure.

“She's outside. She's not going to come in early. Snatchers might get us,” Ron snorted, grinding against Harry.

“She'd be heartbroken if she saw.”

Or she might be turned on and want to join in,” Ron responded hopefully.

“Highly unlikely. And I don't like sharing, you know that.”

“Then you should hurry up and finish before she comes in,” Ron kissed him.

“Hmm, do that again.” They returned to their vigorous lovemaking.

She reeled from this slap in the face, something deep inside her snapping when she realized they were on her cot. Not only were they fucking each other's brains out behind her back, they were doing it on her sheets under her blanket. Ron was cheating on her and didn't even have the decency to use his own damn bed. Hermione seethed. This was the last straw.

Spinning on her heels, Hermione stomped across the tent, snatching her beaded bag from her chair. Without a second thought, she headed into the trees away from the boys. Tears streaked down her cheeks, mingling with the rain. Moments from the last seven years flashed through her mind, bringing home a sad, hard truth: they had never been her friends, not really, not like she had been theirs. Real friends would have told her they were together. Real friends, you wouldn't have strung her along, or let someone do that to her. Like everyone else, they were using her for her brains, well the ones who weren't busy hating her for her blood status.

The rains faded away and down chased away the shadows before she stopped and slumped to the ground. Leaning against a tree, she argued with herself. The idea teasing her seemed too risky to seriously consider, and yet, what did she have to lose? Deciding to be reckless, she threw caution to the wind and pulled parchment and a pen from her bag, and began writing.

Dear Voldemort... Dark Lord? Mr. Riddle? Sir You-Know-Who? What would you prefer? I mean, no offense, I assure you, but all these names get so confusing.
I am writing to you because seem to be struggling to get your hands on my ex-best friend, Harry Potter, his cheating bastard lover/best friend, Ronald Weasley, and, of course, the brains of the bunch, me, Hermione Granger, mudblood extraordinaire. I'd like for us to compete in a wager... if I win, you teach me all the dark magic you know and swear on your magic not to harm or kill me, either directly, indirectly, or through inaction allow me to come to harm. If you win, I will join your ranks, give you all the information I know on every member of the Order of Phoenix, and any other interesting little tidbit you can find when you go rummaging through my mind.
Now, for the rules: you are to set a competition for your followers which will run until 2nd May 1998. I am the target. The first Death Eater to catch me and bring me to you for your winnings can do anything he, or she wants to me. If by 3rd May 1998, I have avoided capture, I win. I will await details of when our lessons shall begin.
Something you need to know before you decide for or against this little game: I am no longer allied with Harry Potter, the Order of Phoenix, or Gryffindor House, for that matter. I am a rebel without a cause. Do you get that reference, Mr. Whatever I'm supposed to call you? I am sure, Prof Snape would.
The parchment on which I write this correspondence is charmed to open for you only, although you probably know that by now. In fact, I'd be surprised if you've gotten this far without trying to turn it to ash. Ha, ha! You tried, didn't you? I charmed it to be resistant to all the elements and magic, itself. Your acceptance of the wager makes the parameters and rewards legally binding for both of us. If you read the postscript aloud, then you have accepted my wager and the game is afoot.
Until we meet,
Hermione Granger

P/S...

Lord Voldemort tightened his grip on the parchment, his hands clenching in annoyance. He had, indeed, tried to incinerate the missive with both magic and mundane flame, both failed. The written postscript was obviously a code word of some sort, spelled to reveal something else when spoken aloud. Had she not been challenging him he would have admitted his admiration of her audacity and accomplishment. This wan seeming piece of magic intrigued him. Impressive really, especially for a teenage mudblood. The parchment could not be destroyed, it simply lay there awaiting his word. He summoned those followers currently in Malfoy Manor and Severus Snape.

Malfoy Sr. entered with both Lestrange brothers and Dolohov. Snape joined them ten minutes later. Voldemort gave them a moment to greet one another and situate themselves. “I have received the strangest letter this morning. A rather well-known mudblood of several of your acquaintances has proposed a game of sorts with rather interesting stakes.”

“Who would dare such a thing?” questioned Rodolphus.

“Granger,” Snape said quietly. Voldemort nodded.

“How did you know?” Dolohov's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Because every other mudblood in the world quakes in fear at the thought of our lord. None of them would dream, let alone dare, to write him to him proposing anything.”

“What is she proposing, my lord?” Lucius inquired derailing the possible spat.

“A contest between herself and my followers. An extreme game of hide-and-go-seek, if you will. For the next three months, 2nd February to 2nd May, she will be hiding. If any of you find her and are able to bring her to me, she will join us and her mind will be an open book to me.” One of them whistled softly.

“And if she wins?” Snape asked.

“You think one teenage mudblood dropout can hide from fully trained adult wizards?”

“She survived you,” retorted Snape, “but this one? Yes, there is a fair to good chance she can.”

Ignoring Dolohov's glower, Voldemort answered Snape's question. “She wishes for me to teach her all the dark magic I know. And promise not to harm her, or allow you all to harm her.”

Is it possible this is a trap of some kind? A Trojan Horse, if you will?” asked Rodolphus.

“She claims to have broken ties with Potter, the Order, and even her Hogwarts House.”

Lucius nodded, “Draco reports that Granger is the most trustworthy of the trio. She does not lie if she can help it, and if she gives her word she will keep it.”

“My agreement to the game binds both of us to our word. If she loses she will be forced to pay the forfeit. If she wins, I cannot allow her to be harmed,” Voldemort nodded.

Rabastan stared out the window, lost in thought. “My lord?”

“Speak, Rabastan. I called you all to me to advise me on this matter.”

“Miss Granger indicated she cut ties with the quote, unquote, light side. I assume she is a rather loyal individual, given her commitment to keeping her word.” He looked to Snape.

“To the best of my knowledge, she is, even when it was undeserved.”

“That suggests a perceived betrayal of some kind, perhaps more than one on their parts. She should she win, she will be nearby, available to you, and us, to win her over, encourage her to join us. Which might not gain you everything she knows, but more than we have now.”

Voldemort nodded his acceptance of the thought, then looked to Malfoy and Snape, “Would she be amendable?”

Lucius considered the question carefully, wary of answering incorrectly, “Anything is possible. Draco has reported numerous falling outs over the years, the worst being in third and sixth years. He was preoccupied with his own task that year but noticed Weasley romancing another girl, to Granger's distress. He reported Weasley's delight in rubbing her face in that and the girl in question.”

Snape murmured his agreement, “Dumbledore often fretted when the dunderheads treated her poorly, which was often and with increasing cruelty, but he only if it seemed she had noticed the objected to the treatment.”

“Why would the fool care?” wondered Rodolphus.

Snape snorted, “Granger is the brains of the operation. She has been since their first year. If any of them listened to her the Order wouldn't be only fighting us to a standstill.”

“You never encouraged them to, did you, Severus?” Voldemort questioned in a quiet, slow voice that suggested deadly danger and pain ahead.

“Certainly not. For one, my disdain for Granger is well known, agreeing with her would have raised questions. And second, the purpose of being a double agent is to control the information they obtained and sabotage them at the same time. Disagreeing both demoralized Granger and handicapped the fools.” Voldemort frowned, he attempted to accept the tightrope Snape had walked admitting, at least to himself, he often failed to. Snape continued, “Over the years I have observed that when crossed Granger can be vicious and vindictive. Her revenge was often swift and well thought out.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Voldemort handed Hermione's letter to Malfoy. “Read the postscript aloud,” he ordered. One by one his followers attempted to unlock the hidden message. “Oh, you clever sneaky girl,” he whispered to himself. “Leave me. Should I decide to actually entertain this charade you will be informed.” The assembled Death Eaters nodded and left silently.

He sighed, he was far too tired for these games. The war was exhausting. Looking around the empty room he conceded. He wanted to know what she felt necessary to hide in a letter only he could open. No one need know if he declined to follow through with whatever the little bitch was playing at. “Love,” he uttered a sneer upon his lips.

P./S. The last thing you need to know: Remember that prophecy you were so desperate for? I know Snape knows it. I know he shared it with you. He's too good a spy and too careful a Slytherin not to have. Do you remember that part about the 'Chosen One' having a 'power the Dark Lord knows not?' I bet that part kills you. The power isn't the sacrifice of Lily that lives in Harry's skin or the powers you accidentally passed on to him that night in Godric's Hollow. That power is me. I am not who you think I am, who anyone thinks I am. I am not just a mudblood. I am the heir to the Founders of Hogwarts, all of them. Through generations heirs unknowingly had trysts with other heirs. Eventually, they all led to me. Hogwarts, herself, showed me. My ancestors come from all four lines of the Founders, and more surprising, the lines of Merlin and Circe as well. I am the Power the Dark Lord Knows Not, only now he does. Are you still trying to incinerate my letter, cousin?

As this chapter is on the small side, and so horribly cliffie, I will be posting the second chapter tomorrow. Call it a Thanksgiving gift from your American author.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Hermione Gets Moving

Once she posted her letter Hermione apparated a few towns over. She had brought along muggle money. But Ron's distrust, and Harry's refusal to upset him, had prevented them from utilizing her money for supplies. She found a small inn and booked a room for the night. The lovely owner allowed her to check in immediately. The first thing she did was take a shower and wash off seven months of grime. Then she lingered in a hot bath. Once she felt clean, she climbed into the bed and slept herself out. When she woke shadows stretched across the room and filled the empty spaces. The clock told her it was three in the afternoon. She wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but she knew if she did she would have trouble sleeping that night.

Dressing, she emptied her beaded bag into three piles: hers, the possible, and the boys'. She intended to bin their things. She did not need for them nor did she desire to return them. Some old clothes and miscellaneous nothings, not anything they had any attachment to. She took stock of the shape of her things. Most of her clothes were barely better than rags. The food stores were completely gone. Her next priority seemed to be a shop. She needed camping equipment, clothes, and food.

She headed into the shopping district, provisions and clothes were the easiest to procure. The grocer happily directed her to the sporting goods outlet her son-in-law managed. There she bought a tent, better sleeping bag, an air mattress, camp stove, hatchet, and cigarette lighters. She returned to the inn and repacked her bag. She stored the air mattress and sleeping bag on her knapsack to lend the veracity to her story of a backpacking gap year that her little beaded bag lacked.

At dinner she looked over several maps, plotting her moves. She needed, wanted, isolated forests with few hikers or campers. She selected two. She planned to take a short vacation, a brief goodbye to her old life, then split the remaining time between the two forests. She didn't want to stay in any one spot too long, afraid someone would notice her. She had no idea if Voldemort even agreed to play. Other diners offered suggestions of sights she needed to see. She dutifully recorded everything, compiling a list, like a real backpacker might. After dinner, she arranged for an early checkout, though the owner insisted she wait until the kitchen opened so she could have a proper breakfast before starting out. Her eyes focusing on Hermione's thin frame, her lack of a healthy weight. She nodded but remained silent.

Setting the alarm that night Hermione lay in bed enjoying the hum of the radiator heating the room. She snuggled into the pillows and tried to shut off her brain. Every interaction with Ron and Harry played through her head with new filters. Glances and touches took on new meanings, or at least, different ones. How often had they slipped away for alone time while she had been in the library working on something for Harry? The two questions she kept circling back to were: why, and had they ever been her friend? Eventually, she dropped into a restless sleep.

The loud electric buzzing of the digital alarm clock startled Hermione out of her slumber instantly. Fighting the urge to shut it off and go back to sleep, she got up and showered. She tucked her wand into the pocket she added to her coat sleeve. In the dining room, the plump silver haired cooked shooed her away from the complimentary continental breakfast. “You are skin and bones, lass. You don't have to eat a full English, but you need more than a handful of cold cereal and a piece of fruit.” She handed her a menu. “Look it over and let me know what you want.”

“Oh, I'm fine with...” Hermione attempted to decline.

“You're setting off for wherever your feet carry you, lords only know when your next full meal will be.” The older woman put her hands on her hips.

“I suppose you're right. May I have an English without bacon, beans, or black pudding?”

“Of course you may, my duck.” She bustled away returning in ten minutes with a heaping plate of food. When Hermione tried to pay the woman refused and handed her a small paper sack of sandwiches and crisps. “I've eaten railway food. Now off you pop, my duck. You've many miles to go today before you rest.”

Hermione decided to give herself a small vacation before going into hiding. A moment to bid farewell to her childhood and everything she had been. Win or lose, the impetuous game she suggested would change her life. The last family vacation the Grangers had gone on before Hermione discovered she was a witch had been to Papay, or Papa Westray, in the Orkney Islands. She wanted to feel a connection with her absent parents before saying goodbye. She apparated to Kirkwall, Scotland, and arranged to fly from there to Westray and onto Papay.

She swiftly booked a ticket on the Loganair flight, the Islander, the world's shortest flight, also her only way onto the island in February without a car, or using magic. The passenger ferry only ran in the summer. Magic was something she wanted to avoid as much as possible since travel magic was so easy to track. The desk clerk gave her a certificate for booking 'the world's shortest flight.' It lasted a minute or less unless you encountered turbulence. She boarded the plane and stored her backpack in the provided bin. She was the lone passenger until Westray. A middle-aged couple boarded. Delightfully friendly, Alistair and Leliana Cousland chatted with her about their plans to meet Leliana's sister and brother-in-law to visit the preserve and see the seal lions. “I know people rave about the birds, but you don't want to miss the seals and lions this time of year.”

John and Miranda Shepard were waiting for the Couslands. When the quartet realized Hermione was alone, they demanded she join them for the week. Once she realized they were all staying at the Beltane Guest House she gave up and agreed. The couples arranged for her cottage to be between theirs. They quickly folded her plans into theirs. John insisted on hiring bicycles for the group. They biked to all the attractions: North Hill reserve, St. Tredwell's. The old pier to row out to see the Holm. By the end of the week, Hermione resolved to get into better shape. The time might come when she needed to run fast. Their last night on the island, the Shepards invited her to ride back to Liverpool with them. She agreed since it put her in a better place to travel down to Dartmoor and Wistman's Woods. At the gift shop, she bought a calendar as she needed something to keep track of the passing days.

-oOoOo-

Voldemort surveyed the assembled Death Eaters, most were his Inner Circle, mostly the ones he trusted most to keep matters from getting out of hand. Granger's postscript changed everything, and he could not risk some hot-headed fool going too far and irreparably harming her. He was hesitant to include Bellatrix, yet if she discovered she had been left out... she would be moody and difficult. “My loyal followers, I have gathered you for a special task. It has come to my attention that the mudblood, Hermione Granger, has broken ties with Potter and his lot. She is somewhere out there, hiding. She promised if one of you can find her, and bring her to me, she will join us, telling us anything we want to know. She also agreed whichever one of you to find her may do as your wish her. I add that until I am satisfied she must be alive and sane.” He looked directly at Bellatrix. “Other than that there are no rules. If by 2nd May 1998 we have not located her, she wins and you are forbidden from harming her directly, or indirectly.”

“We just have to find her?” questioned Corbin Yaxley.

“And bring her to me. She did not promise to come willingly. Be prepared for her to resist.”

“Will you be announcing this to the ranks this evening?” Rodolphus inquired.

“No, this is restricted to my experienced ranks. You have proven yourselves to me and my cause.” Several sat up straighter. Bellatrix preened. “So, I add to your burden of service hunting for the mudblood.”

Thoros Nott leered darkly, “With such a prize, this is hardly a burden, my lord.”

“As you say,” Voldemort nodded, “I wish you happy hunting then.” He dismissed them with a wave. His followers filed out.

Severus Snape sat watching the others rush out, eager to begin the hunt. Slowly, he stood and exited the salon. He nodded to Lucius and Rabastan, “Gentlemen.”

“Not hurrying off to win yourself a prize, Snape,” asked Rabastan.

“I have unavoidable duties, and Hogwarts is all the reward I need or desire. And the quarry was once my student, I find the idea of things others will suggest repulses me,” he replied dryly. “Not hurrying yourselves?”

Lucius shook his head, “I find myself sharing your belief this is a fool's errand. We have been unable to locate Potter and Weasley even without Granger helping them. I have no desire to waste my time beating bushes to find one girl. Not to mention Narcissa would never tolerate a rival, no matter how low born.”

“And you Lestrange?”

“I'll consider a few theories, but Rod and I agree we're going to stay close to Bella. Merlin knows when she'll go flying off. The Dark Lord wants her alive and well. And when she can't be easily found, someone will need to keep her in check.” The other two men nodded in agreement sparing a sympathetic thought for the Lestrange brothers and their task.

-oOoOo-

The Shepards insisted Hermione stay with them overnight before leaving Liverpool. They took her to Abbey Road, snapping her photo crossing the road while taking her about the city. They dropped her off at the train station the next morning, sticking around until the train left. Hermione changed trains seven times that day.

Having laid numerous false leads, just in case the Death Eaters were hunting her and found her trail, she finally made her way to Dartmoor in Devon. One of her other fondest childhood trips had been with her grandparents to the fairy tale forest, Wistman's Woods. One of only three high altitude oak forests, it resembled the forests in every story her parents read to her as a child. Dwarf oak tree trucks curved with sun seeking growth, moss carpeted boulders and foggy darkness added to the sinister feeling. Hermione loved it as much as she had years ago.

She hiked deep into the center of the woods, then turned off the beaten path. A small clearing proved the perfect campsite. She pitched her tent and arranged her camp stove on a cleared rock. She contemplated a cooking pit for baking but dismissed the idea. She studied wilderness survival and camping and cooking skills while preparing for the horcrux hunt, not that had helped much. Used to his mother's cooking, Ron had whined constantly comparing the two, even though one was over an open flame, and the other prepared in a fully stocked kitchen. Not that his opinions kept him from consuming large quantities of food at each meal. Without his expectation of five-course meals, and Harry's inability to refuse him, and didn't that explain so much, she hoped to have enough provisions for the next month and a half.

She shook her head, trying to forget those memories. Because right now she had nothing to distract her. She could care less where the rest of the horcruxes were. But the thoughts refused to go away. Even when she exercised she found herself reviewing her interactions with, well, everyone. Were Harry and Ron ever really her friends? Maybe Harry, at least until he decided he loved Ron that way. She didn't understand why Ron had taken up with her when he loved Harry.
She knew most of her schoolmates tolerated her. Her knowledge earned house points and her brains helped finish homework. No one sought her out for fun or to hang out. The memories of how easily everyone turned on her third year over that stupid broom and Crookshanks chasing Scabbers surfaced. Never any apologies, no admittance of being wrong, just back to talking to her and wanting homework help. Not even after the rat turned out to be a dangerous murderer. And then in 6th year, Hermione got upset over the idea Harry cheated in a way that would have resulted in a lifetime ban for both of them. Anyone else would have, too. And the second the busty blonde looked his way, Ron was all over her. Bitterly, she wondered if he had been with Harry at that point, or if she was the only one special enough to cheat on. No matter how much she thought about it she could not understand his reasoning.

During the first two weeks, Hermione obsessed over these thoughts, especially in the quiet moments at night. Finally, she decided Neville and Luna were the only ones she had any truly friendly interactions with, and if they could be saved, she'd like to try. Well, if she was in any position to request such a thing, or do anything. Perhaps an anonymous invitation once she left England. She also acknowledged she was in love with the facade Ron presented when he started wooing her. She didn't know how much of that had ever been real.

To begin distract herself from those looping thoughts she worked on perfecting a glamour spell anchored to a wearable object. Since the effect was. projected, finite spells didn't cancel it. All in all, she was pleased with the results. She had been inspired by the Weasley twins' protective hats and cloaks. By the halfway point of their little game, perhaps just her little game, she had perfected three.

Wearing one that gave her stick straight blonde hair and enough freckles to label her a Weasley, she apparated to Tavistock. She rented an inn room, took a bath, and resupplied for the next thirty-seven days. She then mapped her route of buses and trains to make her way up to Scotland. From Inverness she would travel west to Fisherfield Forest, the perfect hidey-hole having no permanent settlements, just acres of trees and wilderness.
-oOoOo-

Upon hearing Greyback and Bellatrix located Granger's childhood address, Rodolphus asked Rabastan to help him rein the two in. The werewolf and witch ignored the exterior of the house, focused on getting inside. But the brothers paused to admire the large mansion and expansive well-kept lawn. The white gravel drive spoke of serious wealth. An earsplitting noise alerted them to trouble. They ran to the side door Greyback destroyed in time to see Bella smash a small beige box with a cutting hex.

“What the fuck was that?” she snarled.

“Based on what little I can read on the box, muggle security I assume. We need to look around quickly in case that summons the authorities like a security ward does.” Rabastan said.

“Afraid of some muggles, Lestrange?” laughed Greyback.

“No, but attacking them will alert the aurors, and I don't want to be the one embarrassing our lord by outing his interest in the mudblood.” The other three paled at the thought of his displeasure.
“Get on with it.”
Greyback sniffed the air, frowning, “There are only two scents here, old ones. They've been gone for a long time.”

Bellatrix stomped out of the mudroom and into the rest of the house, the others following. White cloth covered most of the furniture, a thick layer of dust covered any uncovered surface. Rodolphus looked at one of few photographs on the wall of the staircase. Something about it bothered him beyond the lack of movement. He pulled it off the wall and examined it as he followed his wife and brother in search of bedrooms.

None of the rooms appeared to belong to anyone except the master suite. Greyback grunted in frustration, clearly becoming more agitated. Bellatrix screamed in anger and whipped out her wand. Rodolphus grabbed her wrist, “No, Bella.”

“Release me,” she seethed at him.

“You are not going on a rampage and destroying everything you see.”

“They are muggle and a mudblood,” she spat.

“A mudblood the Dark Lord has developed an interest in. You missed the meeting discussing this contest because you wanted to be a bitch. What happens in the future if she wins and wants to come back here for some beloved trinket, only that trinket doesn't exist because some psycho bitch destroyed it while she was throwing a wobbly.” Her eyes narrowed angrily, “No, Bella, I let you do that once and we spent fourteen years in Azkaban for it. Fourteen years we could have been preparing for his return like Lucius and Thoros. This time when you fuck up, you fuck up alone.”

Screaming sirens alerted them to the approach of muggle authorities. “Right, we're leaving.” Rabastan nodded and grabbed the werewolf and apparated them away. His growling wife tried to wrench herself away again. “I don't think so.” He pulled her to him and popped them back to Malfoy Manor.

They landed roughly in the corner of the dining room. Bella smacked him on the head and shoulder to get him to release her. “I hate you!” She pulled against him.

“The feeling is quite mutual at this point. Fulfill your marital obligations and you can be free.” He released her suddenly, she stumbled backward. She huffed at him and stomped away.

Narcissa chuckled lowly at her sister's antics, “Was that truly wise, Roddy?”

“I don't care anymore. She wants to be stupid, fine. But she isn't dragging me down with her this time. Nor, will I allow her spoiled behavior to jeopardize our lord's plans. She knows what she needs to do to be able to go her own way.” He sat down at the table.

“Thank you for your service, Rodolphus,” Voldemort said coolly, petting his large snake, seated at the head of the table.
Rodolphus bowed his head, “My lord.”

“What have you and darling Bella bickered about?”

“The Grangers do not appear to have been in residence for quite some time. We could find no trace of a teenage girl ever living there, or any child at all. My lovely wife wanted to vent her frustrations on their belongings. But there was neither the time nor a good enough reason to. The Order has no idea their precious golden girl left the duo. Attacking muggle aurors at her muggle home could tip them off we're looking for her. Not to mention should she win, she might be less than pleased to discover we destroyed her former home. And such pointless destruction does not paint us in the best light.”

“We are hardly the good guys,” someone further up the table said.

“Yes, but manners dictate I do not wander through this manor smashing things as I go.”

“This was wise of you, Rodolphus, again, I thank you.” Voldemort nodded to him, ending the conversation.

Yaxley looked at the frame in Rodolphus's hands, “What's that?”

“Photograph I was holding when Bella decided to go off. Something about it bothers me.” He studied it again.

“The fact that it has muggles in it?” someone joked.

“They aren't moving?” Yaxley mentioned.

“That isn't it though. It is almost as if something is missing. I just don't know what.” He handed the picture to Yaxley, who examined it closely.

“You're right, it does look odd. I wouldn't have posed that way.”

“Unless there was another person there,” Rodolphus said slowly, an idea occurring to him. “You don't suppose?”

“A seventeen-year-old mudblood? No.”

“And yet?”

“And yet, what, Lestrange?” snapped Crabbe, Sr.

“There are advanced memory modifications that completely remove the target from the victim's memories. All physical evidence vanishes like the target never existed. Some hypothesize the victim wouldn't be able to see the target standing in front of them.” Yaxley explained. Voldemort looked pensive. “If you wish, and Lestrange allows, I can look into it, my lord.”

“Do that. And Lucius? Obtain me a collection of the younger guard to question about our quarry. I know what your children report, I wish to hear from those not closely associated with her.”

“Certainly, my lord.” Lucius nodded.

Yaxley looked at Lestrange, who nodded. “I'll look into it at once.” He stood and left the room taking the photograph with him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: And the Winner Is...

Marcus Flint followed the wrinkled house elf down the corridor of Malfoy Manor. He had no idea why he had been summoned, only that most of his friends had received a similar summons. He slipped into the empty seat in the back by Peregrine Boles, who nodded in greeting. Beyond him Adrian Pucey, Graham Montague, and Cassius Warrington acknowledged him. “So, what's all this about?”

Peregrine shrugged, “Not even us marked men know.”

Cassius frowned, “Which you would know if you'd take yours.”

Adrian shrugged, “Quidditch League forbids tattoos, they view the Mark as a tattoo. Lord Voldemort insists we continue to play.”

Graham rolled his eyes, “Because not being marked means you aren't as invested as the others.

“Whatever,” Marcus said, “Dark Lord says keep playing, so don't get marked. He has his reasons. I have my orders, simple as that.”

“When you put it that way how can we complain?” groused Cassius.

Adrian smirked, “You can't.”
Malfoy Sr. entered followed by the younger Lestrange, and Voldemort, himself. Everyone sat up straighter. Marcus surveyed the room. The last six years of Slytherins, quite a few Ravenclaws, and a smattering of Hufflepuffs gave the older men their full attention.
“We are seeking your opinions and observations about the muggleborn known as Hermione Granger.”

A Ravenclaw Marcus didn't know snorted, “Potter's pet mudblood?”

“She's a know-it-all swot,” yelled someone else.

A Hufflepuff girl rolled her eyes, “I have no idea how her housemates could stand someone so bossy. Except for the homework angle.” Many people laughed.

“She is a powerful witch,” Gemma Fawley of Slytherin offered.

“With a mean right hook,” laughed Adrian. “Remember when she gave Malfoy two black eyes?”

Marcus smirked, he remembered wishing he'd seen the actual hit, not just the results. He remembered a different Granger. A bushy-headed first year that hadn't completely understood his 5th year assignments, but knew where to find the reference books he needed. She helped his grades significantly until she stopped. He also remembered how pretty she looked at Yule Ball.

“And her clothes!” another girl sounded scandalized. “What a prude. My grandmother dresses sexier.”

This continued in a similar fashion for about forty minutes, different words, but the same opinions: Granger was brash, bold, frumpy. A know-it-all swot who annoyed everyone, including her friends. Just as Marcus felt his attention start to wander, the Dark Lord stood, “Thank you for your candor. It has helped me to compare the observations of older peers than just rely on the information of those with a possible bias. You are dismissed.” He shared a look with Malfoy and Lestrange who nodded.

The others quickly exited the room. Graham poked his friends, “Poker, my place tomorrow night? Say seven?” The others quickly agreed. Once settled they filed out.

“Flint, a moment, if you would.” Malfoy Sr. asked.

“Of course, sir.” His father often complained about the elder Malfoy, which he thought was often to be sour grapes, but his father admitted he was a powerful ally to have. Cooperation could only benefit him and perhaps stop his father's complaints about his lack of prestigious service.

He followed the older wizard into a small study. The Dark Lord waited, seated behind the desk. “Be seated, Mr. Flint.” Marcus quickly complied. “Would you care to explain why, in a meeting discussing a topic, you remained silent about your differing opinion?”

“It is complicated, my lord. I had interactions with Granger that gave me a different perspective. I can't explain why I was hesitant to speak up in front of the others, but I assure you, I had every intention of seeking out Mr. Malfoy or Mr. Lestrange.”

“Very well, tell me, then, how do you know Miss Granger?”

“She was a 1st year my 5th year. She would help me find reference material in the library. She didn't understand all of it, but enough to help find books. Helped with my OWL revision, too.”

“What were your impressions of her at the time?”

“Eager to please, she just wanted to be accepted. She knew she was smart, so she shared her knowledge. She wanted everyone to agree she belonged. She had impeccable manners. Until Malfoy called her a mudblood later the next year, I never even considered she was anything but a pureblood.”

“Why did she stop helping you?” questioned Malfoy Sr.

“After the mudblood incident, she started revising on the other side of the library.”

“You never insulted her?”

“Uh, no, sir. I never, you know, defended her. Why would I? But I never insulted her. Felt like a betrayal of her earlier kindness.”

“Agreed, Mr. Flint, agreed.” Voldemort indicated approval with a slight nod. “There were quite a few opinions about her appearance, thoughts?”

Marcus felt himself flush, “Complete honesty? When she made the effort for Yule Ball she was stunning. I know Pucey and Warrington thought so, too. We discussed it that night. Really, it just seems likes she has zero interest in those kinds of things. She doesn't dress well, she just follows the dress code, like to the letter.” He shrugged lamely.

“I appreciate your willingness to discuss this, and your service to the cause. I know some of you lament your inability to bear my mark.”

“You have your reasons, my lord, and I respect them,” he bowed.

“Either way, my thanks. You may go.”

“Thank you, my lord.” He quickly fled wondering why the Dark Lord seemed so obsessed with the little witch.

-oOoOo-

SLAM! Harry flinched as Ron jerked cabinet doors open only to bang them closed again. Like Mother Hubbard, their cupboards were bare. “Why couldn't Mione take the food out of her bag?” whined Ron.

“What food we had was in the kitchen. It's gone. Hermione explained that. You didn't want her going into the towns and doing a shop. She was gathering what she could from the woods. You know that.”

“Yeah, well, if I had known she was going to get herself snatched anyway I might have agreed.”

'No, you wouldn't. You were never comfortable in muggle shops and you hate it when Mione and I shared things without you.' Harry thought to himself but remained silent while Ron rummaged. A few seconds later he voiced the pressing question haunting him, “Do you really think Hermione got snatched?”

Ron snorted, “Like she would abandon us? C'mon, Harry, where would she go without us? Either a wild animal got her or Death Eaters.”

“Do you think we should go back? Get help from the Order?”

“No, we'd have to go back to hiding. Sneaking around, stolen moments in Dad's shed.”

“We're of age. No one could stop us from popping over to Grimmauld Place for some alone time.”

“Soon, okay? Let's enjoy this a little longer. Not knowing where she is, there isn't much we can do for her.” Unable to refuse his secret lover anything, Harry nodded. “Great, now who wants to make a peanut butter sandwich?” Ron held up a jar.

“We don't have bread.”

“Who needs bread?”
-oOoOo-

Thoros Nott nodded to his fellows as he strode confidently through Malfoy Manor. His confidence, however, was only skin deep. The Dark Lord demanded a progress report on the search for the mudblood. He couldn't refuse the summons, but that didn't mean he was eager to report their collective failure. Arriving at the door to Voldemort's preferred parlor, he rapped on the door and entered when instructed to.

“Thoros, have you come to report?”

“Yes, my lord, I fear I must report our continued failure to
locate the girl.”

“Splendid,” Voldemort grinned.

“My lord?” Nott felt confusion wash over him.

“I will not lie, having the Order's pet mudblood submit to me would be most pleasing. But winning her over? Getting her willing cooperation? It will be the sweeter victory.”

“You are not angry?”

“Quite the opposite. I have been planning for either outcome. And we've been unable to locate those bumbling buffoons even after she left, if she was indeed the brains of the group, I would have been disappointed if any of you had found her.”

Nott nodded to that logic, “I shall leave you to your preparations.”

“Send me Lucius, would you?”

“As you wish.”

The blond wizard entered shortly after the other departed. “You wished to see me?”

“Yes, Lucius. It seems that very soon I will be hosting a distinguished guest.”

“Indeed?”

“Until we can ascertain her wishes and desires, I would be most appreciative if you and Narcissa would host her here.”

“We would be honored, my lord.”

“Speak to Severus, I would like for her to be able to sit her NEWTs with the rest of her class.”

“Certainly.”

“I want no doubt of her brilliance.” When Lucius managed to keep a neutral face, Voldemort decided to reward him. “She is a hidden gem. She is so much more than she appears to be on the surface.”

“As you say, my lord.” Lucius bowed as he left the room pondering the implications of those last statements.

-oOoOo-

The witch in question sat in her tent reviewing her plans for leaving the country. She refused to hike back to the bus station once the game was over. Using one of her disguises she would apparate further south, then take trains to London. She would check on her parents' house before making her way to France. From there she would disappear.

Christmas her 5th year, after Arthur Weasley had been attacked by Nagini, Sirius privately gave her an important present- his portkey to the unplotted island in the Pacific that the Black family owned. He told her he worried Harry wouldn't use it or would lose it, so he gave it to her for safekeeping. Looking back she could see the selfish manipulation. Sirius wanted Harry safe, her safety would be an ancillary benefit. He knew she would save Harry when he wouldn't save himself, even if it put her in danger. Well, her days of sacrificing for others were over. Once she had everything she wanted from Britain she was gone. She could live out the rest of her life in solitary safety while the world around her burned. In the future, she could reassess the situation and consider returning, maybe not to Great Britain, but elsewhere. Plus, she could offer Luna and Neville an escape as well.

She unpacked and packed her beaded bag. Then she began returning her campsite to the pristine condition she discovered it in. Anything to keep her thoughts from wandering. She hated the fleeting thoughts of where were they? Were they safe? What were they doing besides shagging each other rotten? Had they focused on the mission at all? Did they ever think of her, miss her, worry about what happened to her? Did anyone? Cynically she considered the answer to all those questions to be no. Everybody always wanted something from her, and it was never going to be companionship or affection. She learned the lesson, now she could try and keep it from falling for it again, or at least call people on it. Well, at least she hoped she could.

-oOoOo-

May 4th, 1998. Narcissa arranged breakfast for a large group of Death Eaters. Lucius had been unable to give her an accurate number, though assured her they would fit within one dining room, he just wasn't sure which. She made her way to the morning room to finalize plans with Lucius or the Dark Lord. She felt mild surprise at arriving before her husband's fellows. Voldemort stood staring out of the window. “Pardons, my lord, would you prefer solitude as you wait?”

“No, Narcissa, I wish to speak to with you have the time.”

“I always have time for you, my lord.”

“Ah, the benefits of leadership, everyone drops everything for you most of the time,” he laughed. “Lucius has agreed to host of guest for me, a teenage female guest.”
“He mentioned something to that effect.”
“She will need assistance acclimating to our world. Her introduction has been rough.”
Several possibilities ran through her head, the last most absurd one causing her eyes to widen unconsciously.
“Ah, you've considered her. Hardly a surprise given my sudden obsession.”

“She will definitely need guidance. I would be honored to assist her if she allows it.”

“That is all I can ask. I will not force her into anything she objects to.”

“The Malfoy family will do its part. May I inquire, which dining room we will be needing this morning?”

“The smaller formal one will be fine. Breakfast is Inner Circle only.”

“Very well, I will go finalize everything.”

“Thank you, Narcissa.”

“It is nothing. Is there anything else before I go?”

“Would you post this letter for me?”

“At once.” She took the envelope and left on her errands.

-oOoOo-

Sitting on a hard wooden bench waiting for her train, Hermione noticed a tawny colored owl flying towards the station. On the chance that it could be a magical owl, she stood. Pretending to be stretching her legs, she slipped outdoors. Behind the large brick building, she watched the owl's approach. It swooped down to drop an envelope into her hands. Returning to the skies it did not wait for her to even open it, let alone reply. The outside only said:

Miss Hermione Granger

Scans showed no traps, jinxes, or tracking spells. Cautiously she opened it, still no jinxes. She removed the missive from inside.

My darling cousin,

How could I not accept such a delightful game with such tempting stakes? Very naughty of you to hide the tastiest tidbit in that manner. I congratulate you on your victory. I am prepared to offer you the tutelage you requested and perhaps more. You managed to send word undetected once, I expect you can do so again. When you are prepared send word where I can find you.
Awaiting our first proper meeting,
Lord Voldemort

-oOoOo-

Voldemort surveyed the assembled crowd before him. “My faithful servants,” he boomed in a commanding voice. “In the coming days, the Malfoys will be doing me the great service of hosting a guest for me. She is to be treated with courtesy and cannot be harmed in any way. I have sworn this on my magic. Some of you may be called to assist in her tutelage. Miss Hermione Granger has cut her ties with the Order of the Phoenix. They are most likely unaware of this. I want to keep that information secret as long as possible. We want to persuade her to join us, so I expect your best behavior and impeccable manners.” He gazed levelly at them, making eye contact with several followers.

“You are dismissed.”

“Have we heard from Miss Granger?” Lucius inquired once everyone else had departed.

“I sent her an owl this morning. I expect it will be tomorrow at the earliest.”

-oOoOo-

Hermione landed in the living room of the Courtenay Avenue home she grew up in. She dropped her bags on the hardwood floor and quickly surveyed the house. The brand new alarm box, and a note from the security company about having to replace the box and the side door after finding them both smashed and a missing photograph from the staircase were the only signs anyone had been in the house. Knowing that Death Eaters had been in the house and didn't destroy more surprised her.

She collected her bags from the living room and used magic to unpack them. A few waves of her wand had the dust removed and her room set to rights. After a brief shower, she sat down and thought over her options. When the war began in earnest she and her parents discussed plans. Malcolm and Eleanor Granger agreed everyone would be safer if they left. They sold their dental practice, and legally changed their names to Wendell and Monica Wilkins. After that Monica and Wendell were off to fulfill their lifelong dreams of helping poverty stricken areas with their dental needs.

“All that we ask is that you do not sell off the house. Your several times great-grandfather's proudest personal achievement was purchasing land here.” Malcolm told her.

“The Blacks lived in the heart of London undetected. I can hide the house if necessary,” she promised.

“We put your name on our accounts and stocks. All the properties and vehicles are in your name. We instructed our broker to remove our names when you turn 25. Mr. Moran, our solicitor has instructions to do the same thing with the bank accounts.”

“And if anything happens to you, the Wilkins' estate will notify him and he'll tell me.”

“And if anything happens to you, we'll never know because we won't remember you.” Eleanor sniffled.

“If something happens to me, you'll never know the pain of losing what you never had,” Hermione told her firmly. “And someday when it is safer, I'll find you. And if it never is, at least you will be safe and happy.”

Hermione pulled out the important paperwork packet. She doubted it would ever be safe for her parents to return. Malcolm and Eleanor Granger would be staying gone. Before she left this time she would be making the house unplottable with muggle repelling wards. Much like Grimmauld Place, non-magical beings would not perceive anything occurring there. She popped out in disguise to do a proper shop. After lunch, she answered Voldemort's letter.

Cousin,
I am delighted to accept your offer of tutelage and while eager to begin, I do have some loose ends to tie up. I will meet you, or your envoy, 9th May 1998 at King's Cross Station on Platform 9¾ at 10 am.
See you soon,
Hermione Granger

She posted her response and went home to pack up once again, this time with a higher society in mind. Summoning actual luggage from the attic she entered her parent's room and headed straight for Eleanor's closet. Her mother tried to stay on the edge of fashion, occasionally purchasing then dismissing dresses as too young for her. Hermione chose anything she thought would work in the magical world and not look like she was a child playing dress up. She sent her selections flying to the bed. She repeated the process with her mother's shoes. Far more shoes made the cut than dresses.
The grandfather clock chimed the late hour when Hermione reluctantly exited the closet. She still needed to sort through the jewelry but reminded herself she still have four more days. She groaned at the idea of cooking something so late, opting to get takeaway. Instead of apparating, she elected to drive. The secluded secure nature of the house made delivery complicated.

Miles Granger had bought the last lot at the end of the road and built his house towards the back, lining the front with evergreen trees and bushes. Once she cast the muggle repealing and unplottable spells nonmagical beings would think the road dead-ended into a foreboding forested area they wanted to avoid. When she retreated to Black Island she would create a portkey to bring her back there when she was homesick. Not quite what her parents intended but it seemed unlikely she would get the chance to fall in love and have children while she was alone in hiding. Perhaps once Voldemort's people calmed down. Or Neville, she considered before rejecting the thought instantly. She simply wasn't attracted to her lanky friend.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Welcome, Hermione.

She put off going through her mother's jewelry until the 8th. Every time she thought about it or started to, her stomach twisted, her mouth went dry, and her breathing turned shallow. When she backed off the symptoms stopped. She remembered as a young child being enthralled with the beauty inside those chests. But at some point, she felt like a child pretending. She would never be a beauty, she knew her looks were at best pleasant. The glittering jewels were wasted on her. Giving herself a stern pep talk she marched into her parent's room and flung open the door of the standing jewelry chest. Maybe she should shrink it and bring the whole thing? No need to go through it. No amount of fancy wrapping would hide her flaws. She would never have anyone to appreciate it. She shouldn't flaunt her wealth in front of those that had less. She shook her head again and ignoring the thrum of her head, thrust her hand in and blindly picked up the first thing she came to. Delicate filigree gold wrapped around brown oval stones. She thought they might be chocolate diamonds. A crest stamped just about the stone's webbed cage caught her eye. For a moment her mind couldn't process what she was looking at. Her heartbeat hammered in her head. She struggled to take a deep breath. A flash of light startled her. She looked again. A very tiny badger looked back. The crest of Helga Hufflepuff shone on the earrings. Hermione staggered backward as a flood of memories washed over her.

A tiny Hermione and Eleanor going through the chests, Eleanor explaining the history of each piece, some from Eleanor's family others from Malcolm's, all intended to be Hermione someday. An excited Hermione mentioning to Dumbledore about having seen Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw's crest before coming to Hogwarts during her first year. “That bastard!” she screamed. She had never had high self-esteem about her looks, but her disinterest in trying coincided with her aversion to her mother's jewelry. Dumbledore played with her mind and memory. She forgot mentioning the crest, hell, she forgot ever having seen it. Then the manipulative monster played on her insecurities to keep her from exploring fashion, jewelry, makeup, and the like. If he wasn't already dead she would have killed him. How could someone do that to a child? Force her to think she was barely above ugly, that her only positive quality was her brain? She shrank down all the various chests and boxes and stored them in the luggage.
Feeling vulnerable and angry, she set out for Eleanor's favorite beauty salon. The hostess wrinkled her nose initially until Hermione dropped Eleanor's name and flashed her black card. “Let me check who is available.” She came back with the salon owner.

“Miss Granger, welcome. How is your mother?”

“Somewhere in India up to her elbows in molars and loving every second of it.” Hermione lied. “Call me Hermione, please.”

“What can we do for you, Hermione?”

“It has recently come to my attention that I have allowed a man to control how I think and feel about my looks, causing me to ignore them. These curls need attention, and I need your help to give it to them.”

“Of course, angel, let's get you started.”

Over the next hour, a perky blonde named Rachel went over curl types and showed Hermione how to maintain hers. How to keep her mixed curls from frizzing, and how to hydrate them properly. “Not all curly hair is super drying. A lot are like a sponge full of holes, the moisture just runs out. You have the opposite, a sponge with no holes if you will. You need products that can penetrate in to hydrate.” She shampooed Hermione's hair, she started by trimming off the dead ends. She shaped it into flattering layers. She demonstrated every technique she used to style her hair.

Staring at her reflection once Rachel pronounced herself done, Hermione couldn't keep the wide smile from spreading across her face. “You are a miracle worker.”

You have gorgeous hair, it just needed a little care. Now, off you pop, onto Alana. She's going to give you a facial and go over some cosmetics basics.” She shooed her client over to another section of the salon.

Alana asked a few questions about her preferences. Then showed her how to create a natural look. She occasionally mentioned how to do something different for a more formal event, or a moment when Hermione might want to look a little more dramatic. Hours later Hermione purchased every product used on her or recommended by the staff. She left a healthy tip for each of them. “I know you rearranged things to fit me in. Thank you.”

“Any woman held back by a man deserves the attention and care to release the hidden goddess. Go knock him dead, sweetheart.” Rachel told her.

Using magic she shrank all of the luggage down and stored it in one wheeled case. She cast the spell to make the house unplottable and strengthened the muggle repelling charm. Then with a deep breath, she apparated to King's Cross Station. Wearing one of her glamours she went through the barrier and slipped into a shadowy corner to watch for Voldemort's envoys. Years of running, hiding, and fighting meant she didn't quite trust anyone anymore. Even at the risk of losing his magic, she wasn't sure they wouldn't try something. Five minutes to ten the barrier flared. She watched Rabastan Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, and a younger man she didn't recognize step onto the platform. They looked around while walking to the center of the space. She watched them glance around, their posture relaxed. “How long do we wait?” asked the unknown wizard.

“As long as it takes,” snapped Lestrange.

“Do you have something more pressing than doing the bidding of the Dark Lord?” asked Lucius in a slow low voice.

“No, of course not. But what if she doesn't come?”

“We let you tell him,” smirked Lucius.

“He's eager for her arrival, he'd be disappointed if she changed her mind, so good luck with that,” Lestrange laughed.

Pulling off her bracelet, Hermione stepped out of the shadows, “Lucky for you, I decided to show.” She chuckled to herself when all of them were startled. She kept walking, pulling her luggage behind her, stopping directly in front of them. Both Malfoy and Lestrange looked pleased to see her, their third companion looked about anxiously. “You can relax. This isn't an ambush, or at least not one on my part. No one knows I am here. Though ambushing me violates our truce and would end badly for your side.”

“But you'd be dead,” the young man retorted.

“Would I?” questioned Hermione. “If I was, I'd be sure to take at least one of you with me. And then there's the long-term effects of breaking one's oaths.” Her cold smile sent a chill down Rabastan's spine.

He stepped forward, “Happily we don't need to find out. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger.”

“That remains to be seen. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Lestrange, you.” She nodded to each in turn. “Well, take me to your leader.”

Lucius rolled his eyes, while Rabastan chuckled lightly. Their associate stared blankly at her. “Sorry, I always wanted to say that.”

“Lord Voldemort currently resides with my family at Malfoy Manor. May I side along you, Miss Granger?” Lucius politely offered her his arm.

She took it with a small smile, “Yes, thank you.” The four vanished with a pop.

Narcissa Malfoy waited with Voldemort in his preferred study. She had thrown Bellatrix out and threatened to lock her in the dungeons if she didn't get herself under control. “I fear, my lord, you're going to have to do something about Bella.”

“She is becoming a bit of a rapid dog over this, isn't she?”

“If you'll excuse the impertinence, but her banishment from your bed until her marital obligations are met coinciding with Miss Granger's arrival seems to be evidence you desire to replace her there.” Narcissa flinched.

Voldemort chuckled, “Hardly, but Rodolphus is correct, if she wishes to be released from their vows she must do her duty.”

“Then the concern becomes that once she is free, she would hope to catch your eye.”

“Bella is aware I seek no such entanglements.”

She nodded, “As you say, my lord.”

“Thank you, Narcissa, for your concern over a smoothly running house. We cannot hope to show Miss Granger we are not evil madmen with Bella dripping insanity over the carpets. I'll find her important missions until Miss Granger is settled, then perhaps move myself elsewhere to help Bellatrix control her jealousy.”

“As my lord wishes,” She straightened her dress. “I felt the wards pulse. Lucius and the others have returned.”

“Punctual, as well as smart, a good trait.” Voldemort's smile widened. Hermione followed Lucius into the room. “Greetings, Miss Granger. Welcome to Malfoy Manor. Unless you object you will be staying here for the time being.”

“Thank you.” She returned to address the Malfoys, “Thank you for hosting me, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.”

Narcissa smiled warmly, and Lucius nodded, “Please consider our home as yours.”

“I'll try.”

“Why don't you show Miss Granger her room and let her get settled. She can send for me when she's ready to chat.”

“That would be appreciated.”

Narcissa showed Hermione to a cream-colored guest room. “Your closet is through that door and your en suite through the other. Severus mentioned your aversion to house elves,” she paused.

“My later research has shown me Dobby's desire to be free is an exception, not a rule. I do not like any mistreatment but I no longer refuse their services. Though, I do prefer to do most tasks myself.”

The older witch smiled, “Of course, Bee has been assigned to you. Call for her if you need something.”

“Bee like the insect?”

Narcissa cringed, “Her mother, Moth, named all her children similarly: Butterfly, Grasshopper, and Ant.”

“Oh my, well, good for her I suppose.”

“That was my reaction. Summon her to let Lord Voldemort know you are settled. Most dinners are informal affairs, but if you want to eat in your rooms you need only inform Bee.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy.” Once she was alone, she began unpacking. Not entirely sure of what the next few days would bring, she unpacked a few simple outfits and the things she would need that night. Exploration showed a vast walk-in closet and dressing room. She stored her luggage there. The bathroom boasted a marble soaking tub and a great shower with a bench under the spray. Between two sinks, a vanity mirror and bench beckoned. Hermione unpacked her cosmetics and hair supplies. While everything she needed to run remained in the beaded bag, she saw no reason to advertise it.

Checking her reflection she decided she looked nice enough not to offend, but not so much that she was trying to impress. She reapplied her lipstick and summoned Bee.

The small house elf bobbed, holding the edges of her pristine pillowcase toga. “Hello, miss. How's can Bee helps miss?”

“Would you notify Lord Voldemort I am available to see him?”

“Of course, miss.”

Expecting to be kept waiting, either by circumstance or, more likely, design, she settled by her fireplace with a book on ancient rites. She smiled to herself, sometimes muggles had the right of it, the old ways were the best ways. This particular copy appeared in her trunk at the beginning of 6th year, not long before the castle helped her discover the genealogy charm. It wanted her to remember what Dumbledore forced her to forget: the unending hat stall until she requested Gryffindor, her mother's Hufflepuff crest earrings, Great-great-great Grandmother Clarke's prized silver with Ravenclaw's eagle crest on the handles, and playing in the garden pretending to understand the snake that lived in the pond. She remembered his amusement at being referred to as Sir Hiss from Disney's Robin Hood cartoon. Guilty, she wondered if he was still there. She hadn't thought to check when her memories came rushing back. A firm knock interrupted her thoughts, “Enter.”

Lord Voldemort slipped into the room. His skin, no longer stark white, had regenerated his nose, making his features less horrific and more human. His appearance was now that of a handsome man in his late 40s. His eyes were still red, the only thing that had not changed from Harry's description. “All settled in?”

“Yes, thank you.” She noticed he continued to stand just inside the door. “Won't you come in? Please, have a seat.” He nodded gracefully accepting her invitation. “Would you like some refreshments?”

Interested in testing how refined her manners were he replied, “Yes, please.”

She nodded, “Bee?” She smiled when the tiny elf appeared, “Please bring us a light tea? Thank you.” She returned her attention to her host turned guest. “Did I pass?”

He chuckled, “With flying colors on several levels. But, do not think of this as testing you. I merely wish to determine your level of social graces.”

“Due to my parents' previous financial status, we've dined with royalty. I didn't humiliate anyone then.”

“Their previous status?” questioned Voldemort.

“Malcolm and Eleanor Granger are no longer listed among the living. They have no assets to speak of, I, however, am very wealthy.”

He nodded his understanding, “Narcissa has offered her assistance with any questions you might have about wizarding society.”

“Her assistance will be appreciated. Pity they don't offer anything like this at Hogwarts. But, then, how would they keep the common rabble suppressed and controllable.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm and venom.

“Professor Snape has enacted several reforms, I'll keep your suggestion in mind for the future.” He sipped his tea. “One of the changes going forward is no more homeschooling.”

“Control their education, control their futures,” she muttered.

“For the unwashed masses, yes. For the intelligent thinkers, no. But those thoughts should still be steered in a direction that benefits me.”

“Otherwise someone might decide they would be a better leader.”

“Indeed. Severus informed me it would be impossible to incorporate those already in their 6th and 7th years of home instruction. This year all OWL and NEWT level students will test together at Hogwarts, homeschooled or not. I would like to offer you this opportunity. You will be glamoured and using an alias, as no one knows that Hermione Granger has broken off her former affiliations. I suspect you would also like to keep it that way.”

“For now anyway.”

“The tests begin on the 19th. Several of my inner circle are willing to tutor you over the next week.”

“I tentatively accept.”

“Tentatively?”

“You and yours and I have not had the best history. I am rapidly discovering that no one cares about changing anything other than who is in charge. If I am uncomfortable around someone I reserve the right to remove myself from their presence. I want to be clear, I am not your prisoner. I can, and will, leave whenever I desire.”

“You are indeed free to come and go as you please.” He removed a small bracelet from his robes. “This will allow you to apparate through the wards. Only you, mind. You cannot open the gate to an invading horde.”

“No attacking with Mongolians got it.” She examined the charm, a tiny Malfoy crest created from sapphires set in platinum. “This doesn't engage me to Draco or any other Malfoy relative, does it?”

“No, to be that kind of token the intended spouse must present it and you must agree to accept the meaning behind it.”

“Good to know.”

“Once your NEWTs are completed we will begin fulfilling my end of our gamble.”

“We?”

“I collected followers who are masters of their crafts. Why restrict yourself to my personal knowledge?”

“Fair enough, I suppose. I want to be upfront with you. I will not tolerate any disrespect or bullying from your followers. I will hex them and I do not care that they cannot hex me back at your peril. I am here for what you owe me. Then I intend to leave. You lot deserve each other, you can sort this out without me.”

Voldemort nodded, “I would like to see you claim your rightful inheritances if there are any.”

She shrugged, “Sure.”

“And attempt to sway you to my way of thinking.”

“That all muggles and muggleborns should be wiped off the planet? And everyone ruled with a tyrannical iron fist? Yeah, that's not going to happen.”

“Your bloodlines have me thinking that muggleborns are not as they appear. Your revelation demands research and consideration. I am not wholly inflexible. And recent treatments have not only improved my appearance but healed the insanity that has plagued my mind.”

Again she shrugged, “We'll see.”

“All of your tutors are available at your pleasure, except Severus, he does have a school to run, as he is so quick to remind me. He will be here tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you.”

“You should find copies of all of your textbooks on your
shelves. I'll leave you to settle in.”

“Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 5 Time to Revise

By the time Snape arrived Saturday morning, Hermione had outlined a rough draft study schedule. She had Bee quizzing her on 1st year topics when he rapped sharply on her door. Bee admitted the dour headmaster. “Thank you, Bee, you may go.” She regarded her former potions professor appraisingly. “Have a seat, I believe we should clear the air, so to speak.”

Gracefully he sank into the seat across the table from her, “Agreed.”

“No more games, no more spy double talk, absolutely no more manipulation.” He nodded. “Whose side are you really on?”

“At this point? Honestly?” She nodded her head. “My own. I killed Dumbledore because he asked me to. He was already dying from the curse in his right hand, and he wanted to spare Draco. Which I agreed with. If the boy wanted to follow the Dark Lord it should not be in some ill-planned suicide mission designed to punish his father.”

“It was rather sloppy.”

“The Dark Lord took a while to mentally acclimatize. Though, damned if I know how but, Dumbledore seemed to have influenced it, or at least Draco's plans. He wanted Potter to witness his death.”

“I've yet to hear the end of how Harry was correct, Draco was a Death Eater. Be wrong once in seven years and they never let you forget. And heaven forfend you point out all the times THEY were wrong.”

“Yes, how dare you attempt to give your underage classmate the benefit of the doubt, you monster.”

“Why didn't the Order know Dumbledore was dying?”

“Some claptrap about demoralizing Potter and the others. And solidifying my position here.”

She snorted, “I doubt anyone here cares how he's out of the way, only that he is. He wanted to be remembered as a martyr, not the fool that put on a cursed item. I'm sure the other staff members welcomed your appointment with open arms and cheers.”

“Absolutely, I murdered their hero and let my master make up new curriculum.”

“What kind of changes?”

“Instead of Defense Against, Amycus Carrow teaches the Dark Arts. His sister, Alecto, teaches Muggles Studies. You would not approve of the syllabus, I fear.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“However, I have managed to curtail their worst abuses of the students.”

Changing topics she asked, “Why do you hate Harry?” She held up a hand, halting his denial. “We both know you aren't fond of him. I don't care about your answer to change your mind. I want to understand.”

Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “You are aware I attended school with the Marauders. Let us just say James Potter and Sirius Black were my Draco Malfoys and his son is his spitting image. Before you ask, you were everything I ever hoped for in a student and I could never encourage you properly without far too many questions.”

“Really?”

“Once you break yourself of the need to follow instructions to the letter you will be astounding.”

“How do you know I can?”

“I have seen your charm and transfiguration work. You have the imagination, you just need to get over your caution.”

“The only people you like exploding cauldrons are Fred and George Weasley, and maybe Seamus Finnegan.”

“I never claimed it was easy. Have we reached an accord? I admit to being a sarcastic bastard who let personal animosities blind me from professionalism.”

“And I was a know-it-all desperate to prove I belonged.”

“Was?”

“I don't give a flying fuck what anyone thinks anymore. I want the knowledge denied me by hypocritical old men and then I am leaving you all to fight this out amongst yourselves.”

“May I ask why?”

“The short answer is I refuse to be manipulated and used like I am not a person with feelings and thoughts of my own. I deserve respect and be treated with dignity.”

“You do not think the Death Eaters respect you?”

She rolled her eyes, “The last seven years suggest otherwise.”

“That was blind prejudice and not a debate for today.” He shifted, “What little some of them have learned of you during this little game has impressed them immensely. Whatever you taunted the Dark Lord with caught his attention. Just as this gives them a chance to interact with a muggleborn, it gives you the chance to get to know them.”

“While I can't support the idea of genocide, why should I care what happens to the sheep? They're just as bad as the rest. You saw the hate mail I received because a nobody mudblood dared to attend a dance with a famous pureblood. I needed to learn my place. They call me names, ignore me until they need homework help or there are dark wizards about.”

“Then forget about helping them and focus on showing the inner circle how brilliant you are.”

“My behavioral choices aside, this conversation is cutting into my Potions review time.”

“Hardly, the Dark Lord sent the Carrows on a time-consuming wild goose chase, freeing up my entire day.” He removed a folder from his robes. “These are the most common topics from the last ten years. Focus your review on them. The Malfoys have a potion lab, practice brewing the potions on that list this week. I'll evaluate them for you Saturday.”

“What will we be doing the rest of today?”

“My personal tips to better brewing.”

“Let me get a pad and a pen.” Hours later she sat back annoyed. “Why couldn't any of your classes contain stuff like this?”

“My NEWT levels did, but you had Slughorn. In the lower levels, most of your classmates had no real interest beyond passing the next test. The small handful with real interest would quickly buckle under the pressure of the masses to move on to the next topic on the exam.

A tentative know on the door saved them from an awkward silence. Hermione admitted Narcissa. “My apologies for interrupting. I just came to inquire if you intended to join us for dinner, Severus? Informal dining, no need to dress.”

“Thank you, no. I need to return to the castle for dinner. Students talk when the headmaster misses a meal.”

“Certainly, Miss Granger, dinner will be at seven. Please join us.”

“I will.”

Snape stood, “I will leave you to your revision, Miss Granger. Owl me if you have any questions. Cissa, she will need access to the potions lab.”

Narcissa beamed, “Please, treat the manor as your home. The library, gardens, labs, everything is at your disposal.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. I appreciate your hospitality.”

Before he left Snape showed her to labs and checked that the cabinets were properly stocked. Hermione reviewed the list he provided, rating the potions from longest to shortest. Selecting one of the longer ones she arranged the ingredients across the counter. She posted the instructions onto the wall in front of her with a sticking charm. As she prepped her ingredients she sensed someone enter the room. They remained by the door watching. Silently and wandlessly she cast a shield spell between them. She finished grinding the fried beetle eyes before turning to the side. “Lurking is rude.”

Rodolphus Lestrange held up his hands in surrender and stepped forward. “My apologies, I did not wish to disrupt you. That is also rude.”

“So it is,” she turned back to the cauldron.

“May I watch?”

“I suppose,” she shrugged moving on to the next step. “Not very exciting.”

He watched her work in silence for at least ten minutes before he spoke again. “Did you cast the spells that removed yourself from the pictures?”

“It was part of the memory charm I performed on my parents.” She continued working.

“Why?”

“Why was it a part, or why the charm at all?”

“Why did you erase yourself from your parents' memories?”

“To protect them.”

“Oh,” Rodolphus replied lamely.

“Oh, indeed. No one from the Order was willing to help me protect them. Harry's abusive ungrateful scum of a family, but not my innocent parents.” Her voice raised into a mocking tone, 'Hermione, they are muggles. They will be fine.' If you lot would go after the Dursley why wouldn't you go after my parents?”

“We would of, had the Dark Lord not regained a semblance of sanity sometime last year. Bella would have and Greyback. There were no plans to hunt down the Dursleys. Snape reported how they treated him, and how he would flee each summer as soon as possible. Your parents were a much bigger target.”

“That's what I said! But no one would listen. No one cared. So, as always, I took care of it.”

“Where are they now?”

“Gone.”

“Gone where?”

“They died. I sent them away to save them and lost them anyway. But at least no one can ever use us against one another. Their blood isn't on my hands.”

My sympathies, my parents also passed away young. No loss with my father, but my mother deserved better.”

“I console myself with the idea they were fulfilling their lives' dream.”
“My father crossed the wrong person and ended getting both of them cursed to death.”

“Harsh, if your mother was innocent she should have been left alone.”

“I agree, for the record, I never condoned taking family members hostage to enforce good behavior.”

“On that, we can agree.” She continued working on her potion.

“Where did you find that particular memory charm?”

“An older book on discarded magical practices. Obliviate is easier and can be used to eliminate a moment, entire things. But that's what I needed.”

“Had your side won, could you have reversed it?

After working in silence for several seconds, she admitted in a small voice, “I don't know.”

“Rather brilliant piece of magic, very impressive.”

“I gathered the complexity is part of why it fell out of common practice.” She counted stirring clockwise before changing direction to counterclockwise.

Deciding to change topics, Lestrange asked another question, “Is Potions your best subject, or a favorite?”
He hoped to lighten the mood. Her low cynical laugh suggested he failed.

“In another place and time, perhaps, but years of harassment and derision during class and from the teacher tainted the class for me. But like all know-it-all swots, I take all my studies seriously and
want to do as well as possible, so I fight through.”

“What is your favorite, then?”

She considered the answer for a moment, still working on her potion, “Either charms or transfiguration.”

“Not Defense Against the Dark Arts?” he risked teasing her.

“No, that class was a necessity not a luxury.”

“Charms aren't a necessity?”

“Charms make life easier, Defense keeps me alive. I managed twelve years without charms just fine before I knew about magic, and this last year on the run. I've employed Defense lessons for the last seven years in life and death situations.”

“Transfiguration is my favorite, in fact, if you consent, I am your tutor. And one of your dueling tutors.”

“Thank you, one can never have enough dueling practice.”

“Not extra tutoring?”

“Learning different fighting styles and spells is the essence of being able to defend yourself.”

“You're not interested in knowledge for knowledge's sake?”

“you have not fully mastered knowledge until you can apply it.”

“That explains why you weren't in Ravenclaw.”

“Pretty much, though I was a hat stall. The Sorting Hat wanted to put me everywhere. I foolishly asked for Gryffindor.”

“Why do you want the Dark Lord to teach you the dark arts?”

“Because magic is about intent. If you don't understand how it works, you can't protect against it, or reverse it.”

Magic is more than destruction and pain,” Lestrange said quietly. “Don't you find joy in it?”

“Not in a long time. Once I started school magic was just another method used to torment me. Then Dumbledore kept pressing me to learn more and more to help Harry. That man let a fourteen-year-old have a time turner to attend classes. At the time I remember feeling grateful, now I feel numb. And question what he was thinking. I was miserable and exhausted the entire year.” She stared off for a moment then shook herself. “My apologies, you are making small talk, and I am being morose.”

“Not at all, but if you're finished, for now, dinner should be beginning soon. While we aren't dressing, you might want to freshen up.”

“You are correct. Thank you, Mr. Lestrange.”

He winced, “I would prefer if you would call me Rodolphus, or just Lestrange. I know Rabastan agrees.”

“Thank you, Rodolphus,” she said hesitantly, trying the name out.

“You are most welcome, Miss Granger.” He smiled at her. She returned it when she realized he did not expect her to reciprocate permission to be informal. He stood and gestured for her to exit first.

Over the next two weeks, Hermione studied for her exams with the various tutors. Snape offered insightful critiques of her technique. Rabastan reviewed Herbology with her in the Malfoy gardens and greenhouses. Rodolphus rapidly demanded various transfigurations of objects, animals, himself, and herself. She found it hardest to allow Lucius or Antonin Dolohov to assist with Charms and Defense. Strangely, Rodolphus helped her feel comfortable with them. He encouraged her to give them the benefit of the doubt and promised to remain for the lessons if that would make her feel more confident.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six: Back to Hogwarts

Nervously, Hermione knocked on Narcissa's salon door. The blonde witch sat at her desk working on her correspondence. “Am I interrupting? I can come back. I'm interrupting, you're busy.” She started to retreat.

“No. No, darling, come in. All of this can wait. How can I help you?”

Hermione shifted her weight before surging forward into the room. She wrung her hands, “I'm not sure how to ask this, because I don't know what it is I want to ask exactly.”

The older woman took her hands and pulled her over to a sofa. “Take your time. Start at the beginning and work your way through.”

She took a deep breath, “I haven't had the time or inclination to care about my looks until very recently. I was also influenced from a young age to believe the only thing I had to offer was being smart and knowing things. That I was not attractive at all.”

“Oh, Hermione, that is simply not true. You are lovely. I'm sure your classmates didn't help the matter. Children and teenagers can be so cruel. But you went to Yule Ball with an international quidditch player. I remember Draco's ranting letters. Reading between the lines you were radiant. And from Lucius's reports, Draco wasn't the only one thinking so.” She smiled kindly.

“I remember everyone being surprised. Ginny said I cleaned up decently when I tried, pity it took so much effort.”

Narcissa looked stricken, “Having a friend say something like that must have hurt more than if an enemy had.”

“Yeah, I don't know if Ginny was ever my friend.”

“Well, here's what we're going to do, every day you will tell, or write me one good thing about your appearance.”

“Aren't we supposed to care more about what is on the inside?”

Narcissa waved her off, “Yes, yes, but we know you're intelligent and wonderful to the people you care about. We know you are brave and loyal, even to those who never earned it. We know all that. What you don't know is how beautiful you are. So, every day you will pay yourself a compliment, it doesn't have to be fancy, it can be as simple as 'my brown eyes look like melted chocolate.'”

“Every day?” she whined.

“I'll expect a daily owl while you're at Hogwarts?”

“Are you serious?”

“No, that is my late cousin, but I do intend to have you continue during your NEWTs. We're breaking down seven years of negative thoughts. We cannot afford to skip even one day. Let's hear it?”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

“Um, well, that is, I suppose my new haircut and shampoo makes my hair more manageable.”

“That's a start. I'll have Bee procure you the products Bellatrix and Sirius used when we were younger and they cared enough to make an effort. We can also go over beauty charms and products, or I can find you reading materials.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“You are most welcome, lovely girl.”

-oOoOo-

Voldemort supplied Hermione with fake credentials to use for her NEWTs. With a cheeky grin, she fastened a new charm to her bracelet and activated it. Her hair straightened into pin straight tresses, lightening to a bright blonde. Her nose changed shape and her lips pulled into a bow tie. Bellatrix snorted, “Easily erased, foolish child.” Finite Incantatem,” The smirk slid from her face when nothing changed.

“I took that into account. But thank you, Mrs. Lestrange, I appreciate your concern.” She beamed at Bellatrix's sneer of rage.

Narcissa struggled to hide her laughter, “Very impressive, Miss Granger. Your portkey is ready. Good luck. Don't forget to owl.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. I'll try.” She took the small token.

Rodolphus gave her a reassuring grin, “You'll do great. Remember to take your time, think about your answer. See you in two weeks.”

Impulsively, she lunged forward to give him a quick hug. “See you soon.” She released him and stepped back, “Portus.”

The portkey deposited her at the Hogsmeade train station. A drawn, tired looking Professor McGonagall stood with a gathering of nervous looking teenagers. She noticed Hermione's arrival. “Name, please?”

“Hermia Spartis.”

McGonagall crossed her off a list. “Welcome to Hogsmeade, Miss Spartis. We are waiting for the last home student then we will take the carriages over there to the castle.”

Hermione nodded and joined the others. Shortly, Roland Westrook arrived. McGonagall cleared her throat for attention. “If you will follow me, we will depart for the castle.” She led them over to the thestral lead carriages.

“What pulls them?” whispered a small mousy girl, obviously an OWL student.

“Thestrals,” Hermione answered without thinking.

The deputy head nodded, “Astute deduction, Miss Spartis.”

“Not really, ma'am. I can see them.”

“My condolences then.”

“Thank you, ma'am.”

After her near slip, Hermione made sure to mimic the others, looking about in mild curiosity, reminding herself Hermia had never been to the castle before. She sighed quietly, once the castle had been home, full of laughter and friends. Now, she questioned how sincere any of the friends had been, and how much laughter had been at her expense. She mentally rolled her eyes at her conceit. She doubted many of them ever thought of her at all.

McGonagall stopped them just inside the front doors. “In years past, home school students such as yourselves would have been tested at the ministry. This year they decided to test you all with the rest of the 5th and 7th-year students here at Hogwarts.”

“That must be easier for the examiners,” remarked Roland, "though horribly inconvenient for you, ma'am.”

She gave him a tight smile, “We persevere. You will be guests here for the next two weeks.” She explained the rules, curfew, and how the exams would be conducted. “The staff prepared accommodations for you, but your peers suggested you might be interested in being sorted and rooming with them.” Hermione preferred the neutral rooms, but from the buzzed whispers surrounding her, she appeared to be the sole minority. “Very well, I shall notify the Headmaster.”

Hermione groaned silently. She just wanted to get the exams over with as quickly as possible, with the least amount of hassle from the other students. Then again, no one would know she wasn't the pureblood new girl she pretended to be, so at least there was that. The sweet-looking girl next to her gave her a shy smile. “You don't want to know what house you belong to?”

Hermione shrugged, “I never really gave it much thought, honestly. I'm here to complete my education. I doubt we'll have the time to make life-long friendships.”

“That's true. And these days you never know who to make friends with.” Hermione raised an eyebrow. “You know, people who only want to be friendly because of who your family is.”

“Oh sure.”

“I'm Olive Whitehorn.”

“Nice to meet you, Olive. Hermia Spartis.”

“You have no idea who my family is do you?”

“No, sorry, I traveled overseas most of my life.”

My father started the Nimbus Broom company.”

Oh, I have heard of those. Um, I hope you enjoy flying,” Hermione remarked dryly.

Olive tittered briefly before answering, “It's okay, I suppose.”

McGonagall returned and lead them into the Great Hall. In a moment of deja vu, she leaned over and whispered to Olive, “The founders enchanted the ceiling to reflect the sky above it.”

“Amazing,” the other girl breathed back.

The twenty home school students filed down the hall between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. Hermione noticed familiar faces gawking at them. “Feels like lambs to the slaughter,” someone in the group said in a low voice. She suspected several regretted the choice to be sorted and mingle with their peers. As the sorting began she chanted her fake name in her head so she remembered to respond.

“Spartis, Hermia.” She took a seat on the stool as the Sorting Hat was lowered onto her head.

“Hello again, Miss Granger. Should I be sorting you again?”

“If you don't want to meet ravenous moth larva you should.”

“So vengeful.”

“I always have been.”

Very true. I assume your desire to hide means no Gryffindor?”

Mentally she shrugged, “Put me where I belong. It is only for two weeks regardless.”

The hat pondered for several heartbeats. “You could belong anywhere, but this time, better be RAVENCLAW!” She flashed a smile at Olive as she moved to her table. She flashed her new acquaintance a moue of pout when she was sorted into Hufflepuff moments later.

Su Li and Lisa Turpin insisted she sit between them. They questioned her endlessly until dessert appeared and she managed to change the subject to Hogwarts. Instantly, they regaled her with facts and pointed out the popular or powerful students. “Harry Potter isn't here this year. Rumors say he's trying to stop You-Know-Who,” Lisa confided in her.

“Which does mean no Granger,” Kevin Entwhistle smirked. “Ravenclaws have held all the top spots this year, not just one Gryffindor.” They all cheered themselves. Hermione gave them a tight uncomfortable smile.

“Though I miss her revision timetables. Made preparing for exams WAY easier,” Padma Patil admitted.

Knowing she had never given them to any of the students at this table, but wanting to know how they got copies, she asked, “She made you copies? That was kind of her.”

“Um, no,” Padma had the decency to look guilty, “my twin is in Gryffindor, once Granger fell asleep she would make me a copy and I would share with the others.”

“She wouldn't have shared if you asked?” Hermione questioned with fake insult on their behalves.

Su Li frowned, “Honestly, she probably would have, but it's hard to ask for something you mocked. To the person's face,” she flashed Hermione a grimace.

“Oh, well, there is that, I suppose,” Hermione replied lamely. The end of the feast saved them from further awkward discussion.

“Follow us,” Michael Corner gestured for her to join them. “The common room doors are secret. Only a Ravenclaw can show you where it is.” She numbly followed them up to a tower across the castle from Gryffindor Tower. An eagle knocker asked a riddle. Even though she knew the answer she stood silently for nearly ten minutes while they puzzled it over.

At that point, Luna Lovegood skipped up and answered it instantly. Instead of thanking her, the older students rolled their eyes and brushed past her. Hermione trailed behind them. “Thank you,” she murmured as she passed her friend.

Luna blinked, briefly surprised, then in confusion, before brightening. “You're welcome.” She made her way up to her dorm after giving Hermione a little wave.

“This way, Hermia,” called Mandy Brocklehurst.

She obediently returned her attention to the 7th years, “Who was that?”

“Looney Lovegood, she's a 6th year. Don't mind her, she's harmless.”

“Her name is Looney?”

“Her name is Luna, but she's so weird we call her Looney.”

“Oh, I see.” Hermione settled in for the night feeling even more isolated than she had before. The raw emotions after discovering Ron cheating with Harry flooded back in the familiar setting. The feelings of betrayal and misuse from others. Flitting moments of guilty after admitting their mistreatment of another didn't stop them from mistreating a housemate, their “family.” Someone they had barely known when they decided not to get to know her and began bullying. She groaned, rolled over, and willed herself to sleep. She knew she shouldn't be surprised by it, she just wished they had proved her wrong.

The exams proved to be just as difficult and exhausting as Hermione anticipated. She enjoyed not being overwhelmed by classmates demanding assistance when the panic set in. And at the Gryffindor table, there seemed to be plenty of panic. On the Saturday between exam weeks, Hermione roamed the castle. Unintentionally, her feet brought her to the Room of Requirement. She contemplated the blank wall, debating whether or not to go in.

“At a crossroads?” an airy voice asked.

She startled, turning to face the new person, “Hello.”

Luna smiled, “Hello, Hermione.”

“I'd ask how you know, but you're Luna, and that in itself is the answer.”

The blonde grinned, “Now that you know the truth, can I see what the castle showed you?”

Not even bothering to ask how the other girl knew, she answered, “Why not?” Hermione paced asking for the truth Hogwarts had shown her the previous year. The door appeared. “Luna, I've always wanted to ask, do you have the Sight?”

“Not prophecy, or anything, but I know things.”

Hermione pulled open the door, “Come on in.”

“Why thank you.” She walked into the room, followed by Hermione.

“Have your shoes reappeared, yet?”

“No, but they will.”

“That doesn't make it right,” Hermione snapped. Luna shrugged. Hermione let the matter drop.

As they crossed the room to the wall covered in tapestries, Luna remarked, “Very clever naming yourself as a daughter of Sparta, Helen's daughter.”

“Glad you approve.”

“You're just happy someone caught it.”

“That, too.”

Hanging on the wall five tapestries swayed slightly in the air current. Luna ran her hand over them. “Red and gold for Gryffindor, extinct through all cadet branches, one descendant. Ravenclaw, blue and bronze, extinct through all cadet lines, two descendants.” She looked at Hermione.

“A 93-year-old spinster in Albania.”

Luna nodded and skipped over the largest tapestry, to the yellow and black one, “Hufflepuff, extinct in all cadet branches, one descendant. Green and silver for Slytherin, one descendant in the cadet branch, two descendants. That would be you and Voldemort.”

“Correct.”

Luna returned the tapestry. The school crest sat on a field of black. Offspring of each founder were embroidered in red, blue, yellow, and green. When a child of more than one founder occurred the colors alternated. At the bottom, red and green letters formed Malcolm Nigel Granger, while yellow and blue letters created Eleanor Jean Banks. Hermione's name shone in all four colors. “Your dad came from Godric and Salazar.”

“A fact that amuses me endlessly.” She addressed the room at large. “May I have a copy for myself, please?” A new smaller tapestry appeared, detailing her heritage. On it were lines leading back to Merlin and Circe, as well as the Founders.

“Wow, Hermione, you come from really powerful wizards.” Hermione nodded in response as she placed the banner in her beaded bag. “Do you know which road you are going to choose?” Luna asked in a small voice.

“I respect you enough to be honest,” she sighed. “I don't know. All I know is I'm tired of feeling manipulated and used. The supposed paragons of light repressed my knowledge of who my ancestors might have been, keeping me a nobody. They treated me like a puppet. When people mention Hermione Granger they sneer and laugh, while admitting they have, and would again, abuse my willingness to help others learn. A willingness I'm not even sure was my own originally. I've yet to hear anyone defend me, or even really speak well of me.” She hugged herself, “I don't agree with all the atrocities committed by the Death Eaters, or accept all their philosophies.” She started towards the door. “Right now I want a practical education so I can defend myself.”

“Do you trust he will let you leave?”

She showed her the charm on her necklace, “I can leave anytime I want, emergency portkey.” She fiddled with the charm while in thought, “Choosing not to choose is, in fact, a choice.”

“True. Though, you've been out of contact most of the year. After Dumbledore died something changed. There is still fighting and attacks on the opposition, but not as much senseless violence. Professor Snape has kept the Carrows from outright torture. And while the Ministry kept the confiscated wands of muggleborns, they were returned to their homes in March. No more registration or questioning.”

“That's nice, I suppose. I just feel numb, Luna. I can't forget, and I don't know if I want to forgive.”

“And both sides want you.” Luna took her hand to stop her progress. “Soon you won't feel nothing anymore. Your passion will come back, and when it does, I'll be there.”

“What?”

Luna squeezed her hand, “Even when you didn't believe me, you never belittled me. And you've been standing up for me this whole week. Tomorrow you'll mention my lack of shoes and express disappointment at the theft. I choose you.”

Hermione's eyes teared up, “Even if I choose dark?”

“Even if you decide to overthrow Voldemort and burn down the world.”

“Ambitious, aren't you?” Hermione laughed, “Thank you, Luna. C'mon, we need to get back.”

Sunday morning Luna skipped down to the common in the most garish socks Hermione had ever seen, Dumbledore would have been envious. Before Hermione could say anything, Roland spoke up, “Good gracious, girl, where are your shoes?”

Luna shrugged, “They like to wander away, they always come back before the end of the term.”

“They wander away?” he looked puzzled, trying to remember if this was a Hogwart's phenomenon.

Hermione stepped next to him, “She means her dorm mates steal things but return them before her parents can report them missing. She's just too polite to say anything in front of them.”

His face fell in dismay, “How horrible.”

“Indeed.” She turned to Luna, “Join us at breakfast, won't you?”

“Oh, yes, do.” Roland brightened, offering Luna his arm. During the remaining week, he made sure to protect and encourage Luna, much to her delight and Hermione's amusement.

Finishing the last question, Hermione proofread her answers to the Ancient Runes exam. Her last NEWT, her last question, the end of her formal education. She stretched and laid her quill down. A bit bittersweet, really, no proud parents waiting to congratulate her, no ceremony to announce her accomplishments. Another sacrifice for the light no one would ever acknowledge or apologize for. She watched the proctor summon the folders. She followed the rest of the home-schooled students out of the castle and down to the village. Not formally enrolled at the school, they had no reason to remain after the testing completed. Headmaster Snape accompanied them to the village. “May I congratulate you on a job well done completing your final exams. The results will be tabulated and sent to you over the summer months. Those of you capable of doing so may apparate home now. The floos at the Three Broomsticks are available for the rest of you.” He nodded to them and apparated back to the castle.

Most of the others headed towards the floos. Hermione elected to say her farewells and apparate back to Malfoy Manor. Bee welcomed her back, informing her the Malfoys were away, but Bee was to inform the Master's lord that she had returned. Voldemort sent a note welcoming her back and promising to send a tutor the next day. She shrugged and head up to her room to unpack and relax with a long soak in her sinfully delicious tub.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: Finding an Old Friend

As Hermione finished her formal education, Voldemort gathered his followers to organize her informal education. Each of her tutors eagerly agreed to continue her education in whatever direction she wished to go in. A few others expressed interest in being added. “If she's amendable, I would like to discuss any other techniques she may have discovered,” admitted Corbin Yaxley.

Voldemort nodded before turning his attention to Narcissa, “Do you have a plan for your area?”

“I thought it best to assess her base knowledge, then offer to fill in the gaps.” She frowned, “I confess, I am worried about social interactions with her peers. Those bridges will take some time to rebuild.”

Bellatrix scoffed, “Tell them to make friendly, or else.”

Crabbe, Sr. laughed, “Said by someone who hasn't interacted with teenagers since she was one. That will only cause them to dig in their heels.”

“And when Granger finds out it was all forced everything falls apart.” Lucius agreed.

Rabastan looked thoughtful, “I know she can hex them, and they can't hex her, but that doesn't stop them from talking. She'll need someplace most of them can't follow.”

“What about Lestrange Hall?” Rodolphus suggested. “Miss Granger revised there numerous times, so she has access to the wards, but none of her peers do. Knowing she has a haven might help her deal.”

“There were several at the meeting you held earlier that were neutral opinions,” offered Rabastan. “They could be encouraged to make contact.”

“Graduation isn't for a few more weeks. Some friendlier faces will help with larger social gatherings as we introduce her to society.” Narcissa considered the possibilities.

“I'll contact one or two, perhaps make things seem organic.” Rabastan offered, “Maybe have them over at the Hall. She'll be more comfortable, they won't.”

-oOoOo-

The moment he learned Hermione had returned from Hogwarts, Rodolphus hurried to welcome her. He invited her to join him for dinner. She countered and invited him to join her for dinner, as she had already sent Bee after a plate.

“Lord Voldemort made arrangements for your tutors, I'll let him go over that with you. Rabastan and I want you to know you are welcome at Lestrange Hall whenever you want. The wards are set to recognize you, so you can floo or apparate.”

“That's very kind of you, thank him and Mrs. Lestrange for me.”

“I feel I should warn you, the Dark Lord deeply wishes for you to remain with us in the wizarding world. He will want you to try to socialize,”

She shrugged, “My original letter was meant to tempt him.”

“But your plans haven't changed?”

She studied him before answering. He waited patiently, genuine concern on his face, “Honestly?”

“Yes, please.”

“No, they haven't. Right now I feel rather apathetic towards most witches and wizards. People who only know me by reputation were harsh in their judgment. Adults sent a 14-year-old hate mail in the form of howlers and harmful booby traps for going to a school dance with a minor celebrity- because of my blood status! And then an adult reporter smeared my reputation as some kind of gold digging slag. And more hate mail came. People I thought were at least friendly towards me laughed at jokes at my expense. No attempts were made to defend me in my absence. Happily, I was spared the comments made by your lot.”

“That is part of why you will have access to Lestrange Hall. You are always welcome. Only those you want will have unfettered access.” She smiled at him and let him change the subject back to her NEWTs as they finished eating. She bemoaned the slew of wrong or incomplete answers she had used, sure she had barely passed all of them.

Bright and early the next morning, Voldemort invited Hermione to join him for breakfast in his study. “Ah, good morning, my dear. Please, have a seat.” He noted how she spread her napkin and her polite table manners as the house elves served. “All of your tutors are wish to continue. And Corbin Yaxley wishes to discuss the spell you used with your parents and anything else you've rediscovered.”

“I'm sure we will have numerous engaging conversations.”

“They will be contacting you to arrange a schedule, one that you are under no obligation to keep should you wish to do something else that day.”

“Thank you.”

“My followers, and soon their school age children have been told you are off-limits, but they are not. You may react to disrespect in any manner you see fit..”

“That is generous of you.”

“Had that fool not used you as a common pawn in his game of chess you would have been celebrated and treated with your due from the beginning.”

“It does support the idea muggleborns don't steal magic, they are descended from squibs.”

“It does. And I shall be contemplating how to deal with the matter before expressing it to my more militant followers.”

“When do you plan on revealing my true identity?”

“I do not know. I've considered several different ideas, but fear tipping my hand too soon. Also, I'd like for you to be acknowledged for your brilliance before anyone knows your bloodlines.”

“There will always be people who believe my bloodlines are the only reason I am capable of anything. It takes all six of them.”

“Very true.”

“Am I restricted from telling anyone?”

“I would prefer to not have it blurted out to any and all in a moment of temper, but it is your identity, I cannot ask my followers to be open books for you, then demand you keep secrets from them.

“Very well, I won't rub Malfoy's nose in it immediately.”

“Most appreciated. Full disclosure: I would very much like for you to join my ranks, but nothing will be forced upon you. And, I promise, anyone approaching you in friendship does so of their own free will. Though, they, too, share my goals related to your membership.”

“I appreciate your candor. I recently made a promise to myself to try not to become the bitter old lady living alone because she pushed everyone away.”

“A worthy goal indeed.”

-oOoOo-

Marcus frowned at his father when he handed him an opened missive, “Is there a reason you've started reading my post?”

“I had to wonder why a quidditch player would receive an invitation to Lestrange Hall?”

“I have no clue. Didn't the letter say?”

“No,” his father's curt reply indicated his level of annoyance.

Marcus read the letter, “Rabastan wants to discuss some important manner for the Dark Lord.”

“I doubt it is anything useful like stopping this sports nonsense and taking the Mark like a proper wizard.”

Ignoring the digs, Marcus looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. “I won't know until I meet with Lestrange.” He penned a reply and went to shower and change his clothes.

A pillowcase clad house elf greeted him, “Master Rabby asks you waits for him in the study.”

“I'd be delighted.”

“This ways.” The elf escorted him to a small study on the ground floor.

Marcus examined the multi-level terraced lawn showcased by the large windows. The topiary shapes accented the slopes. A line of trees marked the start of the orchards. A voice startled him, “My grandmother loved gardening. She designed most of the landscaping. You should see the rose gardens.” Marcus turned to find Rabastan watching him from the doorway.

“It's lovely.”

“Have a seat, Flint.” The larger man complied. “Thank you for coming so soon. Forgive the cryptic nature of my letter, but this topic is delicate in nature.”

“You can count on my discretion.”

“Good man, Do you remember the gathering at Malfoy Manor a couple of months ago?”

“The Dark Lord wanted to know about Granger. My father told me he's declared her off-limits.”

“Correct, Miss Granger has become a mystery wrapped in an enigma. Several members of the Inner Circle are tutoring her in dark magic. Right now she claims neutrality, but the Dark Lord wishes to charm her to our side of the conflict.”

“Tall order, that, our side hasn't exactly been kind.”

“He knows. You, along with others, were noted to have neutral, or in your case, mildly affectionate feelings. Miss Granger is staying at Malfoy Manor and has full access to come here. Lord Voldemort desires that you reconnect with her and facilitate new friendships.”

“Who was neutral?”

“A few of your friends: Warrington, Boles, Montague, a homeschooled witch, Vanessa Avery, and a witch who attended Beaubatons, Alexandra Casteen.”

Marcus shifted uncomfortably, “I'll be honest, I'm not the smoothest bloke, Boles or Montague are more charming.”

“Yes, but you had at least a year of positive interactions. Interactions she ended. You never had a falling out, correct?”

“Yeah, she started avoiding me. So, you want me to break the ice to get her willing to meet the rest?”

“Exactly, no one has to force anything, just keep open minds.”

I assume you have some ideas on how to arrange the initial interaction.”
“Anyone who knows your father will agree he despises your profession while insisting you live at home so he can enjoy your paychecks. You'll be working with me to improve your dueling skills to get him off your back.”

“And she'll be here delving into the dark arts with your brother.”

“Precisely, Mr. Flint.”

“If you're going to be kicking my arse on the regular, please, call me Marcus.”

“Rabastan, or Rab, then.” He stood, “I will send you a copy of her schedule.”

“Sounds good.” They shook hands.

-oOoOo-

Snape sent a note congratulating her on completing her exams and a suggested reading list for furthering her potions knowledge while he was still occupied with the end of school tasks. Her lessons with Dolohov still occurred with Rodolphus present, though she now felt comfortable meeting with Lucius one on one for charms. “Charms classified as dark magic are those geared towards manipulation,”
he admitted to her.

“Why are these spells considered dark and love potions aren't?”

“Love potions are notoriously more difficult to make and easier to identify. Not that these charms are simple. But they do have the potential to be built on. It takes a very strong will, and often direct evidence to the contrary to break.”

“Like a physical item jogging a memory?”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah, good chance Dumbledore used those,” she didn't even try to mask the anger and bitterness in her tone.

“Pity they are so hard to detect until after they are broken,” he mused.

“How does one protect against them?”

“Occulmency shields, like the ones you already possess. Even if anyone here was inclined to, I doubt any of us are strong enough to enslave you. Not that these are commonly known spells anyway.”

“They would also have a high addiction rate. Instead of cultivating people, just slip in and compel them to obey.”

“You are correct.” He considered her for a moment, “Though, I imagine the sense of betrayal is rather intense once the spell breaks.”

“I presume it would be.” Then she changed the subject. “Do you suppose Mrs. Malfoy would object if I procured a familiar? I left my previous one with the Weasleys, and even if he is still there and alive, I doubt you will be able to retrieve him for me.”

“I am sure she won't mind.”

“Thank you.”

“I believe she is expecting you for tea,” he smiled.

“Will you be joining us?”

“No, I have a few errands to run this afternoon. Until next time, Miss Granger.”

Hermione remembered formal teas with her grandmother. Vivian Granger demanded perfection, as it was the only way, in her mind, to keep the gossips at bay. Ingrained etiquette lessons caused her to detour to her room and dress appropriately. When she entered the parlor she noticed Narcissa wore the same clothes as she had at breakfast, but she had been dressed for tea that morning. Trying not to feel like a performing monkey, as she had in childhood, Hermione spread the napkin across her lap and began the dance that was afternoon tea.

“Milk?” Narcissa offered.

“No, thank you.” Accepting the teacup and saucer, Hermione added one lump of sugar. She moved the spoon back and forth without touching the sides of the cup. Gently she placed the utensil on the saucer. Letting her tea cool, she selected a finger sandwich to nibble on. She settled in for banal idle conversation with her hostess. Once sufficiently cooled, she sipped her tea, making sure to drop her eyes correctly when sipping. Deciding to use the Devon method, she tore a scone in half, applied the clotted cream then the jam. She took delicate bites from the halves.

“Biscuit, Miss Granger?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. I admit to not having much of a sweet tooth, but I prefer the petite fours.” She selected one of the fancy iced cakes, eating it in three bites. “Simply divine.”

“You aren't fond of sweets? I still have to watch Draco or he'll eat the entire platter.”

“My parents were dentists. They didn't approve of sweets, let alone excessively sugary ones.”

“Dentists?”

“Teeth healers.”

“Ah, are they still dentists?”

“No, they passed away.”

Narcissa looked alarmed, “Oh.”

“They decided they wanted to follow their passion and help people in poverty stricken areas. Unfortunately, those are also dangerous areas.”

“My condolences.”

“Thank you.” Hermione finished her tea. “And thank you for a lovely afternoon.”

“You are most welcome. Thank you for joining me,” Narcissa beamed.

“I assume I passed your test?” she asked in a teasing manner.

Narcissa stared stunned for a moment, then let out a laugh, “With flying colors. And I wasn't testing you per se, more getting a baseline for your knowledge.”

“I was taught etiquette from a very young age. I am also an accomplished dancer.”

The older woman nodded, “I would still like to offer tea and instruction on wizard social norms you might not know.”

“Why?”

“One, I thoroughly enjoyed myself this afternoon. Two, I don't want our society to lose a brilliant witch. Three, I do not want anyone trapping you, or manipulating you.”

“Very well, next Wednesday work for you?” This began a weekly standing tea filled with friendly talk and laughter.

“Splendid.” Hermione began to leave the room. “Will you be joining us for dinner?”

“I'm not sure, I'm off to find an old friend and possibly a familiar.”

“Well, happy hunting.” Hermione nodded and left the manor.

Landing in the backyard of her childhood home, she looked around. Her father had just restored the garden pond when six-year-old Hermione made friends with Sir Hiss. Her mother had helped her look up her new friend, discovering he was a rainbow snake from Florida. Given his rarity and protected status in America, the Grangers said he could stay so long as he behaved and kept the frog population in check. She smiled sadly remembering the indulgent looks when Hermione solemnly promised her friend would be a gentleman. She made her way to his garden pond, trying to keep her hopes at bay. She hadn't seen the snake for seven years. He might have moved on. “Sir Hiss, are you here?” She heard a soft scrap, then saw the long grass twitch.

“Hiss, little witch, you remembered on this return.” The black and brightly colored snake poked into view. “I thought you had forgotten me.”

“I did. A bad wizard hid all my memories of you.”

“And you have freed yourself.”

“And returned to find you,” she paused, “we're speaking your language aren't we?”

“We always have, little witch. The bad wizard must have blocked your ability, too.”

“Well, he's gone and if you'd like, you can come with me.”

“Like the cat did?”

“Exactly like Crookshanks did.”

“I would like that very much.” The long brightly colored snake raised up. Hermione picked up her friend, his cool smooth skin glided across hers. She smiled fondly at his shining scales, the rainbow sheen gleaming.

“Off to our temporary home.” Sir Hiss twined around her firmly. She lowered him to the floor.

He inspected her room, “Another dwells here. I will make this area mine, but would prefer to hunt elsewhere.”

“I can take you back to the house, or Lestrange Hall. I'll ask Rodolphus.” Hermione summoned Bee. “Bee, this is my friend, Sir Hiss. He may occasionally need your help going out onto the balcony, please.”

“Of course, Missy Hermy.”

“Thank you.” Remembering her promise to be more social, Hermione asked the house elf to ensure her purple sundress was wrinkle free. Leaving Sir Hiss to explore the balcony, she took a quick shower. Bee lingered, looking for eager to help, that Hermione let her arrange her hair. After a quick application of cosmetics, she headed downstairs for dinner.

She returned the smiles of the smattering of gathered Death Eaters. She nodded to Rodolphus when he held out her chair.

“Did you manage to find your friend, Miss Granger?” Narcissa inquired as they began to eat.

“I did, thank you for asking.”

“Will you familiar be requiring anything?” asked Lucius.

“No, I have everything Sir Hiss needs right now.

“Sir Hiss?” questioned Yaxley.

“Yes,” Hermione nodded, “my childhood pet rainbow snake. He wasn't on the approved pets list so Mum made me leave him at home.”

“After dinner, please bring Sir Hiss to my study. Nagini will want to make friends.”

“Certainly.”

Rodolphus grinned at her, “Sir Hiss?” his tone was teasing.

“When we found him in the garden I had just watched the animated Robin Hood. One of King John's advisors was a boa constrictor named Sir Hiss. At six I had no idea the snake in my yard wouldn't become the snake from the telly.”

“Animated? Telly?” spat Bellatrix. “Muggle trash.”

“Well, yes, Mrs. Lestrange, I grew up in the muggle world. Things from my childhood would be muggle things. I don't outright despise them, because I don't fear them.”

“Are you suggesting the muggle world is superior?” asked Thoros Nott, his tone more conversational than confrontational.

“No, just different. Things that work out there would never work in here and vice versa. There are only two areas where they are superior, in my opinion. But that is easily remedied.”

“Oh?” Nott gestured for her to continue.

“Food varieties and entertainment. Muggles have more than music and one sport. They have numerous sports, which they televise. They have television and movies. Ten minutes in any direction from my house in London I can find a restaurant offering a dish from anywhere in the world. But this is a discussion for another time.” She dimpled at Narcissa, “The soup is amazing.”

After dinner, Hermione collected Sir Hiss, “Voldemort wants to introduce us to his familiar, Nagini.”

“The other.”

“Yes,” she knocked on the study door before entering. “Ah, Miss Granger,” he changed to parseltongue, “and Sir Hiss.”

Nagini eyed the smaller snake, “You are pledged yourself to the witch?”

“Before she even knew to ask.”

“You may share my territory.”

“I am honored.”

Voldemort watched Hermione, “The matter is settled.”

“So it would seem.” She addressed Nagini, “Thank you for your generosity.”

The larger snake regarded her for a moment, “You speak. That is good. I will visit you.”

“As you will.” Hermione returned her attention to the dark wizard.

“Did Dumbledore know you were a parseltongue?”

“I honestly don't know. I made a copy of my lineage. You and I both descend down separate paths. One generation had two brothers, Mordred and Kellan Slytherin. Both had daughters. Boudicca married into the Gaunts and eventually leads to you. Fionnula married a Peverell. And through liaisons and marriages lead to me. That's the way I connect to all the Founders.”

“And the other famous wizards?”

“Yes. To the best of my knowledge, none of the others had rare genetic abilities.”

“I wish to be frank, Miss Granger, I am not a good man. I have more than dabbled with the dark magics. I want immortality and power. One I have achieved, how can I convince you to help me gain the others?”

“I promise nothing, I haven't met enough for your followers for that, but stopping the threat of genocide and violence against muggleborn and muggles would help.”

“I will consider it.”

“Prove to me you will not become a megalomaniacal despot like Stalin or Hitler. Let me assure myself there is not Himmler, Mengele, or Koch among them. Prove your side is better than the Order.” She looked up at him with blank eyes, “Make me care.”

He gave her a speculative look and nodded, “Fair enough. You have given me much to think about. Good night, Miss Granger.”

“Good night, cousin,” she grinned cheekily at his raised eyebrow.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: The Meet Cute?

On his next day off, Marcus received a note from Lestrange telling him Granger was unexpectedly there debating magical theory with his brother and Yaxley. He changed into workout clothes and hurried over. Lestrange admitted him with an odd look. “Dueling is just a cover story.”

“Sure, but Granger will see through it if I don't dress and look like I've been working hard. And several people consider you and your brother top duelers. I would like pointers. Just don't work me into the ground, or I can't be sociable.”

“Fair enough.” Forty minutes later sweat trickled down his forehead and Marcus huffed. “Is this what you had in mind?”

“Pretty much.”

“Good. Clean yourself up, Yaxley just left, she's alone in the library.”

A scorify later Marcus stood watching her read from the doorway. The years had been good to her. At fifteen entering Yule Ball, she had been beautiful. Now, she was breathtaking. Suddenly he didn't want to introduce her to Montague or Pucey. Both pretty boys were closer to her age and suave. “Can I help you with something, or did you come to gawk, Mr. Flint?” she asked without looking up.

“I admit the view is stunning, but I did come to speak with you.”

“The ordered charm offensive has begun,” she quipped.

“Huh?” he looked confused.

“You weren't told to come be charming and win me over?” she looked skeptical.

“Look, Granger, I got my teeth fixed and grew into my features, but no one is going to accuse me of being charming.”

“No one ordered you here, or strongly suggested you come?”

“Nope, Rab told me you were here. Said if I couldn't be civil to stay away. Apparently, he likes you more than me.”

“Then why are you here?”

“My dueling skills aren't the sharpest. Rab is giving me pointers. At least that's what he says he's doing.”

“He isn't helping?”

“Oh, he is. He also trounces me. Every. Time.”

“That explains your presence at the Hall, why are you in the library?”

“Because you are.” He crossed over to her and sat across the table from her. “I've wanted to thank you for years. You didn't have to help me all those years ago. And you really did. So, thank you. And I apologize for Draco's lack of manners.”

“You don't have to apologize for Malfoy.”

“I could have defended you.”

“I understood why you didn't, and couldn't.”

“Still, I appreciated the help.”

“You're welcome.” She settled back in her chair. “If we're going to assume we're old acquaintances, how have you been?”

“Decent. I still play for Falmouth, three years now.”

“Wife? Girlfriend? Little Flints running around?”

“Why you offering?” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“No, we've only reconnected. I'm flying through the banal chit-chat.”

“In that case, no wife, no girlfriend, quidditch keeps me busy, and other duties,” he trailed off.

“Yet, you remain unmarked.”

“The League won't allow players to get tattoos of any kind. And the Dark Lord wishes for me to continue playing.”

“And you're okay with not being marked?”

“He says we wait, so we wait.”

“Pragmatic of you.”

“So, what about you? Boyfriend? Pets? I assumed you wouldn't leave a child behind.”

“No boyfriend anymore. And I have a familiar, Sir Hiss.”

“What happened to your cat?”

“I left him with the Weasleys, I assume they set him out by now and he's either deceased on enjoying the feral life.”

“Cynical of you to assume they abandoned your familiar after a few months.”

“I've learned to expect the worst from people.”

“You and the youngest Weasel were attached at the hips. I always thought he fancied you myself.”

“Keeping tabs on me?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Apparently I did. Who knew?”

She laughed, “I don't think I'm offended. I'll let you know if that changes.”

“Thanks, I'll need the head start.” She raised an eyebrow. “I'm here for dueling help. Rab mentioned how more skilled his other pupil is.” She looked at him blankly. “He meant you.”

“Ouch,” she winced, “ranked worse than a school dropout and a Gryffindor.”

“I never seriously bought the school rivalry. Gryffindors can be kind, Hufflepuffs can be cruel, Ravenclaws can be brave, and Slytherins can be smart. My mate, Peregrine Boles heard from Yaxley about your glamours items. He's excited to pick your brain.”
“What about blood status?”

“I admit without the Dark Lord vouching for you, most of them would be more standoffish. But Lord Voldemort wishing to associate with you means the rest of us can follow.” He gave her a crooked smile.

She frowned, “What do you want from me?” she asked bluntly.

“Before I walked in here? To thank you and renew your acquaintance.”

“And now?”

“Thank you, renew your acquaintance, and see if you share my spark of interest.”

She tried vainly not to blush, which he enjoyed immensely. “We'll see what happens.”

“Fair enough. Can I give Peregrine the hope of any kind of contact any time soon?”

“Let's see if you can stand me in a few weeks.”

He chuckled, “Okay.” He rolled his eyes, “Would you like to arrange another meeting, or hope the universe brings you back to me?”

“Do you want to?” Hermione cringed at the nervous waver to her voice.

“Fuck yes.” She looked surprised. “Why are you surprised? Everyone who has met you raves about you, making anyone who hasn't, want to.”

“Um, Rodolphus and I are going to start looking at transfiguration curses Friday. We could meet here for a while.”

“I finish practice around five.”

“Perfect.”

“It's a date.” He grinned when she flushed with pleasure at his wording. “I look forward to Friday.” Giving in to an impulse, he took her hand like he watched Adrian and Graham do so often. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. “Until then.”

She nodded, “Until then.” She watched him exit the library. After staring at the book in front of her for five minutes in a stunned fog, she closed the book and made her way back to her room at Malfoy Manor.

Sir Hiss greeted her, “Have a good day?”

“I suppose, it was confusing at the very least. I hadn't been friendly with Flint in years, for lots of reasons. But today, he flirted with me. I think I liked it. I might even flirt back next time. Not that I have much experience.”

Sir Hiss regarded her from his place coiled on the bedspread, “Human companionship does seem important. Nagini mentioned it.”

“So glad you have someone to gossip with.”

“It is nice.”

“Is that your way of expressing disapproval with my plan to seclude us on a private island?”

“You mean run away?”

“Not my fight anymore. And while they betrayed me, I don't think I could fight against my former friends, at least some of them.”

“Even if you discovered they hated you?”

“I don't think I care enough. But that's a dilemma for later. The Death Eaters are behaving for now. In a few months, they might change their tune.”

“And if they do not?”

“A bridge we cross then,” she retorted ending the discussion.

Two days later, Friday evening, Hermione sat in the Lestrange library reading, trying to pretend she wasn't watching the clock. The history book in her hands discussed traditions that had fallen out of use. She skimmed surrogacy bonds and blood adoptions, in favor of moving onto inheritance customs.

Marcus watched her nibble on her bottom lip as she struggled to concentrate, “Knock, knock.” He had contemplated coming straight from practice but decided it might send the wrong message. No matter how tempting the idea of seeing her reaction to his uniform might be. He rapped his knuckles against the door frame to get her attention as he spoke. He smiled at her noting the flash of relief on her face. “Am I interrupting? I can wait.”

“No, this is a bit of light reading.”

“If this is light reading, what does heavy reading look like?”

“Cramped handwritten pages with fading ink.”

“That would be heavy.” He sat next to her on the sofa.

Hermione noticed how solid Marcus felt sitting next to her. Everything about him seemed large. She felt her body tingle everywhere his body made contact with hers. She felt the room warm. “Are you meeting Rabastan today?”

“Nope, I'm all yours.”

“All mine?”

“Just have to return me in a pristine state by 10 pm on Sunday. Quidditch players in training have bedtimes.”

“You must take training seriously,” she said thinking of late night common room gatherings.

“Very.”

“That's refreshing.”

“Have you had dinner?” he asked changing the subject.

“Not yet, are you hungry?”

Marcus chuckled, “After practice? Usually. What are you in the mood for?”
“Well, our options are pretty slim, ask Flint elves or ask Malfoy elves.”

“Short leash?”

“No, but everyone still thinks I'm off with Ron and Harry. I'm still officially Public Enemy #2. Oh, Merlin did that chap Ron's arse. Not #1, obviously, but not even #2.”

“He's a pureblood. Mudblood trumps blood traitor any day. He's lucky he's that high.”

“Only because he would lead them straight to Harry. And Harry would do anything to save him.”

“Sorry about the m-word,” he looked embarrassed.

Hermione waved him off, “That word lost its power years ago. Back to your question, I'm only limited by the fact that I dislike the idea of not going out as myself.”

“I understand. You give your good-byes while I collect takeaway from the Leaky. Then we'll pop over to Flint Tower unless you would be more comfortable at the Manor.”

“Counter suggestion, I pop us into Muggle London, we grab takeaway, then you pop us to Flint Tower. Still give us privacy and unchaperoned feel, which is what I assume you were going for.”

“Sounds perfect. Am I dressed okay?”

“For fifteen minutes collecting food? You should be fine.”

He stood and offered her his arm, “Shall we?”

“What kind of food do you like? Any allergies?”

“No allergies. I'll eat just about anything.”

After a brief internal debate, Hermione decided to introduce Marcus to pizza. It would be the least amount of culture shock. Taking his arm, she apparated to an
alley and lead the way to her parents' favorite pizzeria. Suspecting Marcus ate as much as a male Weasley she ordered one large with everything except anchovies, one large pepperoni, and one large cheese, as a safety in case he hated all the toppings. “Okay, they should be ready in about 20 minutes.” she pointed to a corner table at the far end of the half full dining room. “We'll be over there,” she told the counter worker.

Once they were seated Marcus looked curiously, “What was that card you just used?”

“A debit card, it links to my bank account, that way I don't have to carry around huge bags of money.”

“Like a checkbook from Gringotts?”

“I have one of those for the muggle bank. More like a tab shops send directly to the bank monthly.”

“The food smells amazing. What are we having?”

“Pizza: a bread crust, tomato sauce, cheese, and toppings.”

“Mmmm, maybe not everything muggle is bad.”

“It isn't, but we are better off staying separate.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Do tell?”

“Most muggles wouldn't hurt us, but some would. Some would expect us to fix everything and be angry when we couldn't. And some wizards would take advantage of muggles, or abuse them,” she sighed. “It would help the wizarding world did a better job welcoming muggleborns. The last magic in our families had been generations ago. We know nothing.”

“Muggleborns have magical ancestors?”

“Usually generations past, but yes. They descend from squibs.”

“Do you know yours?”

“Yes.” He started to say something but the counter clerk waved a stack of pizza boxes at her. “Maybe someday I'll show you. Don't worry, no Flints on there.” Taking a deep breath for courage, she rolled her hips as she walked to the counter. When she glanced back over her shoulder, Marcus stared, his mouth agape, surprised, but appreciative.

Two and a half pizzas later, they reclined on Marcus's enormous bed, the remnants of dinner between them. “You are teaching the house elves how to make those. They love learning new recipes, and I love pizza.”

“I don't know many house elves. Are yours happy with you?”

“Their magic comes from having families, or large groups, to take care of. Yeah, some people are arseholes to them, but most elves are happy.” She smiled. “Alright, my turn for questions. Why did you leave Potter and Weasley?”

The smile slid from her face. She took a deep breath and blinked back her tears. “Um... I don't...uh, that is,” she hugged herself tightly, looking down at her lap.

Ignoring the pizza boxes, Marcus leaned across and took her hand. “Hey, look at me.” Once she raised her head, he continued, “You don't have to talk about it right now. You don't have to answer anything you don't want to. Someday, when if you do, I'll know it is because you wanted to tell me.” She nodded. “So, less heavy question, what is Bellatrix in a hissy about?”

Hermione chuckled, “Before his disappearance and her incarceration, Bellatrix and Lord Voldemort were lovers. When Voldemort declined to offer for her, the Blacks married her to Rodolphus. They've always disliked one another, so he didn't much care where she spent most of her nights. The Lestranges added a clause that they could divorce as soon as Bellatrix produces an heir, or at least they can go their separate ways.”

“They lost a lot of childbearing years to Azkaban.”

“Exactly, Rodolphus forbade her to step out of the marital bonds until she produces said heir. Any time she complains, or rages, he reminders her all she has to do is fulfill her end of the martial agreement.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Rodolphus told me,” she giggled. “Darling Bella also hates how much time I spend with her lover and her husband. She suspects she's been replaced somewhere, but she's not sure where.”

Marcus felt his stomach drop at the idea of either of the older wizards having claimed the younger witch's affections that way. “Are you?” he asked harsher than he intended. Internally he winced.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. She cocked her head to the side, observing him, “Are you jealous, Mr. Flint?” her tone teasing.

“And if I am, Miss Granger?”

“You don't need to be. I admit to being fond of Roddy, but not that way. And I am ambivalent about your dark lord. And, I am rather fond of you. Fond enough that I think you should start calling me Hermione.”

“Only if you call me Marcus.” By the end of the night, Marcus was well on his way to completely smitten. During the witty repartee and easy conversation she never made him feel dumb. She laughed at his jokes, made some of her own. As the evening lengthened they ended laying side by side, heads on the same pillow, atop his quilt. Marcus admitted he felt like a disappointment to his father, but he refused to give up a job he loved until he absolutely had to. Hermione matched his admission by admitting she felt her parents sometimes wished she hadn't been a witch, that balancing both worlds was hard. She covered his hand with hers as they both dropped off to sleep.

A loud shout jarred Hermione from the gentle embrace of sleep. She resented the loud male voices now yelling. She hadn't slept so soundly in nearly a year. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up. Marcus stood next to the bed while Rodolphus stood at the foot, glaring him down. “Rodolphus, what's wrong?” she asked in a sleepy voice.

“What's wrong? What's wrong?” he yelled. “You never returned to Malfoy Manor. Narcissa was concerned enough to floo call her sister. We became even more alarmed when you weren't merely asleep in the library.” He resumed glaring at Marcus.

She stood, smoothing her wrinkled shirt. “We got some takeaway and came here to eat and talk. I guess we fell asleep. You do realize we're both adults. I didn't need anyone's permission. But I apologize for worrying you. I'll be sure to apologize to Narcissa as well.” She came around and kissed Rodolphus's cheek. “Thank you for caring.” He nodded grumpily. Instead of leaving the room, she continued around the bed, “I had so much fun tonight. Thank you. Come see me soon.”

“I'm off tomorrow, lunch?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I'll pick up something to surprise you. Any allergies?”

“Gingers,” they laughed. She raised on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his cheek. “See you tomorrow, or is that today?” She exited his room with a wave.

Marcus touched where her lips had been. He stared at the doorway after her, until he noticed Rodolphus's face. The older man looked even more annoyed than before. “She's just begun opening up. You're no green schoolboy, and she's fragile. And next week that lot comes home to a new status quo. You best not add to that stress.”

“Never,” he swore, “and this time I intend to defend her as she deserves.”

“You better. She cries one tear over you and you'll learn how much better at dueling I am than my brother, and how easy he's been taking it on you.”

“No offense, but in that situation, I'm more afraid of what she's going to do when she stops crying. Not that I intend to find out. Most likely, she'll start meeting the charming pretty boys and lose interest in me.” He shrugged, “She wouldn't be the first to, but I'll enjoy being her friend for as long as it lasts.”

Rodolphus nodded, “Good night, then.” At the door, he turned, “Our elves have noted she seems very fond of fruit and cream or salads for lunch. Perhaps take away from one of the nicer restaurants women lunch at. Ask Narcissa or your mother.”

“I will.”

Hermione apparated to the front door of Malfoy Manor. A glance at her watch told her it was 3 am. She summoned her elf, “Please let Narcissa know I'm back if she's still awake.” There was a chance Rodolphus exaggerated the concern of others.

The blonde woman arrived moments later, she made to hug the younger witch, but paused, unsure of her reception. Hermione opened her arms, “My apologies for concerning you. I never dreamed anyone would notice, let alone care this much. I simply went to dinner with Marcus Flint. We fell asleep talking.”

“Well, no harm done.” She rubbed Hermione's upper arms. “Off to bed for all of us.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine: Graduation

The morning of graduation, the Malfoys rushed about preparing to depart for the commencement ceremony and the party afterward. By early afternoon, Hermione was the only inhabitant of the Manor taller than four feet. Fighting off the melancholy, she flooed to Lestrange Hall before remembering Bellatrix was Draco's aunt. Having been pardoned for all crimes in the service of the Dark Lord, not that it had been worded that way, they could attend the graduation ceremony and the party held afterward. She sighed and tried to leave before they discovered her being pathetic.

Unfortunately, Bellatrix entered the room before she could spin away. “Oh, you. Roddy, your slaggy mudblood lover is here.”

Rodolphus came in, “Bellatrix we discussed this.”

“I am not his lover, and your lord told me to stop calling me a mudblood.”

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, “Uh-huh, you can deny it all you want, but I know what I see.”

“You want to be free of me, you know what you need to do,” Rodolphus reminded her in a cold voice.

“I cannot waste ten months right now to pop out some brat.”

“Adopt,” Hermione snapped, “or use a surrogate. Just stop sniping all the time. And, no, I am offering my womb.”

“What the hell is a surrogate?” demanded Bellatrix.

“A woman who carries the baby for a couple. And it does not mean that the surrogate has sex with the father.” She frowned, “You have three books on adoption and surrogacy in your library, look it up. They can change magical signatures, blood status, perhaps even a slight physical appearance, like an adopted Malfoy might gain gray eyes or blond hair. An adopted Weasley would most likely become ginger. It depends on ritual.”

“Interesting food for thought,” Rodolphus rubbed his chin. Bellatrix stomped out of the room, most likely headed to the library. “What brings you by, little witch?”

“Just being silly, really. Graduation Day and I'm not there. Not that my parents could have attended anyway, even if they were still with us,” she sighed.

“I'm sorry. Yaxley says the ministry is very impressed with your performance.”

“Once upon a time that news would have thrilled me.”

“Now?”

“I have no desire to waste my energy beating my head against glass ceilings while others steal my thunder to advance themselves. Nothing ever changes, and nothing ever will. Centuries of history shows that.”

“Perhaps you will feel differently in the future.”

She shrugged, “Anything can happen. But what are the chances of either group vying for power changing things to merit based practices? No one does that, or if they do it doesn't last.”

“How is someone so young so cynical?”

“My loss of innocence began at eleven, and it wasn't a long process.” She shrugged, “While my classmates were learning the wonders of magic I got the added lesson that no matter how hard I tried, no matter how good I was- I wasn't welcome, and I didn't matter.”

“You matter to me and Rabastan. We've become rather fond of you.” He reached into his robes, “I was going to leave this for you at the Manor.” He handed her a small box, “Happy graduation.”

“I'm not graduating,” she protested.

“You are not attending the ceremony, but Snape will add your names to the roles of graduates over the summer when no one is paying attention. You took your final exams, you graduated.”

“Neither of you had to do this,” she protested.

“We wanted to. Now, quit stalling and open your present,” he ordered. Obeying, she ripped open the coppery colored wrapping paper. The white jewelry case inside opened to reveal delicate square-cut amethyst earrings. “They belonged to our grandmother. She would have liked you. She believed girls should be feisty and outspoken.”

“Thank you, and thank Rabastan for me.”

“Thank me for what?” the wizard of discussion sauntered in.

“My lovely present.”

“You are most welcome. Now, come along, I'm not required at the festivities this evening, nor am I willing to see you restricted to your rooms all day. I arranged a portkey to Luxembourg for us.”

“Luxembourg?” she questioned confused by his choice.

“Have you ever been?”

“Well, no.”

“Perfect, let's go.” Excitedly, Rabastan took her hand. “Don't fret, old man, I'll have her back home in one piece by three at the latest.”

“Hardy har har.”

“Wouldn't want you panicking,” he saluted his older brother as they left the room.

Hermione felt the telltale jerk at her midsection. Rabastan held onto her ensuring she landed on her feet. “Steady then?” She nodded. “Good, first on our tour, Luxembourg's Diagon Alley, Beau Caree Magique.”

“Beautiful Magic Square?”

“Whimsically named perhaps, but not to be missed.” He began leading her down the street. Hanging flower pots and planted flower beds exploded with color. Black lampposts gleamed in the summer sun. Birds sang as they flitted from perch to perch. “I know most consider London, Rome, or Paris to be cultural centers, but I've discovered Luxembourg to combine the best of many cultures with their own unique spice thrown in.”

“What are we doing today?”

“This morning we will explore Beau Carre Magique, lunch at one of the charming cafes, then, this afternoon a little sightseeing, a little shopping. Finally, if you like, this evening we will finish with the magical side of the Grand Theater. They will be performing a ballet version of The Fountain of Fair Fortune.”

“That sounds amazing. There really needs to be a wizarding cultures class for muggleborns. Muggles Studies is a joke. It should be overhauled.”

“Really?”

“The material is decades out of date, the instructor spent maybe a handful of hours experiencing things firsthand, she's clueless.

“The one you knew passed away last August,” he commented.

“How unfortunate,” Hermione shrugged.

“Snape convinced the Dark Lord to allow him to drop the subject, except for the students taking the NEWT. Alecto teaches it.

“Those poor students.”

He led her to a brick wall in a bright alley between a flower shop and bakery. He tapped an old poster advertising laundry soap. The brick wall wavered and became translucent. “Like Platform 9¾, just walk on through.”

Stepping through the barrier she emerged into a bright swirl of color, light, and cheerful music. Where Diagon Alley could feel cramped and claustrophobic, the Square's open layout suggested planned growth. As if reading her mind, Rabastan remarked, “The war with Grindelwauld and the muggle wars damaged the square badly. They
took their time to plan when rebuilding.”

She smiled, “I approve.”

“I thought you might.” Rabastan bullied her into letting him spoil her. When a flirty shopkeeper complimented his pretty daughter, he corrected her, “Niece. I was fifteen when this little angel was born.” He winked at Hermione. She shook her head laughing.

At lunch, he questioned her about her growing relationship with Marcus, “You and Flint seemed to be getting on.”

“I like Marcus, he's nice.”

“Nice? The Falmouth Falcon's Human Bludger is nice?”

“He's nice to me, and that's all that matters, isn't it?”

“Valid point. He's behaving like a gentleman?”

“I suppose so. He hasn't offended me or made unwanted advances if that's what you mean.”

“He's made advances then, has he?” Rastaban asked half teasing.

“No, we fell asleep talking before any moves could be made, wanted or otherwise,” she primly reported with a small grin. They finished eating and continued their adventure.
By the time evening fell, Hermione had forgotten all about the events occurring in Scotland and Wiltshire. Light shopping included an appropriate dress for the ballet. Rabastan goaded her into getting an emerald green satin strapless sheath dress. Silvery gossamer chiffon flowed in two strips from her shoulders. He paid so she could wear it out of the shop. Once dressed, he popped her into a salon to have her hair put up in a stylish bun. Diamonds alternating with emeralds formed the pattern for her choker, earrings, and bracelet. The full-service salon applied a light layer of makeup before letting her go.

Rabastan allowed her to take her time admiring the outer facade of the building. She watched a few tourist children frolic in the marble floor fountain, shrieking their delight when the jets squirted them. The gravel-lined geometrical designs on the upper stores were very of their time. She looked over to point out a design to Rabastan and noticed him looking around, searching, “Bas, what...?” Then she saw him, standing with his back to them, also scanning the crowd. “Bas, why is Marcus Flint here?” her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“You fancy him. Your face lit up when you mentioned him. He fancies you enough to drop everything and come to Luxembourg to accompany you to the ballet. Because taking your niece to Fortune's Fountain is only okay at the matinee and if your niece is eight, not eighteen.”

“You know you aren't really my uncle, right?”

“Sure, sure. Now, hush, I want to enjoy his first glimpse of you in something fancier than what you study in.”

“He saw me at Yule Ball.” She rolled her eyes.

“That was four years ago, you've finished growing up. Shhh,” he raised his voice, “Oi, Flint.”

Hermione felt her heart stutter and butterflies whirl about her stomach as Marcus turned around. Six years ago if someone had told her Marcus Flint was fit she would have laughed her head off. But separate the eyebrows, straighten the teeth, mix in broad shoulders, and a muscled physique and the man was a demigod. Once his eyes found her, he paused, staring, his mouth hanging slightly open. She fought not to blush as his eyes roamed over her figure taking her appearance in. The dress clung tight in the right places and flared out leaving others to the imagination. It was by far the most form-fitting thing anyone in the wizarding world had seen her in. Completely ignoring Rabastan, Marcus strode forward, taking Hermione's hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “You look breathtaking.” He handed her a white rose tied with a silver ribbon.

“Thank you. You look wonderful, too.”

Rabastan grinned, “Well, no need for me anymore.” He handed over the tickets. “You'll need these. Have her home by 3 am.” Marcus nodded his understanding without looking away from Hermione. “Have fun, little witch.”

Hermione jerked her gaze from Marcus's, “Thank you, Bas, for all of today.” Impulsively she hugged him tightly.

“Give us a chance to be good to you, sweetheart. You won't be sorry,” he whispered hugging her back. “We can be like family.” Then louder, “Right, I'm off for bar fronts far seedier.” He shoved his hands in his front pockets and wandered off whistling.

Hermione smiled at Marcus, “I hope you didn't have more pressing plans than this.”

“Nothing I didn't happily cancel. Though be honest, I would cancel anything short of work for you.” She gave him a mock glare, though secretly felt pleased with his confession. He offered her his arm, “The ballet awaits.”

“Do you even like ballet?”

“Never been, but I get to spend the evening with you. Better yet, I get to watch you enjoy the ballet, even if I hate it, instead of standing around watching people fawn over graduates, most of which I barely know.” He ended the conversation by guiding her to the magical entrance.

A well-dressed usher led them to their seats. The program proudly proclaimed the dance troupe to be the Luxembourg Premier Ballet Company. Having read the story in the book Dumbledore left her, Hermione easily followed the tale of the three witches and the muggle knight. At the intermission, Marcus assisted her to stand and move about. “So? Enjoying yourself?” he asked.

“Immensely, you?”

He shrugged, “Not too bad. I enjoy any time I spend with you. Is this different from muggle performances?”

“Of course, there are limitations on muggle theater due to a lack of magic, things they could never show through practical effects.” He offered her his hand to help her retake her seat. She remained holding it through the second half of the performance.

After the performance, Marcus revealed he had stopped to make reservations for dinner in the magical area. Though he admitted, “Lestrange suggested a restaurant. I hope you like Mediterranean cuisine.”

“I do.” Later she couldn't recall a single thing she ate or much about the restaurant's decor. She learned Marcus spoke German, but only because he had to order for her when the waiter didn't know French or English. Most of her attention focused on the conversation between the two of them. She couldn't remember the last time she had been able to talk to someone without awkward pauses in the conversation, or having to resort to quidditch. Though, as he played professionally they did discuss that aspect of his life.

“I'm hoping to make the English team next time, provided the war stays in a stalemate or ends by then.”

“Can I ask why your father is so against your career? Most men would kill for their son to be a professional athlete.”

“My father would never admit it in so many words, but he is a social climber. He wants to break into the Dark Lord's Inner Circle, and into society in general. Shrewd investments helped him make a small fortune into an immense one, but,” he frowned.

“Old money looks down on New money. Same thing happens with muggles the world over. Whoever has the wealth and power wants to keep it, and doesn't like share it with new people.”

“Yeah. And younger men, like Malfoy and Nott are being fully initiated, and his sons are not.”

“I know Malfoy was in 6th year as kind of like a punishment, but why Nott?”

“His father is older than the rest of ours. He went to school with the Dark Lord. The rest of their generation will be waiting for a bit. The Dark Lord staggers these things.”

“Ah. And you can't get marked because the quidditch league doesn't allow body modification at this time?”

“Correct. And my brother hasn't been around much lately.”

“Oh?”

“My two older sisters, Cressida and Esme wanted to go husband hunting on the Continent. My older brother, Malcolm, had to accompany them because I can't take off that much time.”

“How long have they been gone?” she inquired.

“This time? Seven months. This is their third trip.”

“And this is part of what is keeping Malcolm from being marked?”

“I think so, but he does minor recruitment throughout Europe,” Marcus told her.

“Does that appease your father?”

“Nothing appeases Merrick Flint.”

“That's unfortunate.” Hermione grimaced and changed the subject away from families, not wishing for him to return the interest at the moment.

Hesitant to end the evening, Marcus suggested a stroll along the cobblestone streets of the Old Quarter towards Adolphe Bridge. “Ready to face the other graduates?”

“Hell no. If left to my own devices I wouldn't see them for at least another five years.” She sighed, “But somehow that doesn't seem to be an option.”

“No, it doesn't. Draco is popular and likes to hold court at home, so that's where they'll flock. I know most of them will be told of the new status quo and warned to behave either this evening or tomorrow morning.”

“Don't hex Granger, don't assault Granger, don't intentionally harm Granger,” she huffed in a deep gruff fake voice.

“Something along those lines.” He paused, sliding his hand into a more comfortable grip in hers. “My friends have mentioned wanting to meet you again.” He squeezed her hand, “Probably because I won't shut up about you.”

“Which friends?” she asked cautiously.

“Peregrine Bole, Cassius Warrington, Graham Montague, and Adrian Pucey, like most Slytherins they know of you, but not the real you. And Rabastan made sure to ask me about taking you to the ballet in front of Bole and Pucey. Those gossips need details and I refuse to face them alone. Come hang out tomorrow? Around seven?” He gave her a hopeful glance.

“Okay,” she agreed reluctantly. “Geez, who knew you looked so cute when you beg.”

“I'm going to overlook the accusation of begging for the more important development that you think I'm fit.”

“I said cute.”

“Which means fit,” he smirked.

“More like I find you adorable, like a bunny or a puppy.”

“Avoidance of the subject seems like a confession,” he teased.

She huffed, “Look, I don't have a lot of experience with this kind of thing. The first guy to see me as a girl was older than me and felt it was inappropriate to flirt too much or be too physical. And the second wasn't interested in me primarily. I was an accessory. Or maybe it was to keep me invested in the mission, I don't know anymore.”

“I'm really confused.”

“It doesn't matter right now. What does is that I don't want to play coy games. If you're not interested I want to know. If you are trying to gauge my interest before admitting yours, then fine, I'm interested enough to make an effort with you.” She looked past him over his shoulder. “But I'm not the best at flirting. Or other stuff.”

He shifted several times trying to get her to look at him. Finally, he took hold of her chin to keep her face still. “Hermione, reconnecting with you has confirmed all the ideas I had about you. You are brilliantly intelligent, brave, kind, and pretty. I also suspect you can be feisty, vengeful, and dangerous when you want to be.” He maintained eye contact as he kissed the back of her hand, then her palm, finishing with a soft kiss on her inner wrist. “I suspect, that much like the Bulgarian Bonbon, a younger witch caught my attention at a young age when I couldn't have her. Happily, for me, we are now both adults and I can act on it.” Slowly, giving her time to disengage, or halt his movements, he pulled her closer. Tilting her chin up, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.

In response, she placed her hands on his biceps and parted her lips to deepen the kiss. Marcus grasped her waist with both hands and pulled her closer. Tiny fireworks exploded in her veins. Ron had never kissed her like this. Eagerly, she slid her tongue against his lips. In turn, Marcus darted his own forward to explore her mouth. They stood in a snogging embrace on the bridge until a dog barking interrupted them. An elderly man walking his dog looked amused as his dog stopped barking at the low flying birds to sniff their shoes. “Excusez-moi. Torrence, allons-y.”

Hermione blushed and looked at the paving stones below their feet. Marcus exhaled, “I would apologize for allowing that to go so far in public, but I find myself not the least bit regretful at the moment,” he told her. “But if we wish to continue, may I suggest a more private location?”

“Like where?”

“Flint Lodge has a vast hedge maze, would you like to see it, Miss Granger?” he grinned down at her.

She smiled, “Why, yes, I believe I would, Mr. Flint.” She slid her hand up to his elbow, holding on.

“We'll have to floo back,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Nonsense,” she let go long enough to reach into her bag. “I stole Bas's portkey when he hugged me.” She took his hand holding the portkey between them. “Portus.” They dropped into the entryway of Lestrange Hall. “Now you can apparate us.”

“As the lovely lady commands,” he smirked before popping them into the center of the hedge maze. In the middle of the square-shaped open area, a fountain shot water up into the air, before it cascaded down four levels. Benches surrounded it. The towering hedge walls were covered with flowering vines and rose bushes woven in. In the distance night, insects sang, and an owl hooted. The full moon illuminated the entire area.

Hermione took a slow step forward, turning to take it all in, “Simply gorgeous.”

“Would it be cliche to say, yes you are?” Marcus wrapped his arms around her from behind and pulled her back against his chest.

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” he nibbled gently on the shell of her ear, “that's too bad because you are.” He walked backwards to a bench, then pulled her into her lap. “You also taste delicious.” He began pressing kisses back up to her ear. A moan escaped her lips as he moved to the other
side and repeated the process. She sagged against him and felt the substantial evidence he felt as affected as she did.

Realizing her position, he shifted her to perch on one leg. She tilted her upper body towards him and captured his lips with hers. Unlike the tender embrace on the bridge, they battled for dominance. She dug her hands into his hair as he moved one of his hands to the back of her neck, and the other to the small of her back. He growled when she raked her fingernails across his scalp and scooted her arse closer to his groin. He increase the intensity of his kiss before pulling back, “Okay, got to stop.”

“What?” she felt confused at his sudden rejection. “Why?”

He groaned at her disheveled appearance. “One, you aren't some tarted-up slag or fan. You are a lady and will be treated as such. Two, we are not going to get caught up in the moment and have sex out here. At least not our first time together. And if we don't stop, I'm going to want to get carried away. Three, I don't want to pressure you to get carried away, even unconsciously. Four, when we get there I want to take my time and make sure you feel worshiped. And, five, Rodolphus Lestrange may not actually be your father or have any kind of responsibility for you, but he certainly doesn't act like he isn't. And if I return you looking any more disheveled than you already do they will never find my body. And my death will be prolonged and extremely painful.”

“Most of those were legitimate concerns,” she conceded. He stared at her. “I won't be seeing Lestrange this evening. I'll be flooing straight to my room.” She slid onto the stone bench. “But, I respect your wishes, and will behave myself, too.”

“Thank you,” he nodded at her, “We should get you home.”

“Malfoy Manor isn't home, but I understand the sentiment. Walk me through the maze?”

He laughed, “The maze covers five acres.”

“Another time then,” she laughed.

“Don't forget, seven tomorrow. Do you want me to collect you?”

“I want to say no, that I'm brave enough to walk in by myself, but I don't think I am.”

“You could floo over early, say six, then you're already here. No entrances required.”

“That sounds brilliant!” she kissed his cheek. “Six it is.”

“Will you be apparating back to the Manor, or do you want me to pop you up to my floo?”

“Your floo, please.”

“As my lady commands.” He stood and offered her his hand.

“I said please,” she protested, “that makes it a request, not a command.” He chuckled and pulled her close before apparating.

In the sitting room of his suite, he kissed the inside of her wrist, “Good night, Marcus. Thank you for a wonderful evening, and an even better night.”

Chapter Text

Happy Saturday, darlings. I hope everyone is doing well. Thank you to everyone who has supported me by liking, reviewing, reading, and just being lovely people in general. I own nothing here. Enjoy.

Chapter 10

The next evening proved to be somewhat awkward, all of the Slytherins wanting to make a good impression, for Marcus's sake, and to please the Dark Lord. The conversation stalled several times. And remained stilted until Peregrine and Cassius began debating the feasibility of using a time turner to complete double the work in half the time. “It won't work. The entire premise is impractical.” She interjected.

Cassius snorted, “How would you know?”

“I used one 3rd year to take all the classes. I physically aged myself almost an entire year, and never really could catch up on sleep. When you are awake for thirty-two hours eight hours is not enough sleep. I slept for four days at one point, and even then still had fatigue for weeks.” They stared at her blankly. “And besides, most of the time turners were destroyed when we raided the Department of Mysteries 5th year.”

Cassius blinked twice, “When you what?”

“Several of us went with Harry to rescue Sirius Black, whom Harry thought was being tortured. He was not, it was a trap. We fought Death Eaters there. I, uh, Dolohov cursed me there. I almost died.”

“Oh, that's, um, yeah, I have no idea what to say to that.” Cassius gave an uneasy chuckle.

“What can you say to that?” she laughed. “It is the in the past, I am working on leaving it there. I am not going to suddenly think Death Eaters are good people, most of them have done horrible things, but so has the light. Some many shades of gray in the world.” She shrugged. That bit of conversation dropped the floodgates and the questions and answers flowed back and forth.

Narcissa informed Hermione that the Hogwarts aged children of Voldemort's followers knew she was his guest and they should behave accordingly. She also mentioned that with the Dark Lord in residence many would be in and out of the unofficial headquarters. Also, Draco's friends tended to flock there over the summer.
Draco either ignored her existence or sneered silently. Marcus's friends found her witty and delightful. Pucey and Warrington flirted with her shamelessly and generally enjoyed the sass they got back. Boles and Montague enjoyed picking her brain and riling her up with intellectual debates. When asked by schoolmates why she didn't try to boss them about she rolled her eyes. “I don't care enough. Why waste my breath?” She continued to impress the older generation and an unease truce seemed to have been reached, well, almost.

Pansy Parkinson frequently haunted the halls of the Manor. She took great delight in making snide comments about foul odors and the dirty state of certain rooms. She would wonder aloud how much better off Potter and Weasley were without Hermione. She would remind everyone how wonderful the last year of school had been. She constantly pretended to trip and knock into tables to spill liquids on Hermione. For Hermione's part, she found Parkinson's behavior to be predictable, juvenile, and not worth reacting to on the whole. The girl seemed to be begging Hermione to react, so she did nothing.

Marcus spent most of his time glaring at them from behind Hermione. He sent stinging hexes every time he noticed Draco's sneer. He would tell Parkinson if she thought there was a smell it was a sign to change her perfume. And that the last three years while she had still been in school had been so wonderful for them, “such a shame it's over. Have you considered traveling? My siblings have enjoyed stretching their wings over the last few years.”

Adrian laughed, “That's the nice way of saying, GO AWAY.”

Slowly it became apparent that Hermione wasn't going to respond to the taunts or looks, Marcus and his friends were going to rush forward to defend her, and that she was their parents' darling. Only the most stubborn continued with their school time behavior, much to Marcus's annoyance. It did seem to make Parkinson more determined to “put the mudblood in her place.”

-oOoOo-

Harry grimaced when Ron slammed the cupboard door shut. He knew they were empty. Checking for the one-hundredth time wouldn't change anything. It brought home how much they had relied on Hermione. And how much stress she had been under. He watched Ron searching and for the one-thousandth time wondered if Hermione discovered their secret, and why Ron had been so determined he needed to woo her and pretend to be her boyfriend. His head began to pound. Regret didn't bring her back, nor did it fill their empty stomachs. “Look, Ron, we need to face facts, without Hermione we need help. We can't stop You-Know-Who,” he rolled his eyes and said the name in a sarcastic tone, “if we starve to death. We have to go back.”

“I don't want to have to pretend,” Ron whined in protest.

“It's been months since we broke into the ministry. They have to assume we've moved. We'll stay at Grimmauld Place, but let the Order know what's going on.”

Ron pouted briefly, “You're right, we can contact them from there.”

The Order of Phoenix was overjoyed that the boys were safe, but dismayed Hermione wasn't with them. “No one mentioned her capture, and having Undesirable #2 in custody would be a major feather in their caps, for the Ministry and the Death Eaters,” Tonks said softly, bouncing baby Teddy on her hip.

“Maybe something attacked that wasn't a dark wizard,” suggested Lupin.

Ginny snorted, “Hermione the werewolf, they'd give her back just to shut her up.”

“Or more likely, kill her when she wouldn't join them,” Lupin replied sternly. Ginny gulped nervously.

“The more pressing issue here is to fatten the boys back up and started looking for these horcruxes.” Molly bustled around the kitchen fixing piles of food. “Hermione will show back up, or she won't.”

“I thought you liked Hermione,” Tonks sounded surprised by Molly's flippant attitude.

“Of course, but we have no idea where to even begin looking, or if she wants to be found. Maybe she ran off,” the older witch shrugged unconcerned, returning to fussing over his son and Harry.

-oOoOo-

Intrigued by the note, 'Stole your girl,' from Boles, Marcus flooed to his friend's home after practice. He found Hermione idly flipping through a book while Peregrine attempted to cancel her permanent glamour necklace effects. “I see you physically stole her, that's kidnapping,” he said flopping down next to her.

Without looking up from the book, she informed him, “I came willingly.” She side-eyed for his reactions, then broke out into a beaming smile for him.

“She stubbornly refuses to see how I am the superior scion. She actually told me we were interchangeable so she'd keep the one she had.”

“Yeah, sounds like her.” He pressed a kiss to her temple while she preened.

Warrington joined them a few minutes later, “Still blonde I see.” Hermione wiggled her fingers in greeting. “Did you lot hear about the younger Wilkinson brother?” He waited for their responses before continuing, “Caught with his trousers down with his assistant,” he paused for dramatic effect, “his much younger male half blood assistant.” He grinned at their shocked expressions.

Except for Hermione, first, she looked bored, then thoughtful, “Is the issue the assistant's age, gender, or blood status?”

Peregrine raised a curious eyebrow, “Mostly age and gender, why?”

“I wasn't sure. Is homosexuality taboo? It is for the most part in the muggle world, but it is becoming more accepted by some groups.”

“It is and it isn't. To be accepted you have to be discreet, and purebloods are still expected to get married and pop out at least one heir for appearance's sake.” Both he and Marcus felt concern at Hermione's look of horror wondering what about that could affect her so.

On her end, Hermione hadn't thought her heart could break any further over Ronald Weasley, but realizing he had been stringing her alone to be his beard devastated her. She thought she might vomit. “Excuse me,” she stood and strode from the room onto the balcony. The three looked at each other in confusion.

Peregrine's house elf, Lula, popped in, “Master, Missy Granger is beings sick on the balcony. Should Lula be helping?”

“I'll check on her, Lula. Thank you.” Marcus stood and went to find her. Hermione knelt by a stone planter, dry heaving. Marcus crouched down next to her. “Hermione, love, what's wrong?”

“I am so humiliated,” she cried.

“Little dove, we've been mates long enough that we have all vomited on one another plenty. This is nothing.”

“Not the being sick part, the cause of my digestive pyrotechnics.” She conjured a glass of water and rinsed her mouth. Marcus pulled her onto his lap. “Ugh, okay, no interruptions, let me get through this. You knew me when I was younger. I was never a girly girl, part of that was a block Dumbledore put on me, so I wouldn't make some discoveries. I'm not sure what all occurred. No one saw me as female until Viktor. Fifth and 6th year I had a massive crush on Ron, one I thought he finally returned.” She dashed away the tears from her cheeks. “We, um, we were on a mission. I was standing guard. It started raining, so I went inside. They,” she broke down in sobs. Marcus rubbed her back in small soothing circles, making shushing sounds. “They were FUCKING each other on my bed! They were supposed to be my best friends. They LIED to me, and carried on behind my back, on my sheets, where I slept. Two perfectly good cots not three feet away had to do it on mine. Now, I find out Ron would have married me and expected me to be a good little wife and looking the other fucking way!”

“I have no words,” Marcus told her quietly. He held her tighter. She began to cry harder. “Let it all out.” He saw Peregrine and Cassius's concerned looks through the window. “Later,” he mouthed. They nodded and disappeared back into the room. “I cannot imagine how you feel, little dove, but Weasley is an arse and Potter is a fool to take an angel like you for granted. A mistake I intend to avoid.”

“Ron never wanted to be intimate in any way in front of Harry. I used to think it was because he didn't want to make Harry uncomfortable or feel like a third wheel.”

“I will tell you now, I won't be deeply demonstrative in front of people, but that is because I'm possessive, not of you, I don't own you. But every moan, gasp, breathy sigh, and adorable squirm belong to me. No one else gets to hear them. But I will never deny we are together to spare anyone's feelings.”

“I can accept that.”

“Good to know,” he stood and took her hand, “Want to go back in, or should we abandon them and go work on those breathy sighs.”

She chuckled weakly, “My book is still in there.”

“Back in for the book then onto moans.”

“No,” she laughed.

“No?” he winked.

“No,” she stated firmly.

“As you wish.”

The others absorbed them into the current conversation as if Hermione hadn't had a small mental collapse moments before. Eventually, she returned to her book as Pucey and Montague joined them and the conversation turned to quidditch. Pucey also played for the Falcons, and Montague played for the Arrows. Shop talk was inevitable. She turned the page to begin reading about obedience charms, an antiquated form of discipline used to make daughters and wives easier to control back when they were considered property.
Two pages into the chapter she felt her blood turn to ice. She connected the dots in her head to create a picture. Why she would so foolishly overlook Ron and Harry's affair until she had her nose rubbed in it. Why they had treated her so poorly. The longer an obedience spell was in place, the more it encouraged the bondholder to dismiss the victim. The magic also made the victim easily dismissed, easily overlooked. That way no one except the victim had to deal with their servitude, or feel too guilty about it. Dumbledore would have been the original bondholder, then he added Ron and Harry, and given her behavior, Molly Weasley. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, paragon of the light, had enslaved her with dark magic at eleven years of age. Her perception of betrayal helped her to break the control eventually, but it had occurred in full view of others, and with their cooperation in some cases. The fiery rage rushed back to take her over. She would have married Ron because he told her to. She would have forgiven the betrayal and ignored the affair because Molly told her to. That harridan would have molded her into her image of a perfect wife for that callous wastrel. She would have pushed herself beyond the breaking point to help them, and they would grow to despise her and mistreat her, or at best care less and less what became of her. She stared at the words on the page, feeling the waves of anguish and anger washing over her.

“Are we boring you, little witch?” teased Pucey. She turned to look at him, her eyes blazing with hate and fury. “Hermione, are you okay? What's wrong?”

“What's wrong?” she spat. “What's wrong is that the wizarding world is full of hypocrites and disgusting abusive magic without consequences!” Her voice rose in volume with her anger, and twisted into a mocking bitter tone, “So that the paragons of the light can be hypocritical fucking bags of shite.” She leapt to her feet. “They, he, they,” she clenched and unclenched her fists, unable to further articulate her rage.

Marcus pulled her into his arms. “Deep breaths, deep breaths. What do you need, little dove?”

She cuddled into his embrace, inhaling his cologne, a woodsy scent that suited him. She let its positive associations with him help center her. Once she felt calmer, she raised her head from his chest, looking at each of them encircling her with concerned expressions. “I think I need to talk to Mr. Malfoy or Professor Snape.”

Cassius perked up, “Both are at Malfoy Manor, another spoil the graduates and help them network events. My parents are there since Dad is a department head.”

Adrian nodded in agreement, “Yeah, you probably shouldn't go, mixed company, not everyone will know about you.”

“We'll be in the front parlor,” Marcus told them as they raced from the room.

Ten minutes later, from the safety of Marcus' arm across her shoulders, Hermione repeated her suspicions to Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, and Rodolphus Lestrange. Snape nodded, “Dumbledore only seemed to notice you when you objected to the boys mistreating you. Now, I realize that is because he would have needed to reinforce the charm.” He stroked his beard, “My apologies, Miss Granger for never realizing that was what was going on.”

“Could you have done anything if you had known?”

“I don't believe I could, or even would, have.”

“Then don't let it bother you too much. You had no reason to put yourself at risk for me at that time.” She scrubbed her face with her hands. “I need to figure why he felt this was necessary.”

“We will assist you, of course,” Lucius offered immediately. “We can start first thing tomorrow with the Malfoy library.” Hermione looked up at him in shock. “Why the surprise?”

“No one's ever offered to help me before, let alone imply it was a priority.”

“Well, I am, and it is. I cannot speak for Rod or Severus, but I am at your disposal, Miss Granger.”

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” she smiled weakly.

“Are you alright, love?” Rodolphus asked.

“It has been an emotional last few hours, that's all. I'm sorry to have disturbed your evening.”

“This certainly was not just foolish teenage hysterics. Learning someone you should have been able to trust implicitly has betrayed you in such a manner would be distressing to anyone.” Snape sniffed.

“Why don't you come back to the Hall with me tonight? Bella and I want to discuss something with you, we can do it in the morning.”

“I can do that,” she bid the boys farewell, giving Marcus a kiss.

Rodolphus showed her to a room in the Hall. Mechanically, she showered and went through the motions to prepare for bed. She doused the lights and climbed into bed. Lying in the darkness, her emotions still jumping all over the place, Hermione forced herself to focus on Ron. Her eagerness and drive to prove herself made her seem bossy and a know-it-all. Mix with Ron's lack of formal education background and her insecurities, they were never going to get on. She annoyed him, he bullied her. They created a vicious circle going around and around. What had changed to make her think they were friends?

The week before Halloween Dumbledore found her examining Helga's crest. When he had put the first charms on her- learn everything, protect Harry, take care of Harry. So when the troll attacked, she hadn't been where she was supposed to be because of Ron, and she lied to protect them. And she did it, not because she felt she owed them because Dumbledore ordered her to.

She tolerated Ron in the beginning. Then, like Harry, her friendless history caused her to inflate the crumbs of friendship Ron showed her. Their friendship had never been one of equals, Hermione gave and Ron took. Ron could be quite the bully, perhaps worse than Malfoy because he thought he was a good guy.

Third year he raged at her about Crookshanks chasing Scabbers. Every time Crooks was exonerated, Ron huffed but never actually apologized. Not even when Scabber turned out to be Peter Pettigrew!

Fourth year he ignored her femininity, part of which was Dumbledore's fault. Then he got mad because she wasn't just sitting around waiting for him to need a date. His resentment boiled over that night, he insulted her date, her appearance, and ruined the end of the night for her, forever tainting those memories. And that was after he abandoned Harry! She knew the charms had fueled her emotions then, and the emotions related to them weren't quite her own. And even when he came back he never apologized. Third year after the broom incident he made her grovel. He treated her like the dirt beneath his shoes. And it wasn't even his broom.

She had no idea when the crush started, if any of it had been her. But she remembered the anguish his relationship with Lavender caused her. When she returned home her feelings for him seemed to dim. Spending time with Viktor always pushed thoughts of Ron into the back of her mind.

Then Dumbledore died and once she returned to the Burrow those feelings came racing back. She had been blissfully happy with Ron's attention. Pathetic crumbs of fluffy nothing meant to keep her on the line. Looking back she was annoyed with herself for not being able to see through his behavior. But with complete honesty she admitted, there had been times when they had fun together, where she felt like they were truly friends. The crush and dating might have been manipulation, but at some point, they had been friends. And while they fought, she always forgave him because it made Harry happy. Harry had a shite family life and having friends was important to him. Just seemed unfair Ron couldn't have been ordered not to be a git.

These thoughts lead her to examine her relationships with the rest of the Weasleys. Ginny seemed very fair weather. She could be a good friend when she bothered, but she didn't seem to bother often. Percy was a prat. She assumed she would soon come back into contact with him as he remained at the Ministry. She barely knew Bill or Charlie. That left the twins. They could be rambunctious and their pranks could be cruel. But they were also loyal, brave, and kind. She wondered if they could forgive neutrality or worse. She fell asleep mourning her friendship with Fred and George, but not regretting setting herself free.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11 Fed Up

At breakfast, both married Lestranges sat side by side across from Hermione. Rabastan was nowhere in sight. “A month or so ago you suggested we adopt an heir. After much discussion we agreed that would be the thing to do and selected the best ritual for our purposes,” Rodolphus started.

“When I complained a baby would still be time consuming, even with a nanny, the Dark Lord suggested adopting an older child.” Bellatrix continued. “Then I worried about someone dumping their weak squib child on us.”

“Leaving us to consider someone older. Neither of us desires parenthood, just an heir for House Lestrange. We thought perhaps someone in need of a family, a powerful intelligent individual.”

“Someone like me,” Hermione put her fork down, giving the conversation her undivided attention. “Why me?”

“You are the aforementioned intelligent powerful witch, you are also driven. The Dark Lord favors you. You need a family. And if the ritual changes your features you know how to deal with the curls.” Rodolphus smiled at the last part.

“And Roddy already dotes on you like he's your father.”

“Did you mention this plan to Lord Voldemort?” she asked sipping her juice.

“I did,” he assured her.

“And he agreed?”

“He seemed amused by something, but pleased with the outcome of the idea.”

“I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing,” she answered hesitantly. “This wouldn't mean I'm joining the Death Eaters or supporting your cause. I reserve the right to leave when I want.”

“Of course,” Bellatrix purred. “You're an adult.”

“When would we be doing this?”

“Once we have all the potion ingredients. Some of them have to be ordered. Though the house elves prepared a room here for you in the family wing. You can move in whenever you want.”

“And Maisie has been assigned to you,” Bellatrix added.

“I suppose I should warn you, my new familiar is a snake.” Hermione watched for their reaction.

“Like the Dark Lord? How lovely,” Bellatrix beamed. “Will we need to procure him food, or does he like to hunt?”

“He's been on his own for numerous years, and he's never asked me to bring him dinner. He's aquatic, so he'll prefer the lake. But he might enjoy eels if we could.”

“I will make the arrangements for them,” Rodolphus promised.

“Then I shall finish eating and return to Malfoy Manor to begin organizing my eventual move here.”

“I will inform Lord Voldemort of your acceptance. He mentioned wanting to be kept informed,” he nodded.

“Certainly.”

-oOoOo-

It was still quite early when Hermione returned to Malfoy Manor. After entertaining last night, she expected the household to still be abed. Despite silencing spells and the distance from the other bedrooms, she moved about silently. She pulled the heavy curtains open and turned around. Two forms stirred in the bed. Startled and confused, Hermione looked around to verify she was in her room. Sir Hiss slithered from his basket to greet her. 'Yes, this is my room. So who the hell is that?'

Slowly she released her wand from the wrist holster. Gripping it she eased towards the bed. The inhabitants sat up, rubbing eyes and stretching. Hermione blinked twice to verify she did, in fact, see a naked Pansy Parkinson and a most likely naked Terrence Higgs. The fury she had been suppressing boiled back to the surface. “Oh my arsing gods in a box,” she seethed. “How dare you?” she ground out through gritted teeth. She sent two rapid fire stinging hexes at the pair.

Terrence leapt from the bed using a pillow to shield his groin from further hexes, “Granger, oh Salazar, is this your room? We, uh, we had no idea.”

'Lies,' hissed her familiar, 'the female told the male. They knew, they planned this.'

“Likely story,” Hermione snapped, “guest rooms don't generally have personal possessions, now do they?”

“Relax, Gran...” Parkinson started.

“No, Parkinson, this was a step too far. You came in here knowing this was my room. I haven't the faintest idea what these shenanigans were supposed to do, but I have had my fill of sitting back and taking everybody's shite.” She flicked her wand again, sending a new kind of stinging hex that lingered longer. “Beyond disrespecting me, which I can believe you capable of, I cannot believe you would be so blatantly disrespectful to my host.”

Parkinson sneered, “Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy will side with purebloods over a mudblood.”

“Purebloods that snuck out of the public areas during an event to fornicate in a guest room?” She rolled her eyes. “But that's not who I meant. The Malfoys are housing me for my real host as he does not have a permanent residence at the moment.”

“Oh, no,” breathed Higgs.

“Oh, yes! Avis, dracforis, oppronigio!” Tiny canaries morphed into little fire-breathing dragons and attacked. “Bee.” The house elf popped into the room.

“Missy Mione, what bes happening?”

“These wayward guests have gotten lost and misplaced their clothes. See them out, then burn the bed.” Higgs lunged for his trousers. Hermione vanished them. “As you are. Immediately.” Both started to object. “No, you wanted to humiliate someone- here you go. Maybe it will remind you to think things through next time.” Both of them stood in place. “Bee, feel free to use discipline stinging hexes to keep them moving.”

Yelping at the sting to her buttocks, Parkinson jumped and glared, “You'll regret this, Granger.”

“I rather doubt it. None of you can harm me, or allow me to be harmed. And let's face it, I am smarter than you. The only reason you've gotten away with your sneers and little comment so far is because I allowed it. Well, that trickle of generosity ended. I suggest you start walking. The longer you take the more likely it is you'll get an audience for your walk of shame. To the public floo, Bee.”

Given the vicious grin on the small creature's face and the number of times she hexed them, Hermione suspected Parkinson was not popular amongst the staff at Malfoy Manor. She followed them down the hall to the stairs and from the stairs to the public floo. Once they were gone, Hermione addressed her assistant, “You don't have to burn the bed. But please, pack all of my things. I do not wish to stay in that room any longer. I planned to move to Lestrange Hall eventually, this just moves up my timetable.”

“Bee will miss Missy Mione.”

“I will still be here often and ask for your assistance when I need help.”

“Thank you, missy.”

Despite having already eaten, and having no appetite, Hermione headed for the informal dining room. She didn't expect Parkinson to take this sitting down, the girl was too proud and stupid to easily admit defeat. She began planning the silly bint's complete social downfall in her head, it made her feel better. She found Rodolphus, Snape, and Voldemort sipping tea, while Narcissa and Lucius ate. “Good morning, Miss Granger, breakfast?”

“Thank you, no, just a cuppa, please.” She sat across from Rodolphus. Before the conversation could resume, Draco sauntered in.

“Good morning, family.” His lips twisted and scrunched his nose at Hermione. She narrowed her eyes wordlessly, and wandlessly, flicked her lingering stinging hex at his chest. “What the fuck, mud...”

Before he could finish the word she sent two more stinging hexes and a pushing spell to knock him over. “I decided I didn't like your face. And after this morning, I will not be tolerating shite anymore. Glinda is dead and Dorothy went home. Long live the new wicked witch of the west.” Voldemort and Snape snorted in laughter at her muggle reference. “You lot had your chance, now it is open season on you twats.” She returned to her tea. Draco stood and cautiously moved to the table. “You might consider warning your mates, or not.”

“May I inquire into the nature of this morning's events?” Voldemort asked in a bored tone as if asking about the weather.

“I haven't decided yet.”

“You haven't decided if I may inquire?”

“Of course, you may, I haven't decided if I want to answer, which is your real question.”

“And why is that?” the Dark Lord asked. Draco watched this teasing back and forth with horror filled eyes. The realities of the situation began to finally set in.

“I haven't decided if socially destroying someone is more pleasurable when you can watch in person, or from a safe distance away from the fallout.

“As I expect you are more than capable of handling any fallout, I suggest in person.”

“Then, no, you may not inquire. It will have more impact if you have no previous knowledge.”

“Very well,” Voldemort nodded, “Lucius and Severus made me aware of your discovery last night. I took the liberty of requesting Yaxley's assistance in your research.”

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled at him.

“I believe he intends to bring research assistants.”

“You spoil me.”

Voldemort grinned, “Someone has to, why not me? Yaxley approved of the idea of starting here to see how widespread the information, or rather isn't.”

“He just likes Lola's tea cakes.”

“I'm sure that played a factor in him agreeing with Lucius.”

Yaxley brought Thorfinn Rowle and his Unspeakable apprentice, “Congratulations, boy, today you learn about keeping secrets, the big secrets, the ones that are life changing, even earth shattering.”

Already a Death Eater, Rowle bowed to Voldemort and greeted Hermione. The apprentice stared eyes wide at the Dark Lord and then in shock at Hermione. “Sir, that's Hermione Granger, Undesirable #2. She's wanted for questioning and refusing to come forward for registration.”

Yaxley cuffed him upside the head. “You're embarrassing yourself and, more importantly, me. Keep your trap shut and your ears open.” He nodded to Voldemort.

Voldemort nodded back, “We are interested in the idea of an heir to the Founders, as in all four lines combining in one person undiluted enough to be able to inherit. We will begin the search before moving onto other libraries.”

Yaxley took charge of assigning each of them a pile of books to peruse. The persistent stares of Yaxley's apprentice began to grate on Hermione's nerves. She glared at him over the top of her book, “If you don't stop watching me like that, I will invent a brand new hex just for you.” The rest of the group chuckled at her comment and the resulting eep.

“Be sure you document your work for me, princess.” Yaxley laughed. “And some notes on that hex you used on young Malfoy would be most welcome. Your amulets are amazing, by the way.”

“Thank you, I must admit, I got the idea from a Weasley twin joke product.”

“Still brilliant,” Yaxley told her. He looked at his apprentice, “You are the other hand are becoming somewhat of a disappointment.”

Mid-morning an agitated elf interrupted, “Excuse me, master, but two wizards are demanding to see Master and Dark Master.”

“Inform them we are attending to a matter of utmost importance.” Lucius told him.

“I dids, master. They bes insisting is matter of life and dishonor.”

“Just have them shown in, Lucius.” Voldemort ordered. “Hermione, would you be so good as to glamour yourself until we learn their identities?”

“Absolutely,” she activated a disguise charm. A mousy redhead appeared in her place.

Moments later the elf returned with Pius Parkinson and Miles Higgs, both looking visibly angry. “Gentlemen,” Lucius greeted them, “as you can see we are occupied. How can I help you?”

“We demand an explanation and reparations,” Parkinson sneered.

“About what?” inquired Lucius in an interested tone, having no idea what they referred to.

“That uppity mudblood you housed here vanished our children's clothes before hexing them repeatedly, chasing them from your house,” Miles sniffed.

Gesturing her to drop the glamour, Voldemort gave her an amused smile, “Did you really?” He sounded vaguely proud.

“When was this?” Rodolphus asked.

Hermione shrugged, “I did. It was this morning.”

Parkinson bellowed in rage, both wizards pulling their wands. “How dare you?” he hissed.

“Expelliarmus,” both wands flew to her hand. She enfolded from her chair regally. “How dare I? How dare I? How dare you!” She slammed both of them in the face with the strongest stinging hex she would muster. She stalked towards them. “Your ill mannered spawn knowingly fornicated in my bed, insulting me, my host, and the family housing me at his behest. Stinging hexes and a walk of shame are the mildest punishment they deserve.”

Voldemort smirked, “So aptly put, my dear.”

Lucius frowned, ignoring Higgs and Parkinson, “Miss Granger, would you indulge me and regal us with the whole tale?”

“If I must. I stayed at Lestrange Hall last night, returning early this morning. I entered my room to find Pansy and Terrence naked in my bed, where they had been the entire night based on the evidence. I vanished their clothes and had Bee herd them to the floo so undressed.”

“I commend you on your resistant,” complimented Lucius. He whipped around sending a pale blue hex at them, causing squeals.

Pius, Miles, compose yourselves,” ordered Voldemort. “Go home, deal with your children, or I shall do it for you. They are to apologize to the Malfoys and Miss Granger.” Pius briefly considered objecting but thought better of it. Higgs dragged him from the room.

Voldemort regarded Hermione, “Is this the incident spoken of at breakfast?”

“It is.”

“You were correct, better we had no idea.”

Returning to her assigned pile, Hermione felt the dredges of irritating bubbling under her skin. Why did people persist in being short shortsightedly annoying? She flicked another hex at Yaxley's apprentice. The poor thing stared at her in horror. Yaxley cuffed him, chuckling dryly at her antics.

As the afternoon grew old, Narcissa announced they would be dressing for dinner, but everyone was welcome as they would be entertaining. “I invited the families you requested, darling.” Her smile included Lucius and Voldemort.

“Rodolphus, Hermione, you intend to join us, I hope?” Understanding refusal would cost her face after the events earlier, Hermione nodded her acceptance.

Yaxley also agreed, “In that case we should wrap up for today.”

His apprentice hesitantly raised his hand, “I had a random thought, sir. Is this heir a title given in prophecy, or just a way to describe their heritage?” Yaxley gestured for him to continue. “Maybe what we actually want to know is what kinds of inherited magic that person would have, or is this a title of some kind, like Chosen One, or Oldest Son of Merlin.”

“Thank Salazar, you are capable of original thought! And solid theory. I'll make the arrangements to visit the hall, my lord.”

“Thank you, Corbin. Let us adjourn until after that visit.” The three from the ministry departed.
Rodolphus addressed Hermione, “Wait for me in your room, I'll escort you down.”

“Actually, after Parkinson and Higg's little stunt, I had Bee move my things to Lestrange Hall. I have little to no interest in sleeping in that bed ever again.”

Lucius gave her a tight smile, “I completely empathize. Do you need Bee's assistance for your preparations?”

“I assigned Maisie to see to Hermione,” Rodolphus informed him.

“But Bee is most welcome to come to assist. Maisie may need the emotional support when she sees my hair up close,” Hermione joked. Everyone laughed and Voldemort silently showed his approval at her diplomacy. She addressed him, “I think we should tell at least those assembled, and Yaxley, what's going on.” She waited for his approval or rejection.

“As you will, your secrets, not mine.”

“Dumbledore suspected, but never told me in so many words that I am the power the Dark Lord knows not. I descended from all four Founders, Merlin, and Circe. Dumbledore erased my memories of seeing the crests of these wizards in family heirlooms. Then he bound me with obedience charms to himself, Molly Weasley, and Ron Weasley, at the very least, to ensure I would serve his greater good.”

The indignation on their faces warmed her. Horror and rage crossed every face. “That stupid short sighted fool.” exploded Snape. “Those spells drive the master to indifference at best, and at worst negligent dislike. Unless broken the victim is sure to live and die in misery, never knowing what they did to make someone hate them so. Even worse, it encourages others to ignore the suffering. The victim becomes an afterthought.”

“Have you considered checking yourself, sir?” she asked quietly. “How you describe it, seems like the way yourself was treated. Also, I doubt I am the first treated thus.”

Lucius nodded, “Thoughts for tomorrow, tonight we will enjoy good food and conversation. Ladies, we look forward to your lovely company. Hermione, we leave you to the mercies of your house elves.” She obediently gave a fake epp of fright, making everyone laugh again. Rodolphus and Hermione left to ask Bellatrix to join them. Though not yet completely free to return to Voldemort's side, Bellatrix jumped at the opportunity to dine with him and hurried to prepare. Hermione went to begin dressing for dinner.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12 Death Eater Dinner

Hermione showered and left her hair to air dry per Maisie and Bee's instructions. She stood in her dressing room before the open wardrobe, debating which dress to wear. Finally, she pulled out a pine green sheath dress, the asymmetrical top resembled the top worn by a Grecian statue, with one wide strap over her shoulder. The dress was sleeveless with a square neckline. A slit on the right side came up to mid-thigh. She paired the dress with black Manolo Blahnik peep-toe pumps that clasped around the ankles. She cast cushioning and balancing charms on the pumps. To brighten the dark color of the dress she matched it with white gold and diamond jewelry.

One of the last things Eleanor and Hermione had done together was to go get pierced again. Hermione added a second hole to each ear and pierced her right helix. Eleanor pierced the same helix, "Even if I cannot remember you, you will be part of me forever. And you will remember me.” Her heart squeezed at the thoughts. In memory of her parents, she wore Eleanor's favorite dangling drop earrings. Each earring had three simmering strands of square diamonds handing from a two carat square diamond. Above those, she wore her own one carat square diamonds, a gift from the Grangers. She transfigured the ball of the helix hoop into a crow, representing the Lestrange family. She slipped the matching bracelet on and asked Maisie to help her put on the matching choker. Together the elves arranged her hair in a cascading waterfall of curls, held in diamond accented barrettes.

“Simply perfect, thank you, both.” The elves beamed at her praise. She hurried downstairs to meet the Lestranges.

Bellatrix eyed her critically, “A little on the risque side, but I like that.” Rodolphus glared at her.

“This is conservative compared to some dresses,” Hermione informed her.

“You look lovely, Hermione,” Rodolphus told her. “But save those more risque dresses for events I don't attend. This is enough skin for me.”

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, “Don't be absurd. Let's go.”

Despite no official announcement being made, or the adoption even having occurred yet, both Lestranges treated Hermione like their offspring. They waited for her to depart the floo and presented her to their hosts. Even still, Bellatrix deserted them the instant Voldemort entered the drawing room. “Unsurprising,” Rodolphus muttered under his breath without much emotion. Idly, Hermione wondered if he would begin seeking female companionship soon as his wife clearing preferred someone else. “Those ingredients can't come in soon enough.”

“Will you divorce?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Unlikely, the Dark Lord has never expressed any interest in matrimony, and she's content just sharing his bed. I'm content just having her out of my hair. And staying wed will keep the vultures away.”

“Vultures?”

“Widows and husband seekers, an unmarried man must be in want of a wife.”

“All I ask is for someone older than me. I'm afraid I might smother her in her sleep otherwise.”

“You have a delightful little violent streak, don't you?” He smiled at her proudly.

Hermione shrugged, “I'm finished tolerating fools.”

“I fear for those of your generation,” he murmured.

“I've met a few I can tolerate,” she flashed him a feral grin.

“Just tolerate? You wound me, princess.” Adrian covered his heart and staggered back dramatically.

“Better than loathe entirely,” she quipped.

“Your words cut, my lady,” Adrian shook his head sadly.

“Your ego will survive,” she rolled her eyes.

“But will my heart?” he asked a plaintive voice.

“I would be more worried about my head if I were you. She has no interest in you, your heart will be fine.” Marcus told his friend. “Evening, Lestrange, hello, little dove. You look stunning.” He made a show of looking her over. “Simply stunning.”

“I'd start worrying about your own head, mate.” Adrian nudged him, nodding his head towards Rodolphus's frown.

Ignoring the others, Hermione smiled up at Marcus, “Thank you. You clean up nice.”

Marcus gave her a small smirk, “I try.”

Adrian pouted, “I think it is eminently unfair of you to attach yourself to the first bloke you meet just because Rabastan introduced you.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“So this is Bas's fault?” joked Rodolphus with fake gruffness.

“And I did not pick the first of you I met, and Bas did not introduce us,” Hermione primly replied.

“He didn't?” Adrian sounded surprised.

“No, he did not.”

“Then how did you meet?” demanded Adrian.

“Hogwarts. He may not have had the reputation as the nice Slytherin, but he was always nice to me.” She informed him primly.

“How did I miss this?” asked Cassius, joining them. “Good evening, all.”

“You weren't paying attention at the right time. And be honest, how often did you really pay attention to me?”

“Does now count?” Cassius leered.

Marcus growled, “Do you have to flirt like this in front of me?”

Adrian and Cassius answered in unison, “Yes.”

Cassius laughed, “You know how this works until there is a sealed engagement all's fair.”

“Do I get a say?” Hermione inquired politely.

“Since you don't have a legal guardian that anyone here recognizes, maybe,” pondered Adrian.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Rodolphus. “ Right now your legal guardian is probably McGonagall since Dumbledore died. But your opinion is paramount in all things. And these boys would do well to remember that family name is not the only thing taken into account when it comes to marriage.” He eyed them. “But, as you seem comfortable in their company, I will leave you. Lucius is summoning me.”

“Of course, if they annoy me, I'll hex them.”

“Sounds acceptable.”

“What was that exchange about?” inquired Cassius.

“Never you mind, it is a long complicated and I don't wish to discuss my personal business in a public area full of gossips.”

“Speaking of gossip, I heard there was a kerfuffle with Parkinson and Higgs this morning. Spill!” Adrian asked.

“What do you know?” Hermione sassed back.

“They flooed home this morning starkers because you vanished their clothes.”

“From my bedroom floor. Those slags fornicated in my bed last night. I had a house elf hex them to the floo and then home. Their foolish fathers thought to complain about me to the Dark Lord, who immediately showed them their error.”

“Their disrespect to the Malfoys for leaving public areas, wow,” Cassius remarked.

“And to the Dark Lord, you're his guest,” Marcus whispered.

“Precisely.”

“Oh, to have seen Pansy's face,” sighed Adrian.

“Get a pensieve and make it worth my while,” Hermione teased.

“If I make them play nice, you have to play nice,” Marcus lightly pinched her side.

“Again, make it worth my while.”

“Minx,” he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side.
“You like it,” she smirked up at him.
He looked down at her, then frowned. “Why have I never noticed you have multiple piercings?”

“Nice change of subject. Because when my hair is down the tops of my ears are covered and I don't always wear flashy earrings in every hole.”

“Hmmm, they look nice,” he leaned over her slightly.

Tock, the head elf entered the room and quietly addressed Narcissa. She caught Lucius's eye. He nodded, “Ladies and gentlemen, my darling wife informs me dinner is served.”

As the dinner guests organized themselves, Marcus offered Hermione his arm. She began to take it when a voice interrupted, “My apologies, Mr. Flint, but I wish to escort Miss Granger this evening, with her permission, of course.” Voldemort smiled politely.

“If Hermione wishes,” Marcus released her.

“Certainly, but don't leave without saying goodbye.”

“As you wish,” Marcus promised.

Voldemort seated Hermione to his left as he took the seat at the head of the table. Lucius sat to his right, Narcissa beside him. Rodolphus sat to Hermione's left with Bellatrix next to him. Hermione didn't recognize anyone else near them. Marcus, Cassius, and Adrian sat with Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and the others closer to their age at the other end. She assumed their parents were somewhere in the middle. She took a deep breath and pulled on her formal manners learned from her Grandmother Granger. She loathed those lessons with the sour-faced old woman, always harping on about protocol and responsibility. Yet, the lessons sank in and stayed. Without needing cues Hermione sailed through the first three courses. Though never introduced through the context of the conversation she began to identify the parents of her classmates, and her new, dare she consider them, friends. The conversation centered around their problems cementing their control at the Ministry.

A large brutish man grunted, “The old ways would have worked wonders, a little intimidation, a murder or two, and bob's your uncle.”

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to keep from making a derisive sound. Instead, she ducked her head, rolled her eyes, and kept eating. However, Voldemort must have been watching for her reaction, “You disagree?”

“With oh so much, history is full of violent tyrants being overthrown by the rabble banding together. But benevolent leaders that gently shaped their expectations with firm, but fair, leadership left empires spanning centuries. At least until their successors become demonic despots who get overthrown,” she smiled sweetly.

“Impossible,” scoffed Crabbe, Sr.

“Thought the Romans until the barbarians were at the gates,” quipped Hermione. “The British treated colonial natives as little more than flunkies and servants, certainly never their equals. The American colonists saw themselves as English citizens. The nobility and military treated them like they did the other colonists- they were to blindly obey. It did not end well for us British.” Crabbe Sr stared blankly at her. “The touted, greatest army in the world got their arses handed them to them by a bunch of angry farmers with pitchforks. I am, of course, glossing over the assistance of the French and the Hussein mercenaries working for the British and numerous other facors. But the point stands, treat your subjects well and they will be content under your rule. Single out a group, make everyone live in fear, they will never stop fighting you.”

“A child like you cannot understand the complexities of war or politics,” MacNair sneered.

“I assure you I understand war quite well after engaging in it for the last seven years. But this entire conversation is moot. I don't care what you do. My opinion was asked, I gave it.”

You don't care?” snorted Avery.

“Not in the least. You can kill each other and sort it out. I do not care.”

“You expect us to believe that?” demanded MacNair.

“I think you'll find, “Mr. MacNair, I don't have to care what you do or do not believe. I don't answer to you.

“Then why are you here?” he asked harshly.

“Because I was asked to dinner,” she resumed eating.

“That is not what I meant.”

“I feel rather overdressed for this inquisition.” She glanced at Rodolphus. She felt him press his leg against hers in support.

“You should watch how you speak to your betters, girl.”

Slowly, Hermione placed her silverware at four and eight on the plate. She raised her head from the table, her brown eyes flashing dangerously. “No one in this room is my better, and poor few are my equals.” MacNair raised his wand but Hermione was faster. Where MacNair sat a large eel now coiled. Hermione looked at Voldemort, “That's your only freebie. Next time I let them hex.”

“Understood,” he nodded. “What are you planning for MacNair?”

She shrugged, “Do you especially need him? Sir Hiss has been complaining he hasn't had fresh eel in a while. I think he might be due a treat.” Bellatrix chortled at her bored tone, she might have been discussing the weather.

“While I cannot disagree with your assessment or intention, could I request you not feed my followers to your familiar?”

She cocked her head to the side considering, “The problem here is that if I back down now, everyone will think me weak and childish.”

“I assure you, Miss Granger,” Lucius spoke up, “no one will be making that mistake anytime soon.”

“Hermione, dear, he won't stain the chair fabric will he?” Narcissa inquired politely.

“No, ma'am. And I suppose I can forgive one of your followers this time.” She flicked her wand. The eel levitated and changed back into a wizard. “But next time it is on.”

MacNair sputtered for a few seconds before composing himself. Voldemort chuckled, “I think apologies are in order.” MacNair straightened looking smug. “Neville?”

“You want me to apologize, my lord? I was turned into an eel!” he protested.

“I'm aware. I was here. I stopped her from feeding you to her familiar. But you attacked my guest, who is under my protection, and you pulled your wand at the table.” He smiled affectionately at Hermione, “Miss Granger defended herself.”

“I apologize for my brash and thoughtless actions.” He directed his apology more towards the Malfoys, but Hermione didn't object. His having to apologize when she did not was victory enough.

The conversation picked back up as people resumed eating. Several mentioned frustrations from minor rebellions at the ministry, trying to cause problems and setbacks for the new regime. And the continued problem of the Order of Phoenix. From safe houses, they continued to encourage resistance and harried the Death Eaters when they could. The diners complained about everything while watching Hermione for a reaction. She kept her attention on the delicious food before her. “The joke shop might make a good target,” someone suggested. Hermione imagined the possible booby traps the twins might have arranged. She couldn't stop the smile spreading across her face.
“Something amusing, pet?” Rodolphus asked.

“Just imaging the possibilities.”

“Of?”

“The traps the twins would have set up in case you attacked. They can be rather ingenious.” She smiled fondly.

“Oh?” asked Voldemort.

“That is so not going to work. And shouldn't you pretend to be at least bothered by the fact I am enjoying your followers' hypothetical pain?”

“I have no plans to order an attack on any business in Diagon Alley, so they are safe.”

“That's nice for them.”

Over dessert, smaller conversations broke out. Voldemort addressed Hermione, “You said make you care. We seem to be failing.”

“Rather spectacularly on most fronts.”

“While I may not be able to make you care for our cause, I can offer you your chance for revenge against those who wronged you.”

“I will consider your offer, thank you.”

Most of the older adults retired to the smoking room or Narcissa's salon after dinner. MacNair made a hasty escape. The younger generation headed for the game room. Hermione thought to go grab Sir Hiss when Marcus grabbed her hand. “Stay, a few people want to meet you.”

She allowed him to tug her along, “But that raises the question, do I want to meet them?”

“Sure. Full disclosure, I don't personally know some of them, but Rabastan asked me to make introductions, so I will. What happens after that, as always, is up to you.”

“You're lucky I like you.”

“After the dinner show, I am inclined to whole hardheartedly agree,” he smiled fondly at her.

Cassius and Adrian waited for them just inside the doorway. Cassius grinned, “I just want to reassure myself that you like me and forgive any inner house rivalry shenanigans from school.”

Hermione blinked, “Because of Parkinson and Higgs, or MacNair?”

“Either, both. We good?”

“We're fine, Cas.”

“That's a relief,” he wiped his brow dramatically.

Chuckling at his mate's antics, Marcus tucked Hermione's hand on her elbow and lead her over to one of the sofas. Two young women sat side by side. Hermione guessed one was closer to her age, the other Marcus's. “Hermione, this is Alexandra Casteen, she graduated from Beaubatons this year. And Vanessa Hawkins, she was homeschooled.” He
smiled at her, “Ladies, this is Hermione Granger.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Alexandra said in an eager voice.

Vanessa held out her hand, “Splendid to make your acquaintance, Miss Granger. And thank you for putting that fool in his place.”

“Glad you enjoyed it.” Both girls scooted apart to make room for Hermione between them.

“When do you expect your ASPIC results?” Alexandra asked.

“The British call them NEWTs. I expect them any day. Possibly next week.”

“Mine should be arriving soon as well.”

Vanessa spoke up, “Do you have any career plans, Miss Granger?”
“Call me, Hermione, please, and no.”

Draco snorted, “Oh, please, Granger. Pull the other one. You've been planning to go help the werewolves and house elves for years.”

“While house elves deserve better treatment, and werewolves do not deserve their treatment, I no longer desire to waste my time and efforts spending years getting nowhere being forced to accelerate the careers of ignoramuses and buffoons, while being petted and trotted out like a show pony. Most of you can get bent.” She looked away from him.

“Oh, please, you won't be a show pony. You're just the Dark Lord's newest darling. Only a matter of time before he gets what he wants and disposes of you,” Draco sneered.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep, Malfoy,” she retorted.

Cassius glared at him, “Knock it off. You don't have to be best friends, but as a host, you should be polite.”

“Thank you, Cas, but Malfoy's opinions matter very little to me. And for us, that was quite civil.”

Hermione made plans to see Alexandra and Vanessa soon. Both girls expressed an interest in muggle fashion and promised to help Hermione organize her jewelry when she mentioned the jumble she left it in.

After bidding them farewell, she turned to Marcus. “I should go collect my familiar. I'm moving to Lestrange Hall after the incident this morning.”

“You have that ugly excuse for a cat here?” asked Goyle.

“No, Crookshanks may or may not be with the Weasleys. I meant my first familiar. The one that chose me when I was 5 or 6.” She turned back to Marcus, “Want to come meet him?”

Jumping at the chance for alone time with Hermione he agreed, “Certainly.” She led him to her former room. “So why Lestrange Hall? I mean, I know Rodolphus likes you, but still.”

“Roddy and Bellatrix's marriage contract stipulates she can't divorce him and he can restrict her extramarital affairs until she produces an heir.”

“Everyone knows that at this point. She isn't quiet about her annoyance.”

“And Bella doesn't want to step down for 10 months. Nor do either of them want to do the parent thing. They picked an adoption ritual and asked me to be Rodolphus's heir,” she shrugged. “They need an heir, I need the protection of a magical family.”

“That's awesome.”

“It doesn't mean I'm any closer to joining his side, just that I'm willing to stay around longer.”

“Did Malfoy Sr and Snape help you today?”

“Yaxley, too. There's just a lot of information to process and go through.”

Sir Hiss waited on the bed, coiled up with his belly showing on one layer. Marcus grabbed her wrist, “Hermione, there's a large snake on your bed.”

“I know, that's Sir Hiss. I thought his name would give him away.” She picked him up. “He's a rainbow snake. They're native to Florida.” Sir Hiss hissed at her. “He says he was sent to England to be a pet. The family dumped him when he got too big. He liked our pond,” she listened again, “and me.”

You can understand him?”

She nodded, “I can.”

“Is parseltongue something you can learn?”

“No, it isn't.” His eyes widened in surprise. She sighed, “Can we talk about this later?”

“I have an away match tomorrow, how about the day after?”

“That should work,” she smiled at him.

“I'll bring take away,” he promised.

“Thanks.”

“Do I get a good night kiss, or will Sir Hiss object?”

“He has no objections, if I have no objections,” she petted the snake's head.

Marcus stepped closer, “Do you have any objections?”

She released Sir Hiss who dropped back onto the bed. “Hmm, no, I don't think I do.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I believe you may have a good night kiss, maybe even two.”

“Two kisses, how generous.” He brushed his lips against hers before pressing against them firmly. She groaned and stepped closer into his embrace. He pulled her closer. Reminding himself her soon-to-be-father waited downstairs he pulled away. “Can't return you too mussed.” She raised a questioning eyebrow. “Lestrange won't take it too well if it looks like I was up here ravishing you.”

“You mean you won't?” she teased.

He pulled her to him by the hips, “Oh, I will, just not tonight with a good as parent below and your familiar watching.”

“I don't know, sounds like a fun challenge to me.”

He kissed her forehead, “Not tonight, not here.”

“Tsk, fine. I'll behave here.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 13 The Mystery Untangles

Hermione nibbled on her toast while flipping through the newspaper. Luna had been truthful, the Death Eater's unchecked reign of terror had ended after they took the Ministry. The occasional skirmish with the Order kept the public on edge. But without random violence occurring, most were waiting for one of the sides to admit defeat. She briefly wished the Death Eaters would accept muggleborns as magical beings, and stop hating muggles out of unfounded fears. She would never bear the mark or probably fight in pitched battle, but the promise of revenge was tempting, and the fate of people like her was still a concern. She looked up as Yaxley entered the dining room. Bellatrix growled at him. He smiled, “Good morning, lovely Bellatrix.”

“Breakfast?” Hermione offered when she realized Bellatrix wouldn't.

“No, thank you. I'm just here to collect you for a field trip to the Hall of Prophecy.”

“Didn't most of those end up destroyed?”

“Only the really old ones and Potter's. The rest were recovered. So, unless the world has been waiting for you for over 1,000 years we should be good.”

“Let me finish eating then. Then I'll collect my glamours.”

Yaxley sat, “Do you have one Boles hasn't seen, or can you make one? I want to see if he can spot one, if the spell has a tell, or if he has picked up any mannerisms that would give you away.”

“Is it wrong that I hope not?” she asked in a conspiratory whisper.

“No, because I want the same thing. Either way, would you consider showing him how you made them? And if you can break them.”

“I'll keep trying.”

“That a girl,” Yaxley praised. He turned to greet Rodolphus as he entered. “Congratulations, your full pardon came through this morning. You are a completely free man, Mr. Lestrange.”

“What about me?” demanded Bellatrix.

“We're having a hard time with some of the neutrals. Apparently, they remember you from before Azkaban, you know, at school.” She growled at him again. “Oi, don't blame the messenger. Be less sociopathic. Bas should be next. We'll keep trying for Bellatrix.”

“The public is okay with this?” inquired Hermione.

“This isn't exactly being advertised, we're reporting this as reformed criminals, who paid their debts to society all that, no names.”

“I see, let me go get dressed and we'll get going.” Yaxley nodded to acknowledge her.

She selected a cream colored sundress and sandals. She added a rope of pearls and hurried back downstairs. Rodolphus sat looking smug next to Yaxley, who glared back, “The point has been made that your current wand is known to the Ministry, and you are still Undesirable #2. Once you're glamoured, Hermione Nevaeh Lestrange will visit Ollivander for a new one. Another test for your glamours, I suppose.”

“Why does Roddy look so pleased with himself?”

“I won the debate on who gets to pay for the wand.”

She looked at them in confusion, “And that is a victory?”

“You have no idea.”

Yaxley rolled his eyes, “Don't you have a glamour to be creating?” Hermione contemplated her options, ultimately deciding to create an image of what the adoption ritual could produce. Wild black curls, dark gray eyes, and sharper features. Yaxley smiled approvingly. “Let's take this for a test run.” He offered her his arm and spun them away.

Hermione looked around, the crowds of shoppers respectable for July. She played her part, pretending to be new, looking around like the surroundings were unfamiliar. Yaxley steered her to the wand shop. Inside he introduced her to Ollivander.

He eyed her carefully, “Welcome, Miss Lestrange. Let us find you your new wand.” He began handing her different wants, watching for a reaction. She felt surprised when her new wand was not vinewood, but acacia with a dragon heartstring core. “Most interesting, Miss Lestrange, acacia wood often refuses to work with any but their owner. They withhold their best efforts from all but the best. In the past, it was called snakewood.”

“Salazar Slytherin had an acacia wand, didn't he?”

The wild haired man grinned madly, “As did his children.”

“Thank you for my wand, Mr. Ollivander.”

“You are most welcome. Have a good day.”

Yaxley offered her his arm, “Shall we, princess?”

“Onto the next, I suppose. Good day, Mr. Ollivander.”

Yaxley escorted her to the public floo in the Leaky Cauldron, “Would you like me to go first?”

“No, I think I'll be safer on my own at the ministry rather than here. He nodded, and she grabbed a handful of powder. “Ministry of Magic,” she vanished in emerald flames.

Stepping from the fireplace, she brushed the soot from her clothing while waiting for Yaxley. He joined her and directed her to the security desk. The unshaven guard mechanically took her wand, weighed it, and handed it back. He barely looked at her. He glanced at Yaxley's employee badge, “Business at the ministry?”

“She's here with me, Munch. Giving a potential intern a tour.” The man nodded and handed Hermione a visitor pass and sat back down behind his desk. Yaxley directed her to the lifts.

“It looks different in the daylight,” she told him as they descended to the Department of Mysteries.

He laughed, “I imagine it does.”

Just outside the department, Peregrine joined them. Yaxley didn't introduce them, something the younger wizard accepted without question, it was the department of mysteries after all. Peregrine did study her suspiciously. “Here are the papers you asked for.”

“Thank you,” Yaxley began reviewing them.

“Nice disguise, Hermione.”

His boss nodded approvingly, “Good job. Peregrine Boles, this is Hermione Lestrange.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Boles.”

“Likewise, Miss Lestrange.”

“Join us,” ordered Yaxley.

Inside the Hall of Prophecy, an employee instructed her to touch the orb by the door. It remained dark. My condolences, or congratulations, there are no prophecies about you.”

“I think, congratulations. Who wants to be part of a prophecy?”

The worker nodded, “True enough, I suppose.”

Yaxley thanked him and the group departed. They made their way to his office. The department secretary handed him several memo paper birds. “Undersecretary Umbridge came looking for you, twice.”

“Thank you,” he gestured for the other two to enter and be seated.

“How is that toad still employed?”

“She's a kiss arse, and someday she will make an excellent scapegoat or patsy. She's still annoyed we scaled back her muggle initiatives. But really, what was she thinking?”

“I suppose that is acceptable, so long as she suffers in the end.”

“I appreciate your approval. Now that we know that is not a title of some kind, I think Morris's theory might be what's going on. We'll start looking into what abilities you might have. Probably should consider a trip to Gringotts in the near future.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Let Roddy know those items he wants will be delivered today.”

“I will,” she promised.

“Boles, would you escort Miss Lestrange to the floos?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Thank you.”

They walked to the lift in silence. Once in the cage, she addressed him, “I know you have questions, but I want to tell Marcus everything first.”

“Understood, you can tell me when you're ready. I am rather patient and excellent at keeping secrets.”

“Thank you.”

“I like this look, it looks the most like you.”

“I combined Roddy and Bellatrix, what I could look like after the adoption.”

“Lovely,” his face fell when he realized how she could interpret that, “not that you aren't pretty as yourself.”

She laughed, “I know what you mean.”

She found Rodolphus brewing a potion in his lab. “I was supposed to tell you about the delivery, but looks like it beat me home.”

“It did. Bellatrix is getting the robes we need. Unless you object, we'll do this tonight.”

“Marcus has an out-of-town match today, we're meeting tomorrow to discuss everything. Might as well have this out of the way and added to the list.”

“Splendid,” he handed her a sheet of instructions. “You need to bathe using the specified soap over there.” He pointed to three bars of lilac soap, one labeled with her name. “And dissolve those herbs in the water. I made you a copy of the ritual.

“I'm on it.”

“Bella will bring your robes up when she returns.”

Hermione asked Maisie to run her bath, pouring the herbs into the hot water. While they dissolved she read over the instructions. She disrobed and lowered herself into the water. Whoever designed the glorious marble soaking device was a genius. The back sloped at the perfect recline angle. The overflow drain sat high enough to allow relaxation while completely submerged. She transfigured a flannel into a pillow and reclined with her eyes closed. She drifted in and out of consciousness until Bellatrix entered with a half knock. “Your robes for tonight. Merlin, I can't wait for this to be finished.” She eyed Hermione, “You're a bit scrawny.”

“Well, being ordered to hand over more and more food to a bottomless stomach you have to obey means smaller portions. I think I'm putting it back on nicely.”

“Sure, sure, whatever. I'll let you wash and dress then.”

“Thank you ever so much, Mummy Dearest.” Bellatrix scrunched her nose at the name but said nothing before leaving. Hermione grabbed the soap bar and began rubbing it against her skin, being sure to cover all skin and wash her hair with the bar. Leaving her undergarments off she slipped into the white silk robes. She hastened downstairs to join her soon-to-be parents.

Rodolphus directed them each to their place in the chalk circle. He pricked their fingers adding three drops of blood into a goblet of wine. He stirred in the potion and murmured over it. “First, we each present Hermione with a family heirloom bearing the family crest, welcoming her into our houses.” He handed Bellatrix a white cloth bundle. “Narcissa sent the family christening gown and blanket.” He held up a ring, “And I have a Lestrange family ring for you.” They each handed the items to her. “Now, we all drink.”

Once they finished Hermione began glowing. Rodolphus nodded, “Right on schedule. Any physical changes will occur over the next three hours.”

“Will it be painful?” asked Hermione.

He frowned, “The text didn't say.”

Bellatrix laughed, “I guess we'll find out.”

For the next three hours, Hermione experienced growing pains, sharp pinches of tightening muscles, a bright flash in her eyes, and a dull ache across her scalp. She examined the results with her new parents. Her curls remained as wild as ever, their new color a dark inky black. Her facial features remained the same, except for the steel gray of her irises. Her feminine curves were more pronounced wide hips, a fuller bust, and still somewhat malnourished waist. “Not too many changes,” Rodolphus remarked. “I would recognize you.”

“Recognized who?” Rabastan entered the room. He gave Hermione a cursory look, then did a double take. “Look at you, love. All done and legally a Lestrange?”

“Magically a Lestrange. The legal stuff is a handful of adoption forms.”

“Yes, well congratulations on your new addition.” He laughed, “They say the first year is the toughest, but I can't imagine you having too many of those problems.”

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, “I'm going to tell the Dark Lord we succeeded. And perhaps celebrate.” She stood and left the room, over her shoulder she called out, “Don't wait up.”

Rodolphus rolled his eyes at her antics. Hermione chuckled, “And that was the last any of them saw of the witch.”

“Would that it was so simple,” Rodolphus replied. “Are you hungry?”

“I know I should be, but not really. Should we finish the paperwork?”

“I already did, all it amounted to was changing your name and our wills to name you our heir.”

“Um, if Uncle Bas isn't busy, could we talk? I don't know how much Lord Voldemort has told you, but I plan on telling Marcus everything, I should tell you, too.”

“I'm free, and even if I wasn't I would drop them for you, pet,” Rabastan promised.

They settled around the table in the small family dining room. “How much do you know?” she asked.

“That he was taking a special interest in you,” Rodolphus told her. “You were wondering if you were under a prophecy. And Dumblefore placed you under obedience charms.”

“Okay, then, here goes, I am able to trace my ancestor back to all four Founders, Circe, and Merlin. Hogwarts, itself, showed me. It labeled me their heir. I am the power mentioned in Harry's prophecy. We've been researching to see if it is a formal title. It does not appear to be.”

“When you say founders?” Rodolphus started to ask.

“All of them,” answered Hermione.

“You are distantly related to the Dark Lord?” questioned Rabastan.

“Yes. He is closer to directly related, but we are still both children of Salazar Slytherin.”

“Amazing,” Rabastan looked stunned, “you linked our family to the Dark Lord without marriage.”

“Yes, well there is more,” Hermione drew their attention back to her.

“Good or bad?”

“Bad. Dumbledore made me forget being a parseltongue and anything that linked my muggle family back to magic. He locked away part of my magic.” Both protested this in anger. “I broke the blocks. Once I know what my place was supposed to be in all of this, I'll decide what I want to do next. It is a lot to think about.”

“It is,” Rodolphus patted her hand. “And we're here to help, let us.”

“I will, I promise,” she paused, “I know one person who will support any decision. May I invite her to visit, please? She knows I left the boys, just not the whys.”

“I will want a wand oath for secrecy,” Rodolphus told her.

She nodded, “I will let her know and make the letter a portkey. Thank you, Roddy.” She frowned, “What should I call you?”

“Roddy or Rodolphus is fine. Father or Dad feels strange at this point.”

“I like Uncle Bas, makes me feel young.” All three laughed.

That evening Hermione sent Luna a note inviting her to visit later that week. The portkey would activate with a wand tap and the code word 'friends.' The blonde replied that she would see her then, and she was pleased to make any oath that would prove to Rodolphus Hermione would remain safe.

-oOoOo-

Anxious about seeing Marcus for the first time after her looks changed, Hermione fussed with her hair and applied and removed her makeup several times. When her insecurities flared up about ulterior motives, she took a deep breath and ticked off all the reasons why that seemed ludicrous. He went for pizza with her. He took her to the ballet. Hell, Bas had invited him, the only part of that he planned was dinner after. He wanted her to meet his friends and encouraged her to get to know them. He came to check on her when she was upset. It didn't feel like he was faking interest. 'Neither did it with Ron,' a nasty little voice in her head sneered. “We are not comparing anyone to Ronald,” she firmly told herself.

Maisie delivered Marcus to the parlor Hermione liked the best. “I see the ritual made some changes, Miss Lestrange.”

“It did,” she managed not to sound self-conscious.

“You look,” he struggled to pick the proper word, “different.” He finished lamely. He sucked at being suave.

“Different good or different bad?”

He shrugged, “Just different. You still look like you with different hair color and different eye color. But, you're still beautiful, still sassy, and still smart. Not much changed. I like the changes, but I liked your old looks.” She sat stunned into silence. He thought she was beautiful before. Marcus thought she was still pretty. Her eyes watered. Misinterpreting her tears, he panicked, falling to his knees in front of her. “Shite. Don't cry. I'm sorry. I'm stupid. Don't be upset.”

“No, no, these are happy tears. I'm still sore about Ron and not seeing through him. It makes me second guess everything. I'm working on that, I promise. And even then Ron never told me I looked nice or was attractive.”

He pulled on a curl, “We all have our insecurities. I know there are others with better looks and silver tongues who always know just what to say. As long as you want me, I'll try to ignore those feelings. And if my feelings change, I'd let you know. I won't string you along, all I can ask is for the same consideration.”

“I can agree to that.”

“Though, to be honest, you made a hell of an impression at 11, so I don't think I will be going anywhere unless you make me.”

She grinned, “Sounds good, I don't have any plans to send you away any time soon.”

He held up a bag of food, “When I let slip I was bringing you food, Mum freaked out and insisted on having the elves make something.”

“Just don't be offended if I don't have much of an appetite.”

“I promise not to pay any attention to your tiny appetite, or at least not any more than I currently do.”

She rolled her eyes, “Okay, stalker.” She patted the couch beside her. “Have a seat. This will take a while. Different people
know different amounts, but I want you to know everything. Then you can hopefully understand how upsetting this is.”

“Okay.” He sat next to her, facing her to give her his full attention.

Sir Hiss curled up on her other side, resting his head on her lap. She petted his head and took a deep breath, “There had always been signs I was different, accidental magic and the like. My parents never really believed me there was a 170cm talking snake in the garden pond, but they indulged my fantasy. They let Sir Hiss remain once they discovered him, but in their minds, he was not a pet, not could actually talk.

“Then I began Hogwarts. I never had friends in the muggle world. I was a know-it-all swot, with a tendency to be bossy. As a child, I had no patience for anyone not intelligent in the way I was. I was terrified I would be behind everyone else, having not grown up with magic. I wanted to belong, I wanted friends.

“The second or third week Dumbledore came across me studying Helga Hufflepuff's family crest on a display. I mentioned feeling like I had seen it, or something similar, once. He asked about it. I mentioned my mother's earrings. Then somehow Sir Hiss was brought up. He raised his wand and I forgot about everything. Before then I loved being girly, maybe not as much as Lavender Brown or Pavarti Patil, but more than I did after.” She paused, shaking her head sadly. “I started studying more, constantly about anything and everything. I became a fanatic. I had been studious before, but never like this, but I didn't realize and no one else knew me before to know better. Halloween night, Harry and Ron saved me from the troll that Quirrell let into the castle. A troll I wouldn't have been in danger from if not for Ron. And for some reason instead of explaining why this was all his fault, I lied! For someone who kind of hated me. Why did I do that?”

“Obedience charms.” Marcus began to feel ill, and he knew they had six more years to go.

“Obedience charms,” agreed Hermione. “He ordered me to make friends with Harry and Ron. And stay friends, no matter how horribly I was treated. Anytime we had a falling out, it was the boys not talking to me, and me desperately trying to make things better. He also ordered me to help Harry with everything he needed, from homework to jumping through Dumbledore's test. And,” she faltered, “put Harry first, even before my own safety.” She blinked several times to clear the tears. “Every time my instincts screamed to get out, don't go, tell an adult, and Harry didn't want to, or didn't wait, I followed.”

Absently, she stroked Sir Hiss. “Second year I spent half the year defending Harry and the other petrified. Did you know no one notified my parents about that? I had to explain why I had all this work to complete over summer break. They nearly withdrew me. I had to beg them not to. I was physically ill because Harry needed me. I had to help him,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “I nearly died again and all I could think was Harry needs me, I have to go back.”

“The next year, on Dumbledore's instructions I pleaded to be allowed to take every single class available.”

“That's impossible,” Marcus protested.

“Not if they give a fourteen-year-old a time turner,” Hermione snarled. “Which the ministry happily did for the sainted Albus Dumbledore.”

Marcus took her hand in both of his, “Why didn't you tell someone?”

She sighed, “Having forgotten about abilities and conversations, I didn't know I was being coerced. He never said 'I order you.' It was 'ask McGonagall to help you take all the electives.' And 'don't tell anyone about these conversations.' I had to obey, even if I didn't agree or know why.

“So, I spent the year stressed beyond measure. Repeating hours constantly, dementors everywhere you went, a werewolf, and that stupid broom. Then Crookshanks chasing Scabbers because he was an animagnus. And Ron being a foul git about it all. ”

“Stupid broom?”

“Harry got a Firebolt from an anonymous person for Christmas. My orders to protect Harry made me tell McGonagall. She took it for testing to make sure it wasn't cursed. Black was out there and we thought he wanted Harry dead at the time. Ron was furious, and Harry always sided with Ron. They refused to talk to me for months, no Gryffindor did.

“And while they weren't talking to me, they also weren't helping Hagrid defend Buckbeak. Which I was working on because Harry told me he needed me to! Harry asking seemed to be the trigger for it to become order I couldn't refuse.” She clenched and unclenched her fist. “We ended the year saving Buckbeak and Black while running from a werewolf and dementor swarm. Again, we nearly died.

“Fourth year I tutored Harry to survive the Triwizard Tournament. I was the unrecognized firth champion. I trained harder than any of them because Dumbledore wouldn't give me a hint of what was needed. I perfected spells years above my own because someone had to teach Harry.

“That was also the year Ginny Weasley started to get chummy. Probably because she is obsessed with Harry and becoming Mrs. Harry Potter. I wonder if she'll mind sharing him with her brother?”

“If she doesn't that's gross.”

“True enough. I think Viktor worried Dumbledore that year. I made time for him. Even with all the extra work, I saw Viktor at least once every day. Sometimes we just worked on our homework sitting together in the library, but not always. And he made me believe I was pretty.”

Marcus slid towards her, reaching up to cup her face with his hand, “I remember you at Yule Ball. You were breathtaking. I remember hating that lucky bastard, professional quidditch player and he could take you to the ball.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “I cannot wait to escort you to a ball.”

She leaned into his hand, “The ballet wasn't good enough?”

“You didn't dance with me.”

“Okay then, dancing next time. Where were we? Yes, Viktor made me feel girly feelings that could expose the obedience charms, but he couldn't order me to not see him, that could have caused the same thing. Viktor once mentioned it seemed like when school was in session I forgot him. I think that was Dumbledore's influence. I stopped regularly writing to him around the start of 6th year. I expect that was Molly grooming me for her son.

“During 5th year the ministry was pretending the Dark Lord hadn't returned, Dumbledore was insane, and Harry was lying for attention. Add to that stress a petulant and moody Harry and Umbridge's reign of terror. Merlin, I hate that toad. I ended up near death again after the fiasco at the Department of Mysteries, with scars this time.” She pulled her shirt aside to show a bit of the puckered scar on her chest. “Intellectually I know that Harry should have been more focused on the fact that his godfather, Sirius Black, had just died, but emotionally, I would have liked him to at least expressed concern over my recovery. But nothing all summer, even after he joined us at the Burrow. I had to go there so my recovery could be overseen by magical people. For some reason no one could come to me.

“That Christmas Sirius gave me an emergency port key to an island the Black family owns. So I could protect Harry, my continued survival would be an unintended bonus.

“I don't know when Molly Weasley was added to the obedience spell, but I know she started ordering me about during that summer. I started noticing Ron, imaging I could fancy him, and I had no idea why. And instead of me, he dated Lavender Brown. He delighted in rubbing his relationship with her in my face.

“While Ron got to have fun, and Harry got six or seven pensieve lessons about Voldemort, Dumbledore had me killing myself studying all manner of subjects.” She scrubbed her face with her hands. “Harry said it took Dumbledore so long to tell him because he wanted Harry to have a childhood. He didn't give me the same consideration.

“I think Molly added Ron after the events of 6th year. He didn't ask me to date him so much as he told me to.

“I did, and I fell in love with the facade. Not that it would have mattered. Ron would have told me to marry him, and Molly would have made me ignore his affairs. I would have started to slowly die a little more every day. And no one would notice or care. Obedience charms cause the casters to become colder and indifferent to the victim. Because how could you do that to someone you love or at least care for?”

“I am so sorry.” Marcus had no idea what else to say.

“While we were on the run, nothing I did was ever good enough. There was never enough food. Camp cooking wasn't Molly's mega meals. Ron doesn't feel comfortable enough in the muggle world, so he refused to hide there, or let us at least resupply there. And wearing that damned cursed item didn't help his moods.”

She paused and shifted closer to Marcus. Instinctively, he turned her around and pulled her back to his chest. They sat spooning in silence for a few heartbeats before she continued. “The spell broke when I found them fucking in my bed! Two beds of their own to do it in but they had to defile my bed! I never got to do anything in my bed but sleep. I ran. The memory block broke when I saw my mother's earrings again.”

She didn't bother to stop the tears, “I don't know if anyone will ever really understand how horrible Dumbledore was. He made an insecure little girl from the muggle world even more of an outcast. He twisted everything thing in my personality. All I wanted to do was study. I had a compulsion to dislike jewelry and fashion. He made me believe I was ugly. That my only worth was my brain, and even then only if I was helping Harry.” She felt the tears falling onto their joined hands. Marcus's arms tightened around her.

“I still have no words.”

“I don't need any. I wanted to you know and maybe start to understand.”

“I think I do.” He rubbed up and down her arm. “How are you feeling?”

“Angry. How many others did he do this to? How could any adult be okay using children like he did? What tale did he tell Molly Weasley to make her want to enslave me?” She squeezed his hand. “How many others ignored the warning signs? How many kept silent when their questions could have stopped it? And why?” She surged to her feet. “And why me? What was so horrible about me at eleven that I deserved to have my free will chained to another's. Is it was because I am a mudblood? My parents didn't have a way to stop him? Or this power thing from the prophecy? Why am I the disposable cannon fodder and Ronald Weasley wasn't?”She pulled away, standing. She hugged herself.

“Since Dumbledore is dead, I don't think we'll ever have answers.” He tried to comfort her.

She whirled, “He has a portrait.”

Marcus frowned, “He does.”

“I wonder if Snape would let me talk to him?”

“Do you want to hear him confirm your fears?”

“I want to know what all he did, who he did it to, who knew, and who suspected.”

“Do you want to go ask him now?”

She flopped back down next to him, “No, I think I want to spend time with you right now.”

“I like that plan. Do you want to try to eat?”

“Not yet. Tell me about your quidditch match.”

“Don't you hate quidditch?”

“I hate nonstop quidditch talk. I think my hatred of quidditch was hating that Harry was in danger and I couldn't save him. I enjoyed the World Cup and the games I went to for Viktor.”

“What happened between you and Krum?”

“We went to Yule Ball. I was his hostage to rescue. I visited him that summer and the next. We never defined anything. We're still friendly. I should write him.”

“Nah, no need to reconnect with a famous ex-boyfriend,” Marcus tried to sound light, but inside he seethed at the idea. He felt insecure enough around his friends, and he knew they were mostly playing.

“Not even an ex-boyfriend. I'm not sure a handful of kisses and a little below the clothes action counts as a relationship.” Marcus growled his annoyance. “Did you just growl?” she sounded amused.

He pulled her onto his lap. “I don't know, does a date or two and some kisses count as a relationship?”

“That depends on the people involved,” she wiggled around until she straddled his lap. He lightly rested his hands on her hips. “Viktor was older and lived far away. It would have been unfair to both of us. We agreed not to be a couple.” She ground her hips down against him. “Do you want to be a couple, Marcus?” She leaned forward to nibble the tip of his ear. “Do you want me to be YOURS?” she breathed across his ear.

His hands tightened their grip on her hips. “Salazar, yes, mine. Be mine,” he whispered back.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning down to capture his lips with hers. Instantly, he responded and dominated the kiss. One hand skimmed up her back to twist in her hair. The other moved to grope her arse. She moaned into his mouth and circled her hips down against his. They continued to snog in this manner until Maisie popped into the room. “Eep! Pardon, mistress, but master's dark master is here to see mistress.”

“Thank you, Maisie. Please tell him we'll be right there.” She rested her forehead against his, “Sorry.”

He kissed her gently, “Don't be. We needed to stop anyway. I don't want you to take a step because you're emotionally fragile, or I'm being a jealous brute.”

She smiled down at him, “My brute.”

“You know it, little dove.”

“Feel more secure?” She stood up, smoothing her hair. “For the record, I've considered us a couple since Luxembourg.” She smiled nervously, “I hope that's okay?”

“You're the catch here, Hermione, not me.”

“Oh, look you caught me. Want to come see Voldemort with me?” She offered him her hand.

“I can,” he took her hand and stood.

Content her appearance was as neat as it was going to get at the moment, she led Marcus to Rodolphus's study. Both men stood when she entered. “My dear, Bella was correct, your new coloring suits you. You look lovely. Don't you agree, Flint?” Voldemort asked.

“She looks as beautiful today as she did last week,” Marcus shrugged.

“Excellent answer, my boy.” Voldemort retook his seat gesturing for them to be seated as well. “Worsley reports the NEWT results should be released tomorrow. Severus gave him the paperwork needed to combine Hermiones Granger, Spartis, and Lestrange into one entity. I wanted to let you know and request you join me for breakfast tomorrow. I would like to see you open them.”

Hermione acknowledged the favor, “Thank you.”

“All I ask in return is tomorrow you allow me to accompany you and the Lestranges to Gringotts.”

She nodded, “I would have agreed to that regardless of favors rendered.” She ducked her head shyly, “Though speaking of favors I wish to ask for one, more from Professor Snape than yourself.”

“You don't need to ask my permission to ask my followers questions or favors. I think you'll find they will refuse you little.”

“I want to question Albus Dumbledore's portrait. I want answers. I need a way to keep him from escaping or dodging my questions. I want to make him look me in the eye and tell me why, or prove the coward and refuse.”

“I will let Severus know you wish to speak to him and ask around for methods.”

“I appreciate your assistance.”

“I promised to help you get revenge, did I not?”

“You did.”

He gave her a half-smile, “There you go. Well, I shouldn't take up any more of your time. Thank you for indulging me, Rodolphus. Good evening, Miss Lestrange, Mr. Flint.”

Marcus elected not to stay as well, “Training begins bright and early.”

“Of course, I understand.” She embraced him.

“Montague said to bring you over in the evening if you wanted. Start expanding your social circle past that bunch.”

“That sounds acceptable.”

“You are so adorable when you talk formal,” he pecked her nose.

Rodolphus cleared his throat, “I have zero interest in watching you paw at my daughter, Flint. Good evening.”

“Good evening, Lestrange. Good night, little dove.”

“Good night, Marcus,” she pressed her lips against his briefly. “Pick me up around seven?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He left the room.

Hermione turned to Rodolphus, “Good night, Roddy.”

Chapter Text

Hello, darlings! I hope you are all having a lovely Saturday. I am iced in for the third day because it sleeted for 16 hours. My yard looked like a bright snow covered space, but it is a LIE! That is 4 inches of ICE. My tires are trapped in it. (Yes, I am a bit bitter. It was suppose to become snow and be 4 inches of that. I can escape snow.) But, we have electricity and internet, so I should probably be grateful and stop complaining. Anyway, ignore my ranting and enjoy.

Chapter 14

Maisie woke Hermione early the next morning. “Potion Headmaster Snape is asking for mistress to join him downstairs, please.”

“Certainly. Tell him I'll be down as soon as I finish getting dressed.”

“I shall have Potion Headmaster wait in the morning room.”

“Thank you, Maisie.” Deciding Snape had seen her at nearly her worst, she felt no need to dress up for company, especially company she hadn't invited over at 6 am. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and made her way to the first floor. “Good morning, headmaster. To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence this morning?”

Snape stood when she entered the room and remained standing. “The Dark Lord notified me you wished to speak with Albus's portrait. I wish to discuss your parameters and desires from this,” he sighed, “and spare you the headache, if possible. You have suffered enough because of that man.”

“I appreciate that, but I want him to have to tell me to my face that Harry's, Ron's, even Draco's lives all mattered more than mine. What it was about me that made me disposable?”

“He will never be truthful to the last. And you will not like the truth.” Snape told her quietly.

“That I was a muggleborn, no one important would miss me? Like everyone else, dispensable as a tool, to be used and discarded once used up? I know about his prejudices, anyone paying enough attention should. I want justice or at least vengeance. To get that I need to know who sinned for him.” She expressed a stray thought, “Is there a way to force portraits to tell the truth?”

“They cannot ingest truth serum.”

“But a field that compels the truth? Or a potion added to the paint?”

“That is a possibility. Allow me to conduct a few experiments.”

“Would you like to stay for breakfast?”

“No, thank you. I have eaten, and you are expected at the Manor. Can't have you upsetting Lola by not devouring her pasties.”

“Perish the thought, sir.”

Unable to return to sleep, Hermione showered and dressed for breakfast with Voldemort and the Malfoys. Refusing to admit the nearing end of summer, she chose a lilac colored skater dress. She selected the gold Hufflepuff earrings that started her woes a decade ago. She read through the one of her suggested books until she judged it late enough to depart.

Downstairs she found the rest of the household waiting for her. “NEWT Day, the Dark Lord wishes to revel in the real time reveal.” Rabastan teased her.

“You'd think they were his results the way he's carrying on,” Bellatrix glared at Hermione.

“Now, Mummy Dearest, your lover is simply expressing an interest in your daughter.” Bellatrix rolled her eyes and her husband silently herded them into the floo.

The Lestranges were not the only ones invited that morning, Theo and his father sat next to the Malfoys, as well as the Goyles and Crabbes. Hermione forced on a mask of polite indifference and ate slowly, hiding her nerves. Even if she descended from powerful wizards, she didn't learn magic was real until she had been alive for a decade. Being the top of her class would be a coup, especially with all of the disruptions being Harry's friend created. The elves admitted five barn owls. Further up the table, Crabbe and Goyle paled and stopped eating. Theo took his envelope with trembling fingers. Draco made a production of opening his envelope.

Ignoring his theatrics, Hermione accepted hers and quietly opened her results. She allowed herself a small smile. All Os. A small notation congratulated Hermione Neveah Lestrange on scoring the highest Charms results ever and tying for the highest Transfiguration score.

She looked up to see Rodolphus and Rabastan's attention fixed on her. She handed the letter to Rabastan seated next to her. “Circe's tits, little witch! There's smart and then there's astonishing, fuck!” His outburst interrupted Draco lamenting McGonagall's bias against Slytherins. All eyes looked to Rabastan, causing him to flush slightly, though he did not apologize. He passed the letter to his brother before addressing the rest to the table. “Full marks and the highest scores for Charms and Transfiguration, ever.”

“Tied for Transfiguration,” Hermione corrected.

“Not with anyone else testing at this time,” he shot back. “This calls for a reward. Do girls your age still want ponies?”

Draco looked confused, “How do you even have NEWT results?”

“I took them, obviously,” she looked at him like he was gum stuck to her shoe.

“When? How? All the homeschooled students had to test at Hogwarts.”

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed, “you're smarter than this, Malfoy.”

“You wore a disguise.”

“And used a fake name, Hermia Spartis. Professor Snape added me to the graduation rolls and updated it when I changed my name.” She flashed him a mean grin, “And, oh look, the mudblood beat you again.”

“Aunt Bella and Uncle Rod adopted you, you're a pureblood now,” he retorted hotly.

She looked straight at Voldemort, “And doesn't that just suggest a solution to your problems?”

“They still haven't been raised in our ways,” Goyle Sr protested.

“Then educate them!” snapped Hermione. “Both myself and your Dark Lord were not raised in our ways, yet we have no issues navigating them. Eleven is old enough to begin learning.” She looked back to Voldemort, “And if you don't rein in Umbridge and her misuse of that registration of hers I will deal with her myself. You might not be rounding them up anymore, but she's still stealing wands and not returning them.”

Crabbe Sr frowned, “Madame Umbridge is a distinguished, vital member of the ministry.”

“Look me in the eye, with a straight face, and tell me that everyone at this table agrees she is respected and needed and I will drop the matter.”

When he made eye contact, she slipped into his mind, and not liking what she found, pushed her power to mentally stab him. “Argh. She just invaded my mind!” He glared at her.

“And you were imaging me in various states of undress to keep a straight face.” She glared back. “Learn to defend yourself better.” She resumed eating. “And if you keep doing that my boyfriend might want a word.”

“Boyfriend?” Rodolphus questioned quietly.

“Marcus,” she gave him a look that suggested he should have known that.

“Made things official, did you?”

“Same as you really, you both acted the parts, you just needed the official title, too.” Hermione flashed a toothy grin as Rabastan laughed at Rodolphus's hrmph of annoyance.

“Congratulations to all of you on your results. Britain has a bright future before it.” Voldemort toasted them with his pumpkin juice. The adults followed suit.

After breakfast, Hermione and her parents, Yaxley, and a disguised Voldemort prepared for Gringotts. They planned to add Hermione as an heir, combine her identities and bank vaults, and claim any inheritances.

The large marble columns never failed to impress Hermione. It was as if they shrank in her memory, only to impose their true size upon her when she entered the bank. Meekly she followed the others as Rodolphus announced their needs to a teller. The teller then summoned an account manager. Rathgar greeted them politely. “Does sir have a preference for the order of business?”

“My associates asked to join us for the inheritance magic. It has long been an interest of his. Our adopted daughter may have some inheritances to claim from lineages that fell into squib lines. He has no interest in the rest. Would it be an inconvenience to start there?”

“Not at all. If you would follow me to the conferences rooms.” The short banker directed them away from the tellers and vaults. “Please be seated. I will collect the necessary tools. They are not kept here.” The group filed in and waited for Voldemort to select a seat at the round table, before joining him. He gestured for Hermione to sit next to him. Bellatrix rushed to take the other.

Rathgar returned with a thick stack of parchment and a quill that resembled Umbridge's blood quill.

“This won't scar will it?” she asked uncertainly.

Rathgar looked horrified, “No, miss, It pulls a small drop of blood to verify your identity. Just a prick. Should it create any damage I will heal you instantly. You just have to sign.”

“Does it have to be my name?” she asked curiously.

The goblin looked at her with surprise, “I suppose not, why?”

She shrugged, “Just wondering.” She gripped the quill properly and signed her new name.

As the information began to appear, the goblin paled, “Please excuse me, this is beyond me.” He scurried away. Returning moments later with two older-looking goblins, he introduced them, “May I present Ogbert, Head Goblin, and Snaglerk, Head of Ancient Accounts. Esteemed sirs, Miss Hermione Lestrange formerly Granger.” Hermione mirrored their nods with her own regal head dip. “Miss Lestrange is here to claim her legacies from the estates of Aeaeais, Emrys, and the Hogwarts Four.”

“Gringotts bids welcome to the heir of the Four. Your ancestors set aside a special legacy for a time when their lines would combine in such a manner,” Ogbert announced.

“May I ask why, if you know?”

“Slytherin said it was to ensure their successors did not hoard knowledge from one another in a petty manner.”

“Interesting, as he was the one who left the others over differences of opinion,” Rodolphus said.

“Indeed,” added Voldemort.

Snaglerk placed a thin tome on the table. “This volume links to the journals of the Founders. All of them. You will notice the differing colored pages, each begins a new section. On the first page, you write a topic and it will pull the related information into each Founder's section.”

“Astonishing,” Hermione breathed in awe.

“If you will write your name on the inner cover with our quill,” requested Ogbert. As she obeyed, he explained, “This ties the tome to you and you alone. It can only be bequeathed to your offspring, as your blood will flow through them.”

“Incredible,” Yaxley said. When he picked up the tome, the words disappeared. “Even the ability to read it is tied to you.”

Snaglerk stepped forward, “We will combine the monetary contents of the three vaults with that of Hermione Granger under her new name. These items are for your immediate review, per the instructions on the vaults.” He placed a hood and crystal wand on the table. “The Hood of Merlin may only be claimed by a descendant of impure blood adopted into a pureblood family, a more common occurrence during his lifetime. The wand of Circe may only be inherited by a female. I apologize that we cannot tell you more about these items.”

“I understand,” Hermione assured them.

“The last item we have for you is the signet ring of the House of Aeaeais, which like the wand can only be worn by a daughter of the house. We will be notifying our Greek branch that the house walks amongst us again. May we express your willingness to be approached?”
“They may make contact. I do not promise to respond depending on their tone.”
Ogbert bowed, “I will express your concerns. We leave you in the capable hands of Rathgar to complete the remainder of your business.”
The older goblins departed.

Hermione looked over the items while Rodolphus and Bellatrix filled out paperwork. The black silk cowl looked dull in the light. The lightweight material felt cool to her touch. With a grin at Voldemort, she slipped the hood over her head. The world faded to gray. The others' forms were outlined in gold light, as were the two guards posted outside the door. She pulled back the hood, uncovering her face, “Why are there guards outside?”

Rathgar blinked in surprise, “Standard procedure. Those items are priceless. There are those who would demand you hand them over for study. Gringotts hopes to have a positive relationship with you, Miss Lestrange. You will always be protected in Gringotts holdings.”

“That is a novel idea for me. Thank you.” The goblin returned his attention to the paperwork.

Hermione eyed the crystal wand. Voldemort spoke up, “The ancient Greeks used crystal and metals for wands. They are very conductive materials for magic. This one appears to be amethyst and electrum.” The ten inch plum gemstone wand reminded Hermione of a unicorn horn, the electrum set down in a groove spiraling up the length of the wand. “Well, pick it up. Give us a flick. See if it accepts you. They can be fickle.”

Warmth, joy, and a feeling like a strong hug enveloped her as she raised the wand. Silently she cast a lumos spell. Blinding light glowed from the wand tip. “I think it likes me.”

“I'll say,” laughed Yaxley.

“I think I'll stick to my wood wand for my day-to-day needs.”

“Excellent plan,” Voldemort advised. The goblins presented her with a velvet lined mahogany box for her new wand.

-oOoOo-

Luna embraced Hermione the second she stepped from the fireplace. “Chose a road?”

Hermione hugged her back, “Maybe not in the sense you mean. But I did find a way to protect myself.”

“Your aura changed, blood adoption? Because marriage wouldn't change it that much, and you would never get married without inviting me.” Luna carried on in her usual airy manner.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“You seem relaxed and content. If blood adoption did that, I think it is a good thing.”

“Rodolphus and Rabastan have been simply wonderful. Bellatrix not so much. But now that Roddy has an heir she's free to come and go as she pleases.”

“So what now, then?”

“Before the plan was to finish learning and retreat to Black Island. Now, maybe not. I still don't support the idea of genocide, especially since it seems muggleborns are descended from squibs.”

“But?” Luna said leading Hermione to nearby seating.

“But I discovered some things I can't dismiss. Dumbledore put obedience charms on me first year. One that made me consider Harry's safety and well-being above my own. And another to study anything and everything. Studiousness was already in my nature, but he made it everything. He removed any interest in fashion, cosmetics, or even my appearance. He made an eleven-year-old believe her only value was her knowledge, and that she never knew enough. He made me think of myself as plain, not even interesting enough to be ugly.”

“That's horrible.”

“Worse he added Molly Weasley to the charm.”

“Why?”

“I don't know, though he had to know he was dying that last year. And one of them added Ron.”

“Molly,” Luna replied flatly.

“Why though?”

“So you'd stay with him no matter how horribly he treated you, or how often he cheated.”

“He and Harry are fucking each other's brains out on the regular.”

“Molly hated Lavender, but according to Lav, she and Ron kept hooking up until you all left.”

“She can have him.” Hermione scrubbed her face with her hands. “I want to confront Dumbledore's portrait for answers. Snape is looking into a truth potion to add to the paint. But we need a way to keep him in the frame, like Walburga Black, no one in and no one out.”

“Yes,” Luna agreed with a gleefully grim grin, “Daddy told me how she did it, or rather how Orion did it.”

“Luna, I am going to have to find you the perfect birthday gift.” They both laughed.

Rabastan poked his head in, “Do I hear the laughter of beautiful women?”

“You hear our laughter,” Hermione answered.

“You could have just said yes.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Were you just popping in or did you want something?”

“Just popping in to investigate the sounds of joy. Hello, dear, I'm Hermione's new Uncle Bas, and you are?”

“Uncle Bas, this is Luna Lovegood. Luna, my uncle.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Luna dimpled.

“Likewise.” Later Rabastan would remark how much he “liked the blonde.”

Luna sent Hermione the information her father had on the locking spells. As much as the Ravenclaw had suffered from bullying under Dumbledore's watch, she thought Hermione had suffered more. She wanted her friend to her answers, even if could be in danger once Dumbledore was free from his portrait. He might inform the Order about her involvement. And she still had a year of school left with vengeful types like Ginny Weasley. It would be best for her if no one knew of her new allegiance. Hermione was determined to keep Luna's involvement from him.

Phinneas Nigellus Black agreed to help Snape test his potion so long as his questions remained respectable and Hermione returned his portrait to Grimmauld Place. Bee assured her Kreacher would allow her to deliver the portrait. Phinneas swore to remain out of sight to keep from alerting anyone of his freedom from Hermione's bag. After some trial and error, Snape created a formula that had the potency of three drops of veritaserum and lasted for six hours, far longer than Hermione hoped to need. “I will leave my personal floo open at 9 am Saturday. Please remain in my private chambers until I come to collect you. Once I am assured the nosy gits are occupied we can begin.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15 Hermione Gets Some Answers

Saturday morning Hermione flooed into Snape's quarters as instructed. Wishing to respect his privacy she sat in one of the wing chairs in front of the fireplace. She pulled the Founders' Journal from her ever present beaded bag. She had been pleased to note that a new section for her own research had appeared. She intended to add Snape's portrait truth varnish with his permission. His brilliance needed to be recorded. She also recorded how Orion Black trapped his wife's image in one frame.

Snape joined her once breakfast ended. “Why so many of them insist on living here year round is beyond me,” he groused.

“You do.”

“Yes, well, Spinner's End is no servant filled castle. And my potions lab there is the size of my bathroom here.”

“Fair enough,” she shrugged.

“I admit surprise that you are no raiding my bookshelves.”

“You invited me into your home to wait. Perusing without an invitation felt like a violation of your trust.”

He blinked, “Feel free to look through whatever you like. Nothing dark and foreboding here.”

“Thank you, headmaster.” She glanced over at the shelves lining three of the four walls.

“Please, call me Snape or Severus. I feel we are about to become more intimately acquainted.”

“As I intend to demand answers about decades of bullying, I concur with your assessment. Call me Hermione, Severus.”

"Shall we begin? I started the runes but left off the last one to avoid suspicion. Albus was snoring away when I came up.”

“Let's go wake him, shall we?” Together they descended into the Headmaster's office. Free of Dumbledore's hoard of muggle knickknacks and magical spying devices, the space was both professional and imposing. Snape was not a touchy-feelie man, nor would he be a touchy-feelie headmaster. “I like what you've done with the place.”

“Why, thank you, Hermione. May I suggest you wait on the stairs? Wouldn't do to have the others alerting him of your presence too soon.”

Dumbledore stirred as Snape chalked the locking rune, “What are you doing, my boy?”

“Keeping you in place for what comes next,” Snape began coating the canvas with this potion.

“What comes next? What are you talking about?”

Snape ignored him, instead watching the clock. At the ten-minute mark, he looked back to the portrait. “Were you and Gellert Grindelwald lovers?”

Dumbledore frowned, annoyed with the question, then surprised himself by answering the question, “We were briefly.” Wide-eyed he started at Snape in horror, “What have you done, Severus?”

“Ensured that you will answer questions honestly. Don't worry, the effect wears off in about six hours.” Dumbledore moved to his right and crashed into the frame. “And you're locked in your frame until I erase the runes. So, you might as well sit back and get comfortable. I plan to.” He moved his chair to give himself the best view.

“Severus, I really must protest,” Dumbledore began.

“Severus isn't in charge here, old man,” Hermione emerged from the darkened stairwell. “Hello, Albus.”

Dumbledore's jaw dropped. He opened and closed his mouth several times. “Miss Granger! Where are Harry and Mr. Weasley?”

“Don't know, don't care. We're not here to talk about them, well, not directly anyway.”

“Why would you abandon them on your quest? Harry needs you.”

“Actually, from what I saw when I left the only thing Harry needed was to shove his dick up Ron's arse while on my cot. And he could do that without me just fine. Did you know Harry and Ron were gay before forcing me into a relationship with Ron?”

“I believe they are both bisexual,” he twinkled.

“Did you know they were both fucking each others' brains out?”

Dumbledore struggled against the spell, wishing to object to her language and be vague in his wording. He failed, “I did.”

“Then why did you have me date him?”

“To remove the distraction Mr. Krum posed. Molly thought Ron would be the better option.”

Grounding her teeth she changed gears, she couldn't afford to give in to the anger this early, “Why did you bind my memories at eleven?”

“A parseltongue muggleborn possibly descended from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw in Gryffindor would have brought unwanted attention.”

“For me?” she leaned forward, her words cold, “or for you?”

“For me. You could be the fabled Heir of the Founders. I needed to control any powers you had and when you discovered them. You needed to see me as your hero.”

“I am that heir. And parseltongue is the only power I inherited. Something I share with Harry. I could have comforted him that he wasn't alone in second year. Did you do that on purpose?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“A lonely angry Harry was easier to control.”

“Why did you put an obedience charm on me?”

“To make sure you had the knowledge Harry needs to complete his destiny. To make sure you did what I wanted, in the manner I planned.”

“Why not make Harry study all the time?”

“He already had so much on his shoulders. He needed to be able to enjoy what time he could.”

“And I didn't?” Hermione clutched her fists in rage.

“You rose the challenge admirably.”

Sighing, she acknowledged to herself he believed that. She changed topics. “Why did you make me believe I was ugly and unlovable?”

“To keep you from getting distracted. Harry needed you. Ron would help keep you on task.”

“Why did you give Molly Weasley control over me?”

“I knew my time was coming to an end. Obedience charms break either because of intense emotion or the death of the caster. I needed to make sure you stayed committed to the task. She didn't balk at the idea of the charm, and because it meant she could use you to hide Ron's wandering ways.”

“You mean his infidelities, you sacrificed my happiness and mental well-being for the greater good, or rather your idea of the greater good.”

“Yes, I did,” he replied matter of factly.

Sensing his lack of remorse, she changed topics. “Why did you ignore the bullying that goes on all the time?”

“That wasn't bullying, just youthful hijinks. Oh, the exuberance of youth.”

“Ravenclaws stealing all of Luna Lovegood's belongings? The war between Severus Snape and the Mauraders? The constant harassment of Slytherins to anyone, not a pureblood? That was all youthful hijinks? Do you hear yourself?” She tried to take a few deep soothing breaths, before jumping to the first topic that popped into her head.

“What have your erased from Severus's memory?”

“Lily insisted on patching up their friendship before they went into hiding. She didn't want either of them having regrets.”

She continued to jump from topic to topic, feeling more and more frazzled by his lack of regret and her anger. “Did you know Sirius was innocent?”

“I did.”

“Why didn't you demand a trial for him? Why leave him in Azkaban?”

Dumbledore looked sad, “I never could get an obedience spell to stick due to the ones his parents applied. Without one he would never have let me sacrifice Harry.”

“And just why does Harry have to be sacrificed?”

“He's a horcrux. He has to die to render Voldemort mortal.”

So, had I not broken your spell completing Harry's mission would have driven me insane?”

“I hoped that he would survive.”

“Your hope? Your hope? Before or after I went insane?” she seethed.

“I don't believe you would have gone insane, Miss Granger, perhaps had an intense form of survivor's guilt, maybe.”

Annoyed, she switched topics again. “Did you know Pettigrew had switched sides?”

“I had my suspicions.”

“Could you have saved James and Lily at the end?”

“I have no idea.”

“Would you have, if you could?”

“No, their deaths made all that followed easier. The prophecy needed to be fulfilled.”

“Have you ever cared about the fate of any of the people you controlled beyond how it benefited you?”

“No, but that is the nature of those spells.”

“Do you regret any of it?”

“I regret Arianna's death.”

“You played with countless lives, and all you regret is one death, you monster!” she screamed.

“She was innocent,” he smiled at her faintly, as if that explained it all.

He was insane. That was all there was to it. Taking several deep breaths through her nose, she forced herself to calm down. Her rage would change nothing. And she needed answers, “How many members of the Order of the Phoenix knew you used obedience charms?”

“Oh, several, I should think.”

“Which ones?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“Molly, of course, Arthur, though he never liked it. Moody didn't always approve.”

“None of them protested, or demanded you stop?”

“No, I convinced them it was the greater good. Or any professors that suspected were not able to object under their oaths to support the headmaster.”

“Who were you controlling when you died?”

“You, Severus, Remus, Kingsley, and Tonks.”

“Did anyone else suffer directly because of your delusions of a greater good?”

“Augusta Longbottom ended the fidelus charm earlier than Frank and Alice wanted because I suggested it.”

“Could Neville have been the Chosen One?”

“Of course, Augusta has spent nearly two decades keeping his abilities suppressed to make sure no one considered him a threat.”

“Did you encourage her?”

“I did. The prophecy was about Harry Potter, no need murking up the waters.”

“What do we need to know that you never told us?”

“When the horcruxes are destroyed the soul fragment returns to Voldemort.”

“Could Harry and Voldemort coexist without one of them having to kill the other?”

“Neither can die while the other survives, Miss Granger.”

“Nice dodge, so yes. Why Kingsley and Tonks?”

Dumbledore blinked at the change of the subject, but it was the only way to keep herself calm. “Sometimes what I wanted them to do was against their professional and ethical views.”

“Who gave you the authority to use us like puppets?”

“I was the only one able to see the big picture properly.”

“Of course, you think you were. You hoarded information, doling out just enough for us to puzzle out what you wanted.” She narrowed her eyes, “Did you transfer control of anyone else?”

“Only you to Molly.”

“Who added Ron, you son of a bitch.”

He sighed, “That is unfortunate.”

“No, what's unfortunate, at least for you, is that I broke your spell. I know who I am. I know my part in the prophecy, and I leveled the playing field. Harry Potter no longer has the power, and the Dark Lord knows what it is.”

“No! Miss Granger, return to Harry at once. Protect him with your life.”

Watching from the side, Severus recoiled from the bitter, mirthless harsh laughter issuing from his former student. No one so young should sound like that. “Didn't you hear me? I. Broke. The. Spell. And as an animate image of a dead man you lack the magic to cast it again. Nor will I ever allow anyone to enslave me again.” She whirled to face Severus, “I say we burn the painting. Barring that let's lock him in there and cover it so we never have to see it again.”

“I am hesitant to destroy our only link to his knowledge. We may need it again.”

“You're right, I know you're right, and still.”

“Some say the best revenge is living well, Hermione. You have a new family, a boyfriend if I understood Rodolphus's rantings. Embrace your new life, find real happiness with people who are not keeping secrets from you.”

“New family?” bristled Dumbledore.

“Your greater good forced me to send my parents away. They are gone. Rodolphus and Bellatrix adopted me.”

“Miss Granger, I urge you to reconsider your choices. They are using you!”

“Like you did?”

He struggled to deny it, “Yes.”

She shrugged, “I fail to see the difference then. And my name is Hermione Lestrange.” She turned to Snape, “Would you like to meet Monday to discuss adding your potion to the Founders' Journal and make rational plans about He-Who-Is-Annoying-Usf?”

“Will you be rational by then?”

“Who says I'm not rational now?”

“Fair enough, I suppose that works, say around 10 o'clock?”

“Sounds delightful.” She departed, ignoring Dumbledore's frantic orders to stop and return.

The last thing she heard was Severus snapping at him, “Be silent. You made this bed, now they have to lie in it. Yes, they, Albus, After hearing the insanity spewing from you I
continue to feel confident in my choice to be on her side.”

She smiled as she exited the floo, her side. That sounded doable. She wasn't neutral. Neutral people didn't care who won. She wanted the winner to benefit her. Still riding the adrenaline high of her anger she spun around and flooed to Malfoy Manor. “Bee.”

“Miss Hermy! How can Bee be helping?”

“Is the Dark Lord here?”

“He's be in his study? I announce you.”

“First bring me veritaserum Headmaster Snape brewed, then announce me.” The elf bobbed her head and scurried away. She returned with a small potion bottle. Once she popped away that time, Hermione began to make her way towards the study. She knocked and entered when invited in.

“Good afternoon, my dear. What brings you here?” Voldemort remained behind his desk, but put aside the papers giving her his full attention.

“Severus and I questioned Dumbledore today. I doubt I know all his disgusting secrets, but I know enough.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Now I want answers from you.”

“Ask away,” he leaned back in the chair. She placed the vial on the desk. “I see.”

“Two drops. I want the whole truth, but I will let you select your phrasing.”

“You don't trust me?”

“With the amount of power winning the war will give you? No, I don't trust anyone.”

“Smart girl.” He picked up the vial and let three drops fall on his tongue. “You have earned the ugly truth.”

She waited for the potion to take effect. “Are you capable of love?”

“I do not know. During my formative years, no one showed me any. Even today, I am not sure. Bella worships me, but it does not resemble the affections Lucius and Narcissa share. I have never been inclined to try.”

“Would you swear an unbreakable oath to my terms if it meant my full cooperation?”

“If I agreed to them, yes.”

“What do you think about muggles?”

“Harmless sheep. But a good rallying point for ignorant purebloods.”

“If you win, what are your real plans?”

“To govern through a series of puppet ministers as to not frighten the populous when I don't age any further, or die.”

"If Harry wasn't trying to kill you, would you seek to kill him?”

“Not anymore, I am far more rational than I once was. So long as we both swore an oath on the matter.”

“Could you fake remorse for making the horcruxes and killing his parents?”

“I do feel remorse about his parents. A mistake on so many levels that caused immeasurable pain for many people, myself included.”

She sat back contemplating what he said. “Have you ever forced anyone to take your Mark?”

“It will not set if the person truly does not accept it one hundred percent. They may not have understood what it means, but at the time they desired it.”

She thought over what he said, mostly he just confirmed what she already knew, sentimentality held little sway over him. He wanted immortality and power. He was prepared to exploit any means to achieve his goals. “These are the non-negotiable terms for my assistance. If I declare someone off-limits, they are off-limits. You begin walking back your stance on muggleborns. Eventually, they are to be treated fairly, and humanely. No more of this they stole magic shite. Your people start trying to start peace talks with the Order. This needs to end. And I get my revenge.”

“Muggleborns are magical children returning home. Teach them wizarding ways, introduce them to their magical families. Many will spend more and more time in our world.
A problem that solves itself. Use your ideas to incorporate more muggle style entertainments to sway them away.” He grinned at her. “So long as you don't declare Harry Potter off limits, I do not care. He must make his own deal with the devil. I will accept you vouching for someone, as I trust if they betray you, your vengeance will be swifter than my own. And so long as your vengeance does not hinder my agenda, you shall have all the revenge you desire.”

“Then it seems we have an accord.”

“I must ask, you will not object to anyone taking the Mark will you?”

“As they have to be willing, why would I? Your more rational goals seem to live forever and be in charge. You also look to return the wizarding world some of its former glory, and improve it until muggleborns have no reason to leave.”

“In a nutshell.”

“That's what I want. I would like it if more things were merit based, but baby steps, I suppose. I also want to destroy the people who hurt me.”

“Is it a long list?”

“I don't know. I'd have to think about it.”

“Anyone immediately out of bounds?”

“Neville Longbottom, he was my first friend. And Luna Lovegood. She's with me, but she has another year of school. She can't be seen in public with me.”

“Would she like to sit her NEWTs early?”

“Everyone has to attend Hogwarts, your rules.”

“And she has. Nothing in the new regulations states she can't test early. Furthermore, what good is being king if you can't bend the rules to reward people? If she even wants to take her NEWTs, she could drop out of school with her OWLs.”

“I'll ask her. Also, I think it is time for Hermione Lestrange to begin stepping out. I know Rodolphus planned an introduction event for the elite, but I should start being seen.”

“And if you are recognized?”

“Let the games begin.”

“Very well, then.”

She left with a spring in her step and a weight off her chest. Her rage at the past seven years smoldered beneath the surface, but Hermione had chosen a path. She would begin planning the best course of action, then follow it. She pulled a thin silver-colored disk from her pocket. Annoyed with the slow speed of owls, she made protean charmed coins for Marcus and herself. 'Available?' she sent to his coin.

'Can be.' She smiled at his quick response.

'Where?'

'White Wyvern'

'Knockturn?'

'Yep.'

She glanced at her skirt and vest top, she looked a little too clean for Knockturn Alley but causal enough for a hangout. She called out her floo destination and sent, 'BRT.'

She smiled at his confused expression, “BRT?” he asked Adrian and Graham. “What does that mean?”

“Be right there,” she laughed when all three of them jumped.

“Hermione, you can't be here?” Adrian objected.

“Why not?” she slid into the booth next to Marcus.

“These are rough people. Rodolphus would kill us if something happened to you,” he looked at Marcus for help.

Marcus held up his hands, “Don't look at me. She does as she pleases. And she's scarier than he is, or anyone else here.” He slide over further so she had more room.

A tarted-up waitress approached, giving Hermione a look over with dull eyes, “Get you anything, princess?” she sounded annoyed.

Ignoring the guys' frowns, Hermione dimpled, “Yes, we would like a whiskey neat, and not firewhiskey. Thank you.” Her words held a clear dismissal.

“You want four, then?” the waitress sounds confused.

Hermione looked back at her, “No, one. If we drank four in public our father would be most displeased.”

“Who is we?”

Hermione gave her a look implying she thought the woman's IQ couldn't be higher than a flobberworm's. “Royalty refers to themselves in the plural, peasant.”

“You aren't royalty.” the waitress retorted hotly.

“But you are rude, so you get what you give.”

“Just who do you think you are?”

“Hermione Lestrange,” she smirked at the older woman.

“Like Bellatrix Lestrange,” she asked in a quavering whisper.

“Does Mummy Dearest come here often?” Hermione asked Adrian.

“On the occasion.”

The waitress paled under her makeup, “Mummy Dearest?”

“That's what I call her,” beamed Hermione. She fled at that point, delivering the drink in record time. “I don't think she liked me very much.” Hermione frowned at her drink, “That's okay, I don't like her.”

“Not that we don't enjoy watching you destroy the waitress, what brings you out?” Graham asked.

“We're celebrating.”

“Oh?”

“I'm not hiding anymore.”

“We can see that.”

“And after getting some answers, I've picked a side to help finish this war and start building a lasting society.”

“Not the Order,” Peregrine said slowly.

“Not the Order,” she agreed.

“So, this will all be over next week?” Adrian joked.

“No, it will take some time. Most of the Order worshipped Albus Dumbledore. They won't roll over and let the lesser evil win.”

“Lesser evil?” Marcus raised an eyebrow.

“Your main boss and his Inner Circle are not exactly the nicest people, but they are honest about that. Dumbledore just did his dark things in secret and pretended to be solidly in the light. He wanted the Order to avoid the more violent spells. He wanted us to fight cold-blooded killers with childish tricks and joke spells. So, the lesser evil.”

Graham swallowed, “Having faced the Weasley twins, I am just going to admit there is something to say for prank fighting.”

Marcus put his arm around her waist and slid her closer, “If it means I get to keep you, whatever you say.” They all laughed.

Hermione twinkled up at him, “Why do you insist you aren't charming?”

He chuckled, “You haven't seen Pucey or Warrington in action.”

She waved him off, “I like what I have, thank you.”

“Does this means you can start coming to my matches?”

“It does.” Her stomach erupted with butterflies at the joyful smile that spread across his face. That smile softened his rugged features. She liked it immensely. “I'm excited. My last professional match was after 5th year.”

“Who did you see?” asked Adrian.

“The Vratsa Vultures versus the Heidelburg Harriers.” She took a sip of her drink.

“Odd choice remarked Graham.

“How so?”

“A Bulgarian team and a German one, odd.” Graham looked skeptical.

“Ah, I was Viktor Krum's personal guest, if that helps explain it.”

“But we aren't going to discuss famous ex-boyfriends.” Marcus glared at his mates.

“Of course not,” Adrian turned back to Hermione. “So, which match are you coming to? The next home match is Tuesday night against the Cannons. Could be on the boring side, though.”

“How?” she asked.

Graham laughed, “While other teams have brought on younger talent and turned it around, the Cannons are still stuck at the bottom of the league for a reason.” All of the men laughed.

“You could look at it as a challenge,” she flashed them an evil grin. “How badly can you humiliate Ronald Wwasely's favorite team? Banal revenge, I know, but a girl's got to start somewhere.”

“Would it actually bother him, though?”

“A huge loss, utter humiliation for them, the winners scoring so many goals it is mortifying?” Her smile grew cold, “ It would utterly destroy him.”

“Could be fun,” Marcus considered it. “Doesn't hurt to mention it to the lads.”

“No, it does not.” Adrian agreed.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16 Quidditch

Upon learning she intended to attend the upcoming Falcon match, Vanessa and Alexandra demanded to take her shopping. “I was just going to get a jersey.”

“Sure, but you need to decide what cut to wear. A more fitted female one, or the looser gender neutral?” Alexandra smiled. “Then, just a Falcons jersey, or Marcus's number?”

“Though wearing just his jersey should spark some inspiration, too,” Vanessa waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “But best leave that for the bedroom celebration afterward.” Hermione kept her face averted until the blush ended. She made a mental note to go see Narcissa for a chat later. Right now she wanted to focus on shopping with her new friends.

Exiting Quality Quidditch, they stood outside discussing where to go next. Alexandra looked up and down the Alley. “My mother mentioned getting new dress robes for your party. We could look around.”

Hermione shrugged, “My mother bought me a dress before she left. It was supposed to be for my first formal event after my 18th birthday. Roddy says I should wear it.”

Vanessa slipped her arm in Hermione's, “Don't tease. I need to see this now. Let's go, Lestrange.” She began marching her towards the Leaky Cauldron, Alexandra following. None of the trio noticed a woman watching them through narrowed eyes before returning to her business. Vanessa and Alexandra never got to see Hermione's dress. She made the mistake of asking about wizard lingerie and ended up taking them to the nearest Victoria Secrets boutique. She explained to the shop girl that they had been raised very conservatively. This was their first time branching out. Hermione then asked for suggestions for under her dress. And for lots of suggestions for numerous other events, as did the others. Once they left the muggle world they disguised the bags.

-oOoOo-

Testing Narcissa's offer of an always open door, Hermione apparated over after Vanessa and Alexandra returned home. “Bee,” she called for the house elf. Once her elf appeared, “I would like to speak to Aunt Narcissa, if she's available.”

“I check, Missy Hermy.” Moments later Bee returned, “Mistress bes waiting in the conservatory.”

“Thank you, Bee.”

When she entered, Narcissa stood, “Hermione, darling girl, how delightful to see you. What brings you by this evening?”

“I had some questions about wizarding society that I would rather ask you than my peers.”

“Certainly,” she gestured for Hermione to be seated, “I realize my sister is not the most maternal, and Rodolphus might not have the proper perspective.”

Hermione took a deep breath, “From a pureblood perspective, is sex before marriage frowned upon?”

“No, not really. As sex magics were once common. It would be complicated if everyone wanting to perform a spell had to get married.”

“Why did those rituals fall out of use?”

“Martial contracts become more rigid to ensure offspring belonged to the correct family lines.”

“I suppose that makes sense. Next question, my wearing my muggle clothes isn't a problem, is it?”

“Formal wear in both worlds is similar. Your clothes are lovely, you looked stunning in the last one.” She paused, “Is there a reason behind these questions?”

“The clothing because I intend to keep wearing my clothes, but didn't want to embarrass Roddy and Bella. The other because of jokes the girls were making. I felt awkward asking,” she looked down, twisting her hands, “I didn't have a normal experience after eleven. There wasn't time for dating or fooling around. Pride at looking inferior prevents me from being comfortable asking my peers.”

“I cannot fathom how you feel, but I understand your reasons. Are you familiar with a contraceptive charm? You don't want to leave that until too late.”

“No, I mean, yes. I am on the potion. I started it before we went on the run, I kept taking it because I still have some, and well, Marcus,” she trailed off.

“Are you feeling more confident about your appearance? The adoption changes didn't cause a setback?”

“No problems because the changes are superficial, and yes, it is getting better. Marcus does a good job expressing his interest, and it helps when his mates try to rile him up by flirting. They all keep saying they aren't completely kidding. Not that I encourage them.”

“That's good.”

“I tell them all scions seem the same, I'll keep the one I have.”

Narcissa stared at her for a moment before throwing her head back and laughing loudly, not a genteel titter, but a full belly laugh.

Draco stuck his head in, looking shocked at the sound. “Mother, what?” He noticed Hermione, “Oh, Grang-, I mean, Lestr-, Her-.”

“Hello, cousin. You can call me whatever, Malfoy. Names have little meaning to me.”

“We're family now. We should use each other's first names, Hermione.”

“If you wish, Draco.” Behind her, Narcissa beamed at her son.

“I know we didn't get along at school, and that was my fault. I apologize for my behavior and the distress it caused.” She studied his face, he looked sincere, he sounded sincere, but experience made her wary. He continued, “I don't expect us to be the best of friends instantly, just that we wipe the slate clean and start over.”

“That's fair. You have yourself a deal.”

Grinning, Draco sat down, “What are we discussing?”

“The interchangeability of pureblood scions; same mold, different wrapping,” smirked Hermione.

“The social acceptability of premarital relations before the aforementioned duplicated scions,” Narcissa replied.

“Girl talk, right. I will bid you both a loving good night and show myself out.”

“If you must. Good night, Draco,” Hermione said brightly.

“Sleep tight, my dragon.” With that Draco fled, female laughter chasing him down the hall. By Tuesday Hermione attending the Falcons, match snowballed from his three mates accompanying her to a full social outing. When Vanessa and Alex invited themselves along, Hermione invited Luna. The Ravenclaw would be using a glamour charm. The blonde admitted she'd always wanted curly brown hair, “It looks fun.” Then Draco, Theo Nott, and Blaise Zabini included themselves. Something about having nearby seats. Lucius upgraded everyone to a luxury box at that point.

Hermione met with Voldemort the morning before the game. He had a list of possible discussion topics. “I can't help up feel some ulterior motives are in play here,” she remarked about the match when taking the list.

“That is because you are intelligent. There are always ulterior motives. Some are just more altruistic than others. Mr. Flint's friends wish to ensure you have a good time, so you are willing to return to support him. Your female friends wish to enjoy your presence. Misters Malfoy, Nott, and Zabini wish to improve your opinion of them. Lucius wishes to support this by moving you from assigned seats to a more informal seating.”

She nodded, “I concede the point.”

“Now, what dark magic shall we discuss next? Not that it needs to be dark magic, I do know other types.”

She hesitated, then decided to go for broke, “Would you be willing to discuss horcruxes?”

He glared, his temper flaring, before it drained away, “Of course, Dumbledore learned of them.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “We can discuss them, I suppose you want one of your own?”

“No, I don't think so. I just want to understand them better.”

“Then let us discuss horcruxes, Miss Lestrange. We will meet on Wednesday. Enjoy your quidditch match.”

-oOoOo-

Molly glared at the kitchen wall. She knew, just knew that girl she saw in Diagon Alley was Hermione Granger. But why would those posh purebloods be taking her shopping? Where would she have gotten the money to afford all those bags? None of it made sense. She had given Hermione very clear orders. Stay with the boys. Keep them safe. Keep researching. And keep Ron happy. What could have gone wrong? Ron and Harry were clueless.

Those two kept disappearing to work on their mission. They refused to talk to anyone else about it, which further frustrated Molly. They also refused to stay at Muriel's with the rest of them, citing a lack of space, or at Shell Cottage, because Bill and Fleur were newlyweds and needed their privacy. It might be time to encourage Ginny to start seducing Harry again. Albus had always been clear that Harry could not be charmed, he didn't need to be.

Arthur entered Muriel's kitchen, another source of Molly's agitation, they couldn't turn the Burrow into a safe house, too many in the ministry knew the address. She tried to offer him a warm greeting but knew it fell short. Her husband, however, treated her to a loving reception. “Kingsley and Tonks looked into your mystery girl. She is a Hermione, but not our Hermione. She is Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange, Hermione Neveah Lestrange.”

“I don't remember them ever having a daughter?”

“I can't say I paid much time to the Lestranges before,” Arthur admitted.

“Moments like this I wish Albus was still here. Or Snape hadn't been a rat and we had access to his portrait,” she sighed.

“I know, Molly-wobbles, I know,” he hugged his wife tightly.

-oOoOo-

Vanessa braided Luna and Hermione's hair to prevent the curls from becoming a nuisance in the stands. “The wind can be brutal up there, even in the nicer boxes.” Once they were ready, Hermione created a portkey to transport them to the stadium.

Peregrine whistled when he, Cassius, and Graham caught sight of the women. He winked at Hermione in her fitted Falcons jersey. “You look amazing, love,” he greeted her. “Are you absolutely sure I can't steal you from Marcus?”

“Quite.”

“Pity, well, in we go.” He offered her his arm.

The luxury box Lucius procured lived up to its title. Lush, upholstered benches lined the rail. Behind it, equally plush love seats provided backed seating. A bartender and waiter stood next to the bar, ready to provide refreshments. A cooling charm circulated through the space holding the August heat back. Hermione nodded hello to the wait staff and approached the rail. She looked over the pitch, “Impressive view.”

Luna joined her, “Mr. Malfoy didn't scrimp, did he?”

“Only the best for Malfoys,” declared Draco as he, Blaise, and Theo entered. “Sets the bar high.”

“High for who?” Luna wondered out loud.

“Everyone.” Draco smirked, “Draco Malfoy, and you are?” he held out his hand to Luna.

“Myself,” she teased laughing.

“Hello, do you have a name? Mine is Blaise.”

“I'm not sure it is safe for you to know my name at the moment.”

“Call her Selene for now,” Hermione instructed. “She's a friend from my old life, meaning it isn't safe yet for her to be seen in public with you lot.”

“She's your friend. None of us would risk your displeasure by harming your friend.” Graham sounded insulted.

“No, I fear the Order would think she was in danger or compromised and might harm her if they learned the truth. So, Selene here is wearing a fake face and using a made up name. Otherwise, she can be herself.”

“Surely your friends would give you the benefit of the doubt?” protested Cassius.

Malfoy gave a mean little laugh, “You never saw the Weasel in a strop.”

Blaise nodded, “Boy throws championship level wobbles.”

“With little to no provocation,” Hermione agreed, “and Merlin save you if he has a shred of evidence. Not that he needs any, or waits for the full story.”

“And Mrs. Weasley always backs her baby boy.” Luna reported, “I never understood why he was so jealous and intimidated by his brothers with how spoiled he was.”

“Don't know, don't care,” Hermione flipped her braid over her shoulder. “The mercurial nature of Ronald Bilius Weasley is no longer my problem.” She flashed a grin, “My problem is getting a decent drink and enjoying this match.”

Not being familiar with wizard drinks beyond fire whiskey, Hermione let Vanessa order her first drink. Peregrine fixed her a plate of snacks. Graham fixed one for Luna. “Are you a quidditch fan, Selene? We all know Hermione isn't.”

“I am. Hermione might find an interest now that she's free.”

“I enjoy watching the game, more so I admit when I know someone playing. It is the never-ending dissection of games, plays, to the exception of all other conversation that I hate.”

“That's fair,” Nott acknowledged.

“I immensely enjoyed all of the professional matches I attended. I intend to enjoy this one.”

“Attend many professional matches as a special guest, cara?” cooed Blaise.

“Let's just say when left to my own devices, I have a type.” Luna dissolved into giggles, unable to meet Hermione's eyes.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at her, “You know her type?”

“Of course, when you look at her dating history it isn't hard to determine.”

“Won't you enlighten us?” The Italian purred, “Please.”

Luna shared an amused smile with Hermione who nodded for her to go ahead. “We start 4th year with Yule Ball. International quidditch star, Viktor Krum, notices what most fail to, our little Hermione is a hottie in the making. He swoops in and snags our girl as his date. Broad shoulders, unconventional brooding good looks, and a muscular physique.”

“Sure, then she dates the Weasel,” Draco laughed.

Luna waved him down, “Because she was pressured to, not because she really wanted to. Relationship of convenience for others, that's all. Though he was a quidditch player, he is not her type, nor her his.” The others looked to Hermione for confirmation. She nodded. They returned their attention to Luna. “This brings us to Marcus Flint, again internationally famous quidditch player. Dark, broody good looks, broad shoulders, and muscled frame to match. Exactly Hermione's type.” Luna looked smug.

“So when you say we're all interchangeable, you don't mean it?” Cassius asked.

“I do not. I do mean I am keeping the pureblood scion I have.”

Cassius nodded, “Good to know.” Music blared, “Time to cheer on your choice.”

The group stood at the rail to watch the visiting team, the Chudley Cannons be announced. The orange players zoomed about to the blaring rock music. Luna closed her eyes, “So nauseating, horrible color.”

“Is that a fair reaction to orange? It isn't the color's fault it reminds you of Ron.” Hermione teased.

“Oh, now you've made it worse,” she groaned.

Graham reached over and rubbed small circles on her back, “Don't worry the bad players will stop speeding around any second now.”

“Thank you.”

The music changed to a harder rock sound. The crowd erupted into cheers as the home team took the field. The announcer boomed their introductions, “Let's hear it for our captain, Keeper Roman Pearson, Seeker Oakley Barrett, the dynamic duo of Beaters Noah Moore and Jonas Ferguson, and the domination of the league, your chasers, Wulfric Wallace, Adrian Pucey, and Marcus Flint! Ladies and gentlemen, your Falmouth Falcons!” If possible the cheers grew louder. Hermione's face hurt from smiling so widely. She shouted with the rest of them.

The gameplay took a brutal turn fast. The Falcons had a reputation for their rough style. The new blood of Flint, Pucey, and Wallace had improved their standing in the league. In three years the Falcons went from the bottom to the top of the league. “Look at them fly!” laughed Blaise. “The Falcons are on fire today. I don't know which Cannon brassed them off, but they are all paying for it today.” The score climbed as the Falcon chasers slammed the defense again and again. The beaters kept the bludgers moving about and crashing into the Cannon's keeper and seeker. Barrett tracked the snitch like a bloodhound and kept his opponent from catching it.

“Wow,” breathed Nott, “I wonder what they did?”

“The Cannon's themselves? Nothing beyond being someone's favorite team I assume,” Hermione smirked.

Luna looked at her, “Flint got them to do this because? That is so romantic.” She smiled fondly at the Falcon chaser as he body checked a Cannon and stole the quaffle.

“Flint? Romantic?” Blaise laughed.

“I'm still confused,” Theo complained.

“You aren't the only one,” Alexandra assured him.

Without taking her eyes off Marcus, Hermione began explaining, “Ronald Weasley hurt me badly. His favorite team is the Chudley Cannons. Yes! Go, Flint!” She resumed her narration, “Marcus can't pummel Ron right now, so he's settled for destroying his beloved team. And celebrating the first time I got to watch him play since school. And the first time I'm cheering for him.”

Vanessa chuckled, “That is kind of romantic.”

“Then take into account how brutal the whole team is,” Luna pointed out.

Peregrine nodded, “He would have explained exactly why it was important. Those poor bastards.”

“Aye,” Graham grimaced, “your teammate tells you his girl's coming, you want to win to help impress her. Popular bloke like Flint says some arse made his girl cry and this will get even, you give it everything, cause he'd do the same for you.”

Draco looked over the pitch and handed Hermione another drink. “This isn't just a slaughter, it is a massacre.”

At some point, they migrated to the seating and resumed enjoying the offered food. When the score climbed to 990 to 20, Barrett snatched the snitch from the air behind the Cannon's seekers head, ending the game at 1140 to 20. After the official called the match, Barrett flew up to Marcus and handed him an object. Marcus flew towards their box.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it appears Chaser Marcus Flint has the honor of presenting the snitch to a lucky fan.” The crowd cheered.

Sitting on one of the back couches, Hermione made no move to get up. Marcus hovered on the other side of the rail. “Hey, little dove, go a pressie for you.”

“Is that so?

“Yep,” he grinned at her making her heart skip a beat.

“At what price?” she yelled back laughing.

“From me? Nothing. The guys want to meet you soon.”

“Define soon.”

“Within the next month.”

“That's fair.” She pulled the curls that had escaped from the braid forward to help cover her face. She stood and approached the railing. “What? Why should we make the identity of your girlfriend easy for anyone?” She took the snitch from him, then leaned forward to peck his cheek. “We will have a proper celebration later,” she whispered in his ear?

“Promise?”

“If you're a good boy.”

“Where's the fun in that?” She laughed, gave him a small shove, and stepped back into the shadows of the box. “Wait here, I'll be back after the interviews.”

“I'll be waiting.” She sat back down.

Luna smiled, “I think I'm going to go. Thanks for inviting me. See you soon?”

“Of course. Write me, or just come by.” Hermione hugged her friend.

Graham jumped to his feet, “Let me escort you to the floo.”

“You just want my address,” Luna sassed.

“Sure, otherwise I have to bug Hermione about you. Then she'll hex me, and I'd be bald.”

“That would be a travesty,” joked Peregrine.

“I agree,” Luna nodded to herself. “All right, then, come along.” Graham offered her his arm.

Vanessa and Alexandra stood, “We should go as well. See you this week.” Draco, Blaise, and Theo departed with them.

Cassius propped his feet up on the bench in front of him. “Don't worry, we won't desert you until Marcus returns.”

“I spend three months alone in the wilderness. I am capable of waiting by myself for twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, but the press will be dying to learn your identity. Then the hunters discover lone prey they descend. We would never do that to you. Marc would never forgive us.” Cassius told her.

“And we like hanging out with you. You're smart, funny, and rather witty. Got any other Selene's you're hiding?”

“No, she's my only friend from my old life, well, and Neville
Longbottom. But, now...” she trailed off.

“Your new mother drove his parents insane.”

“Exactly.”

“Not that you and Mrs. Lestrange are that close.”

“Mummy Dearest isn't close to anyone, expect your master.”

“I suppose that's true.”

“It is what it is,” she tried to sound nonchalant.
Marcus appeared wet-headed a bit later. Peregrine and Hermione were discussing the mental damage left by the Crucio curse. “Oh, thank Salazar, save me. The brains are debating big brain things. Please!” Cassius leapt to his feet and hugged Marcus.

“Get off, you git,” he shoved the shorter blonde away. “Learn to deal with it. She listens to boring sports talk, participates, even. Least we can do is let her talk about her interests.”

“Thank you,” she purred, hugging him.

“But nothing they said made sense,” Cassius whined.

Marcus shrugged, “Don't know what to tell you, mate.”

“You're here, you can tell me goodbye.” He whirled to face Hermione. “It was fun. See you soon.”

“Friday for my party, I expect,” she smiled.

“I'll be there as well,” Peregrine hugged her and clapped Marcus on the shoulder.

Once they were alone, he made a show of looking her over. “Aren't you a glorious sight?”

“In a jersey and jeans?” she sounded skeptical.

“My jersey,” he put his hands on her hips and pulled her close.

“So, I wouldn't be stunning in say, Oliver Wood's jersey?”

He groaned, “You would. You always look good.”

“What about his Gryffindor jersey?”

“You are a cruel woman.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I cannot imagine you ever looking less than beautiful.”

“You looked like you showered and raced up here.”

“Because I did. Am I not handsome?”

“Certainly, handsome and wet.”

“Couldn't keep the most gorgeous woman in the world waiting, now could I?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She twinkled up at him.

“Good to know.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “We have three options: meet the team and the WAGs for drinks, go out to dinner just the two of us, or celebrate privately.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

She smacked his arm lightly, “While I'm not sure how far you intend private celebrating to go, I'm not in the mood for anything too public today.”

“Fair enough. And private celebrating can be whatever we want, takeaway and cuddles, snogging each other senseless, or naked fun time.” He squeezed her hips, “But, remember, I want us to take our time, so no pressure for anything, ever.”

“And I like that so long as when I say I'm ready you don't try to talk me out of it. Ron used to do that. Looking back, I see the real reasons, but it made me doubt myself, and I hated it.”

He nodded, “Your word will be taken at face value as long as you never lie. The first time you express regret after, there will be questions.” He frowned, “Mostly for my safety. Both Rodolphus and Rabastan have been clear- unhappy Hermione means a physically broken Marcus.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” She took a deep breath, “And in acknowledgment of everything you will put up with because of me, I feel it is only fair that we go meet your team for one drink.”

“But, you said... This is a test, isn't it? About asking questions.”

“No, but if it had been you would have passed, good job.”

“We don't have to go.”

“No, we do not. But we should. I want to. Probably because you aren't pressuring me.”

“Hermione,” he started before she cut him off.

“Marcus. A relationship is a give and take, you can't just be the one giving. You have to take occasionally.”

“Okay. If you want to go, we'll go have one drink and then head to dinner.”

“If that's what you want,” she smiled sweetly. “Lead on.” She took his hand.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17 Meetings

The bar of choice was a hole in the wall two streets over from the stadium. “It isn't much, but the locals give us space and respect our privacy. Nothing that happens there gets passed on to the press. Keeps us going.”

“Which is why they keep it that way,” she grinned. “Relax, I'm hardly some prissy pureblood that can only be taken to five-star restaurants.”

“Hermione, I've seen your parents' house.”

“So? They were very down-to-earth people. I'm more comfortable at the local pub than at those places, I promise.”

“I just want this to go well. These guys are an important part of my life. If you hate their wives or girlfriends, you'll never come to games.”

“Um, if I don't like them, I just won't sit with them. I can afford to buy my own tickets and sit wherever I like.”

“You would, wouldn't you?”

“Of course, today was great. Even Draco managed not to be a huge prat.”

The interior of the Hart and Hare reminded Hermione of her parents' favorite college hangout, a pub they took her to numerous times over the years. Dim lighting along the outer booths offered privacy, while the brighter center lighting illuminated the center bar. Conversations buzzed about the room. A few people glanced towards them when they entered. Confidently, Marcus lead her across the taproom to the tables commandeered by the celebrating team. Adrian was the first to notice them. “Marcus! Hermione, you came!”

“I did.”

“Everyone, this is Hermione. Hermione, this is everyone.” Marcus pointed out each player, introducing a wife or girlfriend if he knew her. He did not bother introducing the groupies who had claimed unoccupied laps. Adrian promptly dumped the blonde in his lap to converse with Hermione. Marcus sat next to her, resting his arm on the back of her chair.

She waved, “Hello.” A waitress hurried over the take their drink order. She sat in silence listening to the conversations going on around them. After around ten minutes several of the other players began paying more attention to their end of the table. Hermione Lestrange remained a mystery to most of Britain, and their teammates seemed to know her well.

The third chaser, Wulfric leaned forward, “Nice to meet you, now the pressing question of the hour, why is a woman like you with this ugly sod?” He ducked the playful punch Marcus threw at him, grinning like a Cheshire cat.”

“Because I want to. I've come to discover that is the best answer for just about anything.” Hermione shrugged. “Or because I can.”

“Oh, I like her.” Wulfric high-fived Marcus, “Nice choice.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“So, Hermione, what do you do?” asked Nora Barrett.

“About what?” she asked.

“For a living?”

“I haven't decided. I'm investigating several avenues right now.”

“That sounds nice.” Nora gave her a prim smile. Hermione found herself liking the polite woman. She dressed more demurely than the other women at the table.

“Or she can just spend Marcus,” joked a girlfriend or groupie, Hermione wasn't sure which. Several laughed.

“What do you do?” Hermione politely inquired of Nora and ignoring the other comments.

“I am a part-time receptionist at St Mungo's.”

“That must be interesting.”

“It is generally rather dull. But it gets me out of the house and talking to adults.” Nora shrugged.

“Small children?” Hermione guessed.

“Yes, and I love them, and they are amazing treasures, don't get me wrong, but...”

“Your sanity needs a break?”

“Exactly!” both women laughed. “Though, I don't want them to feel like they were raised by the house elves, either.”

“Parenting can be a delicate tightrope act.” commiserated Hermione. “She said from observations, not any practical experience.”

One of the groupies who had been trying, and failing, to get Marcus's attention huffed, “Ugh, who cares about kids and all that boring crap? We're young, we're meant to have fun.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Young people do not stay so forever. And even rich and famous men can desire families of their own someday.”

“And then they get bored with the old model and trade-in on something newer and sleeker. And need all the money to keep her.” She gave Nora a nasty sneer that cause the woman to briefly recoil.

“That's a mistake. Why risk picking up any number of diseases?”

“What? I don't have any disease!” shrieked the harpy.

“Are you sure about that? I've heard the reports about the rising cases of sexually transmitted diseases amongst jersey chasers. It can be quite high.” She looked at Marcus innocently, “You haven't slept with any of these slags recently have you?”

“Haven't been with a groupie since my first season, and then only once. Have you seen them?”

She looked around him to the blonde sitting on the other side, “I have.”

“Well, there you go.”

She looked over at Adrian, “Are you being safe, as well?”

“I have standards. I only sleep with professional models or better. Also, they spend less money.”

She nodded and turned back to Marcus, “For Nora's peace of mind, what about Oakley?”

“He's a good man. He doesn't pay them any attention, ever. And he doesn't mind if she spends money.”

“That's nice. Make sure you keep him as an example for future behavior. Though, full disclosure, I think I have more money than you, but I don't mind if you spend it.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Marcus chuckled.

“Thanks, mate,” Oakley saluted him with his drink. Marcus nodded his head once.

“Stop talking about us like we aren't here,” snapped the blonde witch.

“Oh, are you still here? I was hoping if we ignored you, you would take the hint and go away.” Hermione told her.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I know that I'm the witch about to hex so strongly that your hypothetical grandchildren will be bald and hairy.” The blonde started to object, “Yes, I heard myself, no hair on your head, including eyebrows, but your nose hair, chest hairs, armpit hair, leg hair, and other hair will be so long it grows in ringlets.” One of the groupies snorted derisively. Hermione whipped out her wand and flicked it. The brunette grabbed her head, feeling the smooth skin. “Do not try me.”

The groupie that had been pawing at Adrian all even looked at him, “Are you going to let her treat us that way?”

“Yep.” The girl huffed angrily at his answer. “I am far more afraid of what she's going to do to me if she gets annoyed than I will ever be of you.”

“What about you, Marcus?” cooed one of the others from further down the table.

“I like it when she shows her feisty side. So sexy.” He waggled his eyebrows at Hermione.

“Brute.” She lightly smacked his chest. He grabbed her hand.

“You know it.” He kissed her. “Finished your drink?”

“I have.”

“Let's go get dinner then.” He stood, offering her his hand.

Adrian pouted, “You're leaving me?”

“We are,” Marcus told him.

“See you Friday?” Hermione asked.

Adrian smiled at her, “You know it.”

“Good.” She allowed Marcus to place his hand on the small of her back and escort her from the pub. She waved farewell to everyone as they walked past. “So, what would you like to do for dinner?”

“My preference would be an evening in, just the two of us.”

“Your place or mine?”

“Hmm, good question. My siblings have wandered home again, but I still find the notion of them wandering in mid snog preferable to your father or uncle.”

“There is that,” briefly she thought of enticing him back to her childhood home, but decided she didn't want to field the hundreds of possible questions about what things were, at least today. “Let's go with your place. Want to try Chinese?”

“You will find I will try just about anything once.” He grinned down at her. “You grab dinner, and I'll go make sure my room is acceptable for company.”

“Are you impugning the honor of your elves?” Hermione put her hand over her heart in fake shock.”

“Never, I tell them they only have to clean once a week, but I don't know what day that is.”

“I see,” she said slowly like she didn't quite believe him. “I'll go get the food then.”

“I'll be waiting.”

Twenty minutes later Hermione emerged from Marcus's floo carrying paper bags of food. She set about fixing plates of fried rice, lo mien, black pepper chicken, beef with broccoli, sesame chicken, and seafood mix. “Do you mind if we listen to the highlight report while we eat?”

“That's fine, just so long as you don't want to then dissect every observation they make, repeatedly, all evening.”

“Salazar, no! Listening is more than enough. I like knowing how the other teams did.”

Somehow, while clearing away the food, Hermione ended up wearing lo mien noodles and rice. Marcus's elf, Inky, pulled his ears mortified. Hermione soothed the creature, “This is my fault. I need to learn to let you help, at the least, or let you do your job.”

“Please to let Inky clean clothes, missy?”

“Okay, okay, you can clean my clothes.”

Marcus opened his closet, “My stuff will swallow you, but help yourself.”

Stepping inside the walk-in, Hermione stripped to her underwear and socks, passing the clothes through the partially open door. She rummaged through his clothes, eventually finding an old bottle-green quidditch jersey. She slipped it over her head. It swallowed her, but not as much as his current one would. She decided she didn't need much, it was just the two of them, she skipped hunting down a pair of boxers to pair with it.

Marcus felt his mouth go dry at the sight of Hermione in his old jersey. Memories of Yule Ball flashed in front of his eyes. Everyone had wanted her that night, and now he had her. She climbed onto the bed, flashing her knickers. She would be the death of him but figured he'd enjoy dying. He moved swiftly to join her. She lay back on the bed, he settled above her, bracing himself on his arms on either side of her. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

Comfortable?”

“Yes, thank you.” She beamed up at him.

“Nice choice.”

“I like it.”

“Looks good on you. Better than it did on me.”

“You look rather fit in your current kit.”

He kissed her, shifting her to lay flat on her bed, while he remained hovered over her. “I bet you would still look better.”

“Nah, too big.”

He kissed her again, this time deeper and longer, “I think I should be the judge.”

“You're biased,” she leaned up and kissed him fiercely. Instantly, he matched her intensity, nipping at her lips and using his tongue to assert his dominance. Only for her to switch from defense to offense. Her hands snaked under his shirt. She ran her fingertips up and down his back, tracing the muscles there. He massaged at her breast through the jersey. She broke the kiss, “That is uncomfortable.”

“Sorry.”

“Don't be sorry, help me take it off.”

“Seriously?” he stared at her in surprise.

“Do I look like I'm joking?”

“No, ma'am.”

“Then help.” She sat up as much as she could and shifted her weight as Marcus helped her pull it off and flung it over the side of the bed. She pulled Marcus back down on top of her underwear clad body.

He nibbled her earlobe with a growl, “Gods you're hot.”

She giggled, “Not so much anymore.”

He ran his hand along her bare skin, “Tease.”

“Oi teases don't let you touch.”

“Fair. Hmmm,” he returned his attention to her ear and neck. “You taste delicious.”

She raised to suck on his neck, grazing it with her teeth. “So do you.” She increased the pressure.

“Are you leaving love bites?”

“Mmmm, mine.”

He pulled back, moving his neck out of her reach. He noticed the scar on her chest. He traced the scar that bisected her torso. “War scar?”

“Dolohov, Department of Mysteries my fifth year.” He brushed the razor-thin lashes on her right shoulder. “Running through the Forbidden Forest from a werewolf in third year.”

“Do you have any funny scars?”

“Not really, sorry.” She jerked when he lightly brushed along her chest scar. “That tickled,” she complained.

“Valuable information, the great Hermione Lestrange is ticklish.”

“Just remember, I hex first and ask questions second.”

“Noted, no tickle wars.”

“Good idea.”

He toyed with the elastic band of her knickers, locking eyes with a questioning look. She bucked up against his hand, granting permission without ever looking away. Slowly, giving her time to object, his hand slipped into her knickers. He rubbed his fingertips against her slit. Hermione hissed in pleasure and ground against his fingers. In response, Marcus slid a thick digit into her channel, causing her to arch her back. She eagerly met his hand moments. Grinning, he pumped faster, adding a second finger. “Oh gods, oh Marcus, Marcus.” He felt her clench around his fingers. He continued to rub as she came down.

Once her orgasm ceased, he removed his fingers and licked them clean, “Hmm, delicious. Next time, I'll lick it from the source.” Hermione squirmed in response to the idea.

She reached down to caress him through his pants. Her fingers grazed the material, as the door flung open. Marcus's older brother, Malcolm, strode in before recoiling, “Dammit, Marc!”

“Get out,” Marcus growled, covering Hermione with his body.

“You know better than to bring home fangirls.” He tried to peek over his brother's shoulder. “Father is coming, you best get rid of her.”

“Get out.”

“Nope, not listening to a rant over a slaggy piece of fluff.” He tried to grab Hermione. Simultaneously, Marcus swung a fist at his brother. Hermione summoned the jersey. Malcolm managed to duck and retreated from the bed while Hermione dressed. She collected her jeans and turned to see the brothers squaring off.

“Oi, knock that off,” she snapped. “Marcus, trousers. I doubt your father wants to see your pants.” He looked at her and nodded.

Malcolm fretted, “Look, Father is not going to be pleased to find some scrubber in the house. You can't bring birds back here.” Heavy footfalls echoed down the hall. In a panic, Malcolm grabbed Hermione's upper arm. “You need to hide.” He shoved her into the bathroom. He shut the door, blocking it with his body. “The girls spent the entire trip shopping and partying at inappropriate places. We left with no serious prospects. He's on the warpath.”

Before Marcus could respond, Merrick Flint appeared in the doorway. He surveyed the room, frowning, “I thought you were entertaining?”

“I am,” Marcus glared at his brother.

“Then where is she?” his father demanded.

Before either son could answer the sound of the toilet flushing interrupted. Hermione emerged pretending to dry her hands. “Oh, hello, you must be Marcus's father and his brother. I'm Hermione Lestrange, nice to meet you.” She beamed and moved to Marcus's side.
“Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” Merrick nodded to her. “Perhaps the shame of seeing their baby brother in a committed relationship will spurn my daughters to take adult life more seriously and find husbands.”

Hermione nodded, “You could encourage them to get jobs and support themselves instead of living off you.”

Merrick blinked twice and considered the idea, “Sadly, I think that would encourage them to insist on one more trip around Europe, just to be sure.”

She shrugged, “Malcolm gets a job. No Malcolm, no chaperone, no chaperone, no trip. Damn the luck.”

Marcus chuckled, “Then they sulk, moan, and try to get me to take leave to go, or try during the off-season and want to linger once there.”

“Don't be silly,” she kissed his cheek, “you're far too busy with me for all that.”

“There is that,” he tugged and she allowed herself to be pulled against him. His father looked pleased, his brother confused.

“Miss Lestrange, you are most welcome to family dinner on Sundays whenever you are available,” invited Merrick.

“I'll check my schedule. You will be at my party Friday, won't you?”

“We wouldn't miss it for the world.”

“Splendid.”

“I will leave you in my son's hands.”

“A most capable place to be.” She twinkled at the dour older man. He nodded again and left the room.

“What in the all the hells was that?” demanded Malcolm. “She looks thoroughly shagged and he practically pats you on the head and invites her to dinner.”

“Being the current darling of the Inner Circle has benefits,” she dimpled at him.

“I don't see that happening for me in the near future,” he
retorted dryly.

“Date better,” Hermione shrugged. “Speaking of dating, go away. You interrupted.” Holding up his hands in surrender, Malcolm backed out of the room.
Marcus shut the door after him. Then he addressed her, “Um,” he started unsure of her mood.

“No, I'm not in the mood to pick up where we left off, but your brother needed to go regroup, and I didn't want to spend the rest of the night dealing with it.”

“Agreed.”

“More radio?” she suggested. “Maybe a muggle radio program?”

“Sure.” They settled back on the bed and listened to a comedy show on BBC 4. “Do we need to set an alarm or anything?”

“Nah, Roddy knows where to find me.” She ran her fingertip along his arms. “Thank you for the snitch and devastating the Cannons.”

They settled back on the bed. “That was my pleasure. Some of the boys owed me. The rest will want a similar favor someday.” He kissed her forehead. “And they all knew your cheating ex adores the Cannons. Can't beat his face in so, take what I can get.” He shifted to be leaning over her. “Do I get a reward?”

“My undying gratitude.”

“That could be a hot commodity soon.”

“Right?” she laughed. She snuggled into his chest. “Sorry we got interrupted, and that it killed the mood.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes.”
He hugged her, “Me, too.”

-oOoOo-

Ron stared at the Daily Prophet. The scores from the last Cannons match were impossible. They were not the best team in the league, but the others teams had never embarrassed them in such a manner. He felt his stomach flip flop. He considered crying, but what good would his tears do. He hurled a teacup across the kitchen, then yelled for Kreacher to clean up the mess. He sulked for the remainder of the day, refusing to let Harry cheer him up, or do any work on the problem of horcruxes. Harry rolled his eyes and ignored him, wishing Hermione was here to help him bring Ron out of his snit.

-oOoOo-

Wednesday, Voldemort joined Hermione in her preferred parlor at the Hall, “Less chance of interruptions here.”

He sat across from her, “Ask away.”

“Why horcruxes? Why not make a philosopher's stone?”

“The short answer? I was young and angry. The philosopher's stone did not tie my soul to the mortal plane. Dead was dead, no chance at coming back. Any kindness or compassion in my soul was slowly killed off as I grew. Those orphanages were horrible places. Albus Dumbledore thought me a cruel bully at eleven. He never bothered to look into why. In my world, only the strong survived, or found someone stronger to protect them. I didn't know what it was but my magic made me strong.” He gave her a smirk. “The indifference of the world isolated me. With no one to show me true kindness, love, or compassion, how could I learn? The idea of destroying another for my own gain didn't horrify me as it would another.

“Thanks to Salazar's basilisk I had an opportunity, and I took it.”

“You realize the folly of seven horcruxes, right?”

“Six, Nagini replaced my diary.”

“Seven. You accidentally made Harry into one in 1981,” she corrected.

“Well, that complicates matters does it not?”

“Did you feel the destruction of the diary?” she inquired.

“I was incorporeal, I was not aware of much. I do not recommend it as a long-term existence.”

“Noted. You were back in a body when Dumbledore destroyed the ring before he died.”

“There was a sudden flare of pain that incapacitated me for several days, then over the next few weeks I felt stronger than before.”

“Several of your followers have mentioned you seem calmer than before you left your body.”

“Have they?”

“Yes,” she frowned, “and, no, I will not tell you who. They did so to reassure me you could be trusted. They said you were less impulsive and mercurial.”

“You theorize the difference is the return of my soul fragments?”

“Yes, but I have no way of testing this without destroying one. And if it doesn't, then you pointlessly eliminated one and made it easier for the Order to win.”

“That is Potter's current mission, isn't it?”

“Well, it certainly isn't to make friends and positively influence people.” He chuckled at her, “So, pro, more possible magical strength, con pain, and being out of commission for a bit.” Hermione summed up.

“Yes, though this brings us to the question of living horcruxes.”

“Should they show signs of aging, and Harry has, you may have to destroy them or risk losing the fragment. Or, it might return to you upon their natural deaths.”

“Nagini's natural death is a way off, familiars live much longer than their counterparts.” He paused, “I think I shall destroy one more to experiment. Better to know than not to. That also leaves four, two animate and two inanimate.”

She nodded nervously, “Promise not to get mad?”

“I will endeavor not to.”

“I have the locket. We stole it from Delores Umbridge after Fletcher Mudungus stole it from Grimmauld Place.”

His face contorted and changed colors rapidly as he took deep breaths. “I suppose I should count my blessings that you have it and the Dunderhead Duo as Snape calls them.”

“Very true.”

“I suppose at the moment you considered it a safety net, an escape hatch so to speak?”

“No, I don't need one. I simply forgot I had it in my beaded bag.”

“You trust me to keep my word?”

“Yes, and no. Your magic is on the line, you would never risk that. But also, I have a means of escape. To a place, I am the sole secret keeper of. The only way there or back is a portkey tied to my magical signature.”

“Very clever,” he beamed at her looking proud.

“May I ask what the two remaining horcruxes are?” she asked.

“If you guess correctly, I will tell you that you did,” he responded with a challenging gleam in his eyes.

She thought for a moment, remembering Dumbledore's clues for Harry. “One is Hufflepuff's cup and the other is Ravenclaw's diadem.”

“Brava, my dear.”

“Dumbledore suggested the cup after the locket. Which lead me to thoughts of the missing diadem. Though I confess surprise you managed to find it after so many years.”

“The Grey Lady, the Ravenclaw ghost is Helena Ravenclaw, Rowena's daughter. I asked her about it. She confessed she stole it and ran away to Albania.”

“Where you found it. Is that what drew you to Albania in spirit form?”

“Perhaps, I do not remember much until I possessed Quirrell. I returned there after his body was destroyed.”

“Do you want to destroy it now?”

“No,” he frowned, “I would like to prepare, perhaps mitigate some of the pain. Perhaps after the new year, in the lull after the holiday season.”

“Just let me know.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 18 Hermione's Coming Out Party

Friday morning the house elves scoured the ground floor, making every corner shine. The kitchen elves bustled about preparing finger foods for the tables, enough that even Ron could have eaten his fill. Hermione tried to relax, but her nerves kept getting the better of her. People who knew Hermione Granger were invited. Though, those people knew Granger, Potter's obedient pet muggleborn, not the real Hermione. Even the Longbottoms were invited, though she doubted they ever seriously considered attending.

Shortly after lunch Luna arrived, they had decided to get ready together at the Hall. “I told Daddy today,” she said in a quiet voice. “I told him about all the bullying, and how you were my truest friend.” She smiled at Hermione, “He agreed to Professor Snape's request for me to test out of my NEWTs. Then next school year he's going on an extended expedition. If need be, Luna will go with him, while Selene stays behind.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“It could be the safest option. If a hotheaded Weasley decided to get revenge, no one would get there until too late.”

“Sadly true.”

“Not even going to pretend he wouldn't do such a thing?”

“I can if you want me to, but Ron can be impulsive and hateful. There is a chance he would regret it later.”

“By then the damage is done,” Luna sadly.

Hermione patted her shoulder in sympathy, “I know.”

Luna shook herself, “That possibility is in the future and may not even come to pass. But we are going to a party in your honor tonight. We should focus on that.”

“Maisie,” Hermione called. Her elf popped in. “We're ready to get started.” The small elf started with Luna. Hermione reclined on her bed absently stroking Sir Hiss. Her familiar watched the events with amused eyes.

'So much work for a short time.'

'You think us silly.'

'Perhaps,' Sir Hiss coiled. 'And yet I am enormously pleased when the big one dumps eels in the pond, so...'

Hermione chuckled. Luna looked at her. “Sir Hiss finds us silly, but doubts his right to judge given his enjoyment of hunting nonnative eels.”

“So fair of him.”

Since Hermione agreed to give the Quibbler an exclusive interview, Luna would be attending as herself. As purebloods, the Lovegoods were on the guest list, and she could claim she wanted more information on a new player in the game. A story created supposing anyone cared when they noticed, if they even noticed. She dressed conservatively in an ice blue princess A-line gown. Maisie piled her hair up into a slick bun atop her head. “You look amazing, Luna.” The blonde preened, spinning around.

“Really? I feel like a little girl playing dress up.”

“Who doesn't?” Hermione sat before the vanity mirror, allowing Maisie to begin working her magic. This time the elf arranged her hair to draw attention to the wildness of her curls, reminding people of her connection with Bellatrix. The dress Eleanor had bought her for her first “adult” event lay on her bed. While waiting for Hermione's hair to be finished Luna fingered the soft silk of her skirt.

The plum hued gown was a modified A-line with a Queen Anne neckline. The portrait hole fell so low most of her back was bare. Linked across it silver chains suspended a silver dragon with amethyst eyes. To help bridge her other two families she wore Rodolphus's grandmother's earrings above a pair of glittering drop diamonds from the Black side. A teardrop diamond encrusted amethyst sat just above the swell of her cleavage, taunting observers with the view.

“Very daring,” Luna complimented.

“Mum wanted me to make an impression.”

“Well, that dress will help you succeed.” Luna's smile dropped, “Are you ready for this?”

“The possibility of someone meeting Hermione Lestrange and being able to recognize Hermione Granger hanging over me? No, but I doubt I will ever be. Are you ready to deal with any backlash from attending?”

“I'm ready, even if it means fighting an enraged Weasley.”

“On that note, I have something for you.” Hermione picked up a box and handed it to Luna. Inside a diamond, blue topaz, and sapphire snowflake glistened on a silvery chain. “This is like mine, strong enough to punch through any wards. It will take you to the guest room next to my room at Lestrange Hall. No one can get you there. Just grab it and say 'Sanctuary.' It is keyed to you and will only bring whatever you are holding, but not someone holding you.”

“Simply brilliant.”

“Why, thank you.”

Draco joined them on the first landing. “Wow, Hermione, you look...”

“Amazing?” suggested Luna.

“Yes, but I try to find a nice way to say different. Didn't know you had it in you.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and continued down the stairs, “Are you going to claim you were the one person not impressed at Yule Ball?”

“Nope, completely gobsmacked, like everyone else. But that dress had nothing on this one.” He made a circle motion with his finger.

“I was fifteen then.”

“Sure,” he agreed. “You both look beautiful.” He nodded to Luna, who smiled back.

“Thank you, Draco.”

“You're welcome. Uncle Roddy sent me to let you know people were arriving.” Together they descended to the reception area. Rodolphus allowed a small number of reporters to observe the beginnings of the evening at Narcissa's insistence. When the photographers moved to capture Hermione descending the last steps, both Draco and Luna held back, placing themselves in the background of the pictures. The Quibbler photographer managed to include Rodolphus and Bellatrix smiling up at her.

Both parents kissed her cheeks. Quietly Rodolphus checked that Hermione knew what to expect and was ready to begin greeting her guests. By the time the line ended, Hermione's cheeks ached from smiling so brightly. A few attendees had been a surprise, the Patils, the MacMillians, and the Browns to name a few. “Social climbers,” whispered Bellatrix, “behind closed doors, they might say things, but they jump at an invitation that seems like an opportunity to rub elbows with the elite. And make no mistake, we are the elite.” She raised an eyebrow daring Hermione to object or disagree.

“Of course, we are, Mummy Dearest.” Bellatrix grinned at her.

Rodolphus offered Hermione his arm, “We're skipping dinner and moving right to the mingling dancing portion. Any questions?”

“I don't think so, you and I start the dancing. At some point, I will dance with Bas, Lucius, and Draco, my other male relatives.”

“And the Dark Lord, he wishes to be seen as a grandfather figure.”

“Understood. I am free to dance or speak with anyone I like, but should consider anyone you introduce to me with the offer as someone acceptable for more serious considerations.”

“And Marcus cannot be the only one I introduce you to.”

“Fine, but he gets to be first.”

“As you like,” Rodolphus grumbled.

“We all know you can't refuse to make introductions, as much as you might like.” The three of them entered the grand ballroom as a unit, giving the photographers a moment to snap a few pictures before they separated. Bella moved to Voldemort's side while Rodolphus escorted Hermione onto the floor.

As they danced, Rodolphus continued to conversation, “Is there anyone else you would like included or excluded from your list of suitors?”

“As archaic as I find this, I suppose I don't know any of them well enough to ask for any of them to be included or excluded, other than Marcus. I trust your judgment but ask for not too many. I do not need some arse that won't take the hint and sod off.”

“I will be delighted to deal with those for you.”

“I believe you. I will keep that in mind.”

As their dance drew to a close, Rodolphus scanned the crowd and found Voldemort, the older wizard who shook his head. He wished to wait for his turn around the floor once fewer people were watching. When the music ended, Rodolphus escorted Hermione to Rabastan, signaling the beginning of the evening. While couples moved to join the uncle and niece, Rodolphus made his way to the Flints.

“Rodolphus,” nodded Merrick in greeting.

“Merrick,” he returned the greeting before turning to the younger son. “Unless you changed your mind, you're first.”

“Of course, he hasn't.” enthused Merrick.

“What idiot would?” asked Malcolm.

Rodolphus continued to look at Marcus, waiting for him to answer. “I can't think of anything that would ever change my mind.”

Rodolphus clapped him on the shoulder, “With me then.” And he led him over the Hermione as her dance with Rabastan came to an end. “Hermione, darling, allow me to introduce Marcus Flint, he would like the pleasure of a dance.”

Smoothly she slipped from Rabastan's arms and into Marcus's embrace, “Hello, Mr. Flint.”

“Miss Lestrange, shall we?” He waltzed her away from her father. “Salazar, I hate these things.”

She shrugged, “It doesn't seem too bad.”

“Wait until you're been forced into hours of banal chit-chat with fawning social climbers desperate to latch onto you. Add to that you are a captive audience to the charm offensive of your dance partners. When you take a break from that there will be the catty comments from any girls hoping to snag one of the men Lestrange will be introducing you to.”

“Don't you paint a fun picture.” she frowned.

“Sorry, I'm not looking forward to watching you dance with other men all night. I get this one dance. And yeah, going first, with Lestrange coming to me is a huge honor, that I am grateful to you both for, it also means losing you to other partners all night.”

“That part does stink, but it is one night. The last time such attention will be paid to whom I do or do not dance with.”

“I know,” he grumbled. “You look magnificent.”

“Thank you, you look rather dashing yourself.” She moved a half step closer than as proper. He tightened his arms around her. As the music slowed, she smiled up at Marcus, “Thank you for a wonderful first dance.”

“You are most welcome.”

“Would you do me a favor? Would you ask Luna Lovegood to dance, and make a few introductions for her? She came here for me, and doesn't know a lot of people.”

“Of course,” he kissed her hand. “Thank you for a lovely dance, Miss Lestrange.”

Adrian swooped over bowing slightly and holding out his hand, “May I have this dance, Miss Lestrange?”

“Certainly,” she took the proffered hand.

Marcus glared briefly at his mate. “Relax, we're going to be doing our best to help keep the wolves at bay.” Marcus relaxed and went in search of Luna.

“But, Mr. Pucey, who will protect you?”

“Don't worry about me, tonight you're the only prey anyone is paying any attention to.”

“You make this sound as delightful as Marcus did.”

Adrian laughed, “It can be.” He pulled her along the floor in a flamboyant manner. It was the last dance she enjoyed for the next hour. Two young men were nervous wrecks, stumbling over their words and stepping on her feet. Three of the men treated her as an object to be procured, with Rodolphus's good opinion being the only one they need. Relief flooded her when Lucius appeared, “Excuse me, old boy, just going to cut in and steal my niece away.” He patted her hand, “Let's get some food in you, shall we?”

“Yes, please.”

She filled her plate with delicacies as Lucius went to procure her a glass of wine. Grateful she sank into the chair. She said a prayer of thanks for cushioning charms. Nibbling on her food, she listened to the conversations around her. A nasal petulant whine reached her ears. “Did you see her dress? My mother would never let me wear something so revealing. She's so common, they cannot seriously think a handful of lessons will change anything.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, Pansy Parkinson, stupid slag just did not learn. She set her plate on the small table next to her and slowly stood and turned to the gathering behind her. Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Parkinson, Gemma Fawley, and an older girl she didn't know looked surprised to see her. Pansy paled. “What is it with you and your inability to keep from insulting your hosts? Your mother wouldn't allow you to wear this dress because you lack the figure or the poise to pull it off. As to your assessment of my being common, my personal vault before anything was added by my parents contains 65 million galleons. I've dined with royalty. I am descended from houses so ancient they existed before nobility.”

“What houses, you mean Black and Lestrange?” sneered Pansy, grasping for the line she thought would save her.

“I do not.” Hermione looked the girls over with cold eyes, “I suppose your parents are not high enough up the chain to know what's going on behind closed doors. Pity that.”

Lucius appeared at her elbow that moment, “Something amiss, pet?” He handed her a glass of wine and looked at the group before them.

Without breaking eye contact with Pansy, Hermione replied, “Not at all, Uncle Lucius, though someone should let the Parkinsons know they need to removed their trash.” She sipped the wine. “I'm off to mingle.” She turned on her heel and went in search of Luna determined to enjoy herself before Rodolphus claimed her for more dances.

Her next to last dance for the evening was with a man who looked to be in his late 20s, perhaps early 30s. Rodolphus did not seem pleased to be introducing him to Hermione, she could sense that he did not have much choice. “Hermione, may I introduce, Pavel Greyback?”

“Hello, Mr. Greyback.”

“No need for such formality, call be Pavel.” Without even a nod to Rodolphus, he grabbed Hermione and pulled her closer than was appropriate.

“I think there is quite a bit of need for formality, Mr. Greyback.” She pulled back. He responded by sliding his hand lower on her back. “You will cease to continue attempting to take liberties with my person, now.”

He laughed, “Just a little fun, love.” He again attempted to invade her personal dancing space.”

“This is your last warning, Mr. Greyback, I do not have to cause a scene to make you stop.”

He gave a gravelly chuckle, “I do like them feisty.”

“That was not a challenge.” He behaved for the next minute before he began to have roaming hands. She glared at him and he smirked. Without a word or gesture, she cast a silencing charm on him before reaching between them. Dropping her hand low she summoned a ball of lightning and sent a small bolt straight at his crotch. Silently, he screamed, his face contorted in pain. “Next time you touch me I will grab your crotch and let loose, do you understand me? Nod that you do.” He nodded. “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Greyback, you may see yourself out.” Wisely, he fled.

A concerned-looking Voldemort took his place. “Everything alright, my dear.”

“That man is not allowed in my presence ever again.”

“Something I need to be aware of?” With a grandfatherly air, he led her around the dance floor.

“I did not appreciate his lack of respect. He was warned. He chose to ignore that warning. He will not repeat the mistake, I think. Rather than start issues amongst your ranks let this be the end of it. If he is stupid enough to do something again I will bring you his charred remains and let you soothe the hurt feelings.”

Voldemort stared at her for a moment, then flung his head back laughing. “Rodolphus is right, you do have the most delightful violent streak.”

-oOoOo-

The gossip columns glowed with praise the next morning, describing the night as a smashing success. “Miss Lestrange carried herself with poise and grace.” One photograph showed a radiant adult-looking Hermione standing in the receiving line, while another showed her laughing with Luna while Graham made a joke. At Malfoy Manor and Lestrange Hall, the inhabitants smiled, pleased with the coverage. The reporters had missed young Miss Parkinson's grumblings before her parents angrily whisked her home. The papers declared the night a rousing success all around.

At Prewett Estates the reactions differed. Arthur watched his family's various reactions with concern. Molly and Ron fumed at Luna's enjoyment at attending though Harry pointed out she was part of the press. Ginny made jealous catty comments about the expensive gowns worn by the women pictured. Ron stewed furiously. Harry sighed heavily at that, Ron's foul mood had continued from Tuesday. He thought Ron was taking his team's loss as a personal insult. He examined the photographs wondering why the Lestrange heiress looked so familiar, he knew they had never met. The twins remained uncharacteristically silent about the matter. When Ron wanted to rush over to the Rookery they stopped him cold.

“You need to sit right back down, Ronniekins,” Fred said harshly.

George nodded, “You are the last person who gets to storm off and demand explanations from anyone.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” shouted Ron.

“You boys leave Ron alone,” Molly glared at them before bustling to serve breakfast.

“No,” said George coldly, “I don't think we will.”

“Now, boys,” Molly started but Fred interrupted.

“No, Mum, we're adults, so is Ron. His days of hiding behind you while you defend him are over.” Fred looked squarely at Ron and Harry, “Where is Hermione?”

Ron sputtered. Harry stared at the table, “We don't know.”

“No body, no blood, no gloating, this is serious. We need to find her.” Fred stated.

Molly rolled her eyes, “Hermione is an adult, she can take care of herself.”

“Why don't you want to look for her, Mum?” George asked, surprised at his mother's attitude.

“I never said I didn't. It isn't safe, it could be a trap for Harry.”

Ron's ears reddened, “Why do you care so much? She was my girlfriend.”

“She IS our friend. And we don't like how you keep referring to her in the past tense and don't seem the least bit concerned about what happened to her.” Fred glared at his younger brother.

“Wotcher, Weasleys,” Tonks's cheerful greeting interrupted the beginnings of a fight.

“No Remus?” asked Arthur smiling at the younger woman.

“Nah, I'm on my way to work. Just popped in to check on people.”

“Any leads on where this Lestrange girl came from?” demanded Ron.
“Any leads on where Hermione is?” asked Fred, glaring at his youngest brother.

“No to both those questions, sorry.”

“I miss having someone on the other side,” George grumbled.

“Snape would have at least known if they had Mione,” agreed Fred.

Tonks sighed, “That would make it easier, wouldn't it?”

“Yes, well, he showed his true colors. No use closing the gate after the cow's run-off. Now, eat,” she gestured the food before them.

Arthur frowned, “I'm more concerned with the new legislation walking back the more oppressive laws, especially for muggleborns.”

“How can that be a bad thing?” inquired Harry.

“By decreasing the violent attacks, the restrictive laws, they lull the populace into a false sense of security.” Arthur told him.

“They will forget why we need to resist You-Know-Who,” Molly firmly told her family. “And too many of them already hideaway, or hope that appeasement will stop the Death Eaters.”

“But wouldn't a peaceful solution be best?” Harry wondered confused by this.

“Never,” snapped Molly, “those monsters need to pay for what they have done.” Her tone ended all conversation at the table.

The twins left with Tonks. Muriel refused to allow them to use the floo to travel to work, paranoid it would leave hers open to invasion. They walked to the edge of the wards. Fred broached the subject that both wizards worried about,” Is there anything we can do to help Mione?”

“Remus is researching location methods. He's as frustrated as you with some of the others.” She looked away briefly.

George jumped on her tell, “What else, there's more, isn't there? What are we being told?”

Tonks' bubblegum pink hair shifted to her natural brown. “My Aunt Narcissa reached out to Mum. The Death Eaters want to start talking truce and peace terms.”

“Mum would never agree,” Fred looked at the ground sadly.

George agreed, “She wants blood.”

“I don't think Moody would.” Tonks told them, “Hestia Jones and Daedelus Diggle aren't on board, either.”

George sighed, “I'm tired of fighting. Things don't seem as bad as they used to be, or how they were the first time.”

Thinking of her infant son, Tonks sighed again, “I want to raise Teddy in a safe world.”

“Tell your mum to talk to her sister. If nothing else, we might learn if they know anything about Hermione.” Fred said.

“Regardless we'll keep trying to find her. It would help if we knew why she disappeared, or where. Neither Harry nor Ron are entirely clear where they were camping or when she went missing.”

“Because Mione was clearly the brains and the planner,” Fred muttered.

“Let us know if we can help,” George waved farewell. He turned to his twin, “I think it is time to move back to the flat. The shop has been perfectly safe, and we might be wanting privacy sooner rather than later.” Fred nodded looking thoughtful.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19 Forward Movement

Wanting to research a muggle medical concept, Hermione apparated to Courtenay Avenue, there opting to drive to the local library. She selected her mother's Audi 8 from the garage. Her mum loved the car, frequently taking it to be washed and detailed. She fought long and hard to maintain the clean new car smell. Driving it made Hermione miss Eleanor and feel closer to her.

The library remained the way she remembered it. Bright white walls adorned with colorful signs meant to encourage reading. Reference desk on the side of the check-in/check-out counter. She turned the cement and metal staircase to the right and made her way up the periodical balcony. She asked for directions to the medical journals.

During a throwaway conversation, someone mentioned the Longbottoms, which caused her to start thinking about their condition. A handful of questions began percolating in the back of her mind. She remembered thinking how much they reminded her of people describing shell-shocked World War 1 soldiers. When the

Two hours later her table in the stakes resembled an orderly polite tornado. No bent pages or rips, just haphazard placement like the tornado had another thought occur and needed a new magazine. A small notepad lay in the middle of the chaos covered in notes. The researcher looked around, ensuring she had privacy before duplicating the journals and placing the magical copies in her beaded bag. She stack the originals on the table for the librarian to re-shelf and left the library to head for the center of London.

Entering the out-of-order telephone booth, Hermione grinned as she dialed 6-2-4-4-2. Once in the ministry, she made her way to the security desk. “Hello, Mr. Munch,” she beamed at the guard.

“Er, hello, miss. Your wand?” She handed him her wand for him to scan. “Where are you off to, Miss Lestrange?”

“I wanted to see Mr. Yaxley. I have something for him.”

“I'm sure he'll be delighted to see you. Here's your pass.”

“Thank you, Mr. Munch,” she flashed him another brilliant smile.
She warmly greeted the workers she knew as a Lestrange, even engaging a few in conversation. No one she encountered guessed she was not raised as the pureblood princess she now was. Even Yaxely's personal assistant smiled indulgently at her. “May I help you, miss?” he gave her an appraising look. Playing into his expectations, she preened before answering.

“I wanted to see Corbin,” then she burst into giggles like she remembered Ginny doing around cute boys.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Yaxley is in an important meeting at the moment. Are you sure I can't help you?”

“Nope, sorry. You aren't Corbin. I'll just wait.” She pranced around the desk and stole his seat.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Waiting,” she replied as if it was the most obvious thing.

“You cannot do that!”

“I can't wait?” she asked innocently.

“Not there.”

“Why ever not?”

“That is my desk,” he glared at her.

She frowned, “Are you mean to all of Corbin's visitors?”

He reared back, insulted, “Certainly not!”

“So, you just don't like me?” her lower lip stuck out in a pout, quivering slightly.

“I never said that.”

“But I can't use your seat. You want me to stand?”

“I never said that either. You just can't wait here, you have to leave. I will let Mr. Yaxley know you were here.

“Because you don't like me!” Hermione wailed.

“Miss Lestrange, please stop tormenting my assistant. Good ones are hard to find, don't break mine.”

“But he made it so easy,” she whined. “Hello, Yaxley,” she grinned.

He laughed, “Cornelius, may I introduce Hermione Lestrange. Hermione, Cornelius Baptiste, Head of International Cooperation. Also, my assistant, Warwick Montague.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Mine as well, Miss Lestrange.” Cornelius turned to Yaxley, “I will consider your argument.”

“All I ask is an open mind.” Once the older man left Yaxley returned his attention to Montague. “Don't let pretty girls fluster you. They aren't always as dumb as they act.”

“If you say so, sir.”

Yaxley chuckled, “Hermione here beat your best NEWT score with her worst. But, if you need more proof, what brings you here, poppet?”

“I'm researching the possibility that prolonged exposure to the torture curse could cause post traumatic stress disorder catatonia. I'm wondering if the muggle treatment of benzodiazepine and/or electroconvulsive therapy could help. Do you have a contact at St Mungo's? I have research for them.”

Smirking Yaxley looked at Montague, “See? Don't underestimate witches based on looks.”

“Or wizards,” chirped Hermione, “don't be sexist, Yaxley.”

“Or wizards. As to the contact, your Uncle Lucius is better placed than I am in that regard.”

“Then, I guess I am off to his offices.”

“I'll let him know you are coming. Try not to have too much fun terrorizing his staff.”

“But they make it so easy,” she protested.

“Go, spread your chaos elsewhere,” he ordered.

“Spoilsport.”

Lucius's gatekeepers proved more capable, being more experienced at rebuffing unannounced visitors. The matronly woman peered at Hermione over her spectacles, “Do you have an appointment, young lady?”

“Not exactly,” Hermione gave her a coy smile, “but I am here to see Mr. Malfoy, please.”

“Both Misters Malfoys are indisposed. Would you like to make an appointment? Mr. Lucius Malfoy has an opening in four months, but Mr. Draco Malfoy should be able to see you next week.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose, “Draco is of little to no use, no thanks.” The receptionist struggled to keep from smiling. Fresh from school, Draco was still learning the ropes, disrupting the woman's well oiled machine. “No, I need Lucius.” Hermione cocked her head to the side, looking every inch a paragon of innocence, “Maybe if you let him know Hermione is here?”

“Now, young lady, I do not know what kind of game you are playing, but you cannot come in here making veiled inferences of your supposed importance. If Mr. Malfoy smiled at you or suggested you should come see him someday, I assure you he was being kind, but insincere. He did not mean it.”

“I think he would appreciate it if you let him know I am here, please.”

“You must desist. Mr. Malfoy is a busy man.”

“Hermione? Is that you?” Lucius interrupted the woman.

“Uncle Lucius, hello.” She grinned at him.

“A lovely surprise. I was just coming to let Ms. Hannigan know you were coming.”

“She's very good at her job. She deserves a bonus.”

“Does she?” he looked over at the flustered receptionist. “If you insist.”

“She was very firm about not allowing me through. And even if she thought I might be a possible affair, she never suggested you would stoop to having one,” Hermione smiled impishly.

“Your aunt would skin me alive and use me as a rug.”

“No, that would be tacky. She'd use you as fertilizer.”

“Agreed. So, a bonus for Ms. Hannigan? Done, shall we adjourn to my office?” He led her to the lifts and up to his 8th-floor office. “Yaxley said he was unable to help you?”

“He felt you would be better connected at St. Mungo's.” She explained her theory.

“May I ask why? I will help you regardless, I am just curious.”

“Albus Dumbledore manipulated Augusta Longbottom to fear Neville might be the Chosen One. She's done her best to repress his magical abilities, while still lamenting he is not his father. That isn't fair to Neville. She even made him use his father's wand, once he stopped his magic improved greatly. He never should have been using that wand.”

“And how does restoring his parents change anything?”

“It gives him his parents back. It rights one of the many wrongs done by Albus Dumbledore's greater good.”

“I will pass these along to the leader of the research team.”

“I want all researchers on the team to get recognition. Some pureblood isn't going to force all the work on some muggleborns because they don't understand the science, then swoop in and take complete credit.”

“That can be arranged.” Lucius looked uneasy.

“Relax, the Dark Lord won't punish you for letting them take credit.”

“I am more worried about convincing the purebloods.”

“I have complete faith in your powers of persuasion. They can be on the forefront of change.”

“The Dark Lord did mention a way to assimilate muggleborns into our society.”

“Yes, but those are his plans. Mine is to undo as much of the damage done by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore as possible, at least for now.”

“And later?”

Hermione shrugged, “Who knows?”

“Any other wrongs you intend to right?”

“Baby steps, Uncle, baby steps.”

-oOoOo-

Before writing to Neville, Hermione decided to talk it over with Luna. She invited the blonde over to revise for her NEWTs as well. Expecting company, she called out at the knock without looking, “Come in.” She continued, “Hey, Lu, I just wondered,” She turned to find Marcus watching her from the doorway, grinning. “You are not Luna.”

“No, I am not. Does this mean I should leave?”

“I suppose not. Luna does need to meet you and you need to meet her. Stay.”

He walked into the room, “You look nervous, why? I know who Luna Lovegood is, and if she's anything like Selene, it should be fine.”

Laughter startled both of them. “I'm so happy we'll be getting along then.” Luna entered. “Hello, Hermione. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Flint.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Lovegood,” he took her hand, pressing a dry kiss to the back of it.

Luna tittered, “Such formality.”

“You started it, I just followed your lead, call me Marcus.”

“Call me Luna.”

“Peregrine thinks it is odd that so many of your friends are named after the moon,” he remarked.

“Only the one,” Hermione quipped.

“No, Luna is one, Selene is two.”

“No, only one,” she kissed his cheek.

“Because Luna is Selene,” he guessed.

“I always knew you were smarter than people claimed,” Luna laughed.

“Cuter, too,” added Hermione.

He ran his hand through his hair, “Graham is going to love this.”

“Come again? Why would he care?”

“He fancies both of them and worried if he ended up hurting one of them while trying to get to know them, you would kill him. Now, he can relax, they are the same person.”

“Who knows he fancies her,” Hermione pointed out.

“Is dating an older man nice?”

“It has some perks, I quite like it.”

“Pardons, mistress, these arrived for you,” Maisie delivered a large bouquet.

Hermione groaned at the sight, “Not again.”

Marcus frowned, “Who are those from?”

“Pavel Greyback, Fenrir's nephew, he keeps sending me flowers and such. I sent the last three back. He refuses to take the hint.” She pulled her wand and decapitated the flowers. She incinerated the petals. She scooped the ashes into the vase of stems. “Maisie, please send these back to their sender.”

“Has he been bothering you?” Marcus asked.

“Lord Voldemort banished him from my presence at my request. He persists in sending gifts. If that changes I will let you know.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Luna broke in, “This isn't what you wanted to discuss.”

“It is not. I want to reach out to Neville. He deserves to know what happened to his parents, why his grandmother treats him as she does, and to let St. Mungo's try the new treatment I suggested.”

“You don't know what to say?” Luna asked.

“Or where to meet, I cannot invite him here. Mummy Dearest and I barely tolerate each other most of the time.”

“And she's the one who tortured them,” Marcus said.

“I'll be nervous enough without adding that once we meet he'll know what happened to Hermione Granger. If this goes badly my last memory of Neville will be of turning my wand on my friend erasing that knowledge.”

“Meet somewhere out of the way,” Marcus suggested.”Peregrine and I, or Cassius, can be watching. If need be, one of them can do it.”

“Do you think they would?”

“Of course, they're your friends, too.”

Luna stared at the stationary thoughtfully, “How about the truth, or at least half of the truth?”

“Go on,” urged Hermione.

“An old friend learned some concerning news he deserves to know and wants to meet.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Hermione quickly penned the note, “I asked him to reply with a time via owl. If he doesn't reply, I will assume he doesn't want to meet and won't trouble him again.” Luna squeezed her hand. Hermione looked at Marcus, “We planned on revising. August is nearly over, Lu has to test next week or return to school.”

“So study. I just wanted to spend time with you.”

By the end of the evening, Luna proclaimed herself ready. “Relax, Mione, I'm not you. I don't want top scores, just enough to pass and be proclaimed finished. My life plan is to help Daddy run the Quibbler and search for exotic animals.”

Hermione signed, “You are your own person. Still, good luck.”

“Thanks,” Luna smiled, her eyes dancing with mischief, “Perhaps Marcus should reward you for such a mature attitude?”

He smirked at the blonde, “I most assuredly can.” He leered at his girlfriend who swotted him.

Luna giggled, “Is that my cue to leave?”

“No,” Hermione responded.

“Yes,” Marcus said at the same time.

“Hmm, who to listen to? My host or her boy toy?”

“Oi, he is not my boy toy. No more muggle movies for you,” Hermione protested.

“If it means you play with me and I get to play with you, I could be your boy toy,” he offered.

“Do not encourage her,” she reprimanded.

“No, but you need fun and distraction. Let me know what Neville says.”

“I will,” she walked her friend to the floo.

“Let him take care of you, remember everything he does is because he wants to.”

“Goodbye, Luna.”

“I'm just trying to give you good advice.”

Hermione sighed, “We've been dating barely three months, that feels early to be getting that intimate.”

“Are you worried about what others will think?” Luna cocked her head to the side.

“No.”

“Are you worried that Marcus will get tired of you and leave you broken again?”

“Again? Luna, I'm still broken. Just because some of the pieces aren't jagged anymore doesn't mean none of them cut.”

“You're right, I'm sorry. You just mask the pain so well most of the time.” Luna embraced her. “Go share your pain and let him make it better.”

“No one wants an emotionally needy girlfriend,” Hermione snapped back.

Luna smiled sadly, “Is that you, or Ron, speaking?” Hermione glared at her. “Marcus,” she emphasized his name, “is waiting.”

“I hate you right now.”

“I love you. The Rookery.” Luna vanished in a swirl of green flames. Hermione returned to the parlor, dark thoughts twisting in her brain with every step. Was she afraid Marcus would tire of her? Would she recognize the signs of disinterest? Luna was right, she needed to discuss these thoughts with one person with answers.

Something must have shown on her face when she entered the room. Marcus immediately stood, “What happened? Did Longbottom refuse?”

“No, nothing like that. Luna's teasing turned into that ability of hers to see issues you are ignoring.”

“And those issues involve me?” he looked concerned. “Have I done something?”

She shook her head, “Again nothing like that.” She walked into his outstretched arms. He pulled her to him. “I know I don't seem it, but I am still broken inside.” He rocked her gently. “I hide it well because I learned no one wanted to know how I felt. All those orders just worsened traits I already possessed.” She swallowed, “I know I'm not as experienced as most groupies are, or other women you might know. And my last partner did little to boost my confidence there. I am nervous about moving too fast and having stronger feelings and having stronger feelings than you. Then I fret about moving too slowly and you giving up because I'm too messed up.”

“Impossible. I'm sure you're imagining wild orgies of debauchery, but not my style. I prefer classy smart witches. The kind that expects more than a one night stand. And usually the ones with no interest in a second son with bad teeth and rough looks. A bloke so dumb he had to repeat his seventh year. I preferred quidditch and it showed. Though, it did mean I got to see you all dolled up for the Yule Ball.” He tightened his arms around her. “And when we remove Weasley from the count- you seem to prefer burly quidditch players.”

“You're saying we're both each other's type, and we're both insecure about things, and that's okay.”

“Pretty close. I would add we both get to decide how far and how fast we move. No one else gets a say.”

“I like that,” she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Me, too.” He kissed the top of her head. “I don't really want to go out, but I also don't want to just sit here listening to the radio, you know?”

“Yeah, I wish wizards had telly, wonderful brainless telly. Not always brainless, but it can be effortless entertainment.”

“Sounds night. Wish we did have something like that.”

An idea occurred to Hermione, “Wizards might not have a telly, but I do.”

“I'm confused.”

“I still own my childhood home. I kept the electricity on and the satellite hooked up.” She nibbled her lower lip, “And I want to share that little bit of my past with you.”

“Really?” his eyes widened in surprise.

“Yeah. Are you scared?”

“Of what? Muggle cooties? If those were real you would have given to me before now.”

She rolled her eyes, “Give me a minute a few minutes to add you to the wards.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 20 Neville

He sat, trying not to watch the clock while he waited. Twenty minutes later she popped back. “Sorry, I decided to get everything set up. Then come get you. I don't feel up to the full tour and inevitable question and answer session.”

“Another time then,” he nodded.

She apparated them directly into the rec room the Grangers used as an at home movie screen. She had pilled pillows against the sofa and spread snacks on the blanket on the floor, just popcorn and small cans of soda. Marcus looked around at the lamps and large television screen. “This is the telly then?”

“Yes, it uses electricity to illuminate and display moving images it receives from the satellite up-link. It also projects sound. But I thought we would watch a DVD instead.” Hermione explained. “I picked a childhood favorite, a fairy tale. That way there is less technology and social context to explain.”

“Sounds good.”

“It's animated, which means it is drawings that move around,” she rambled nervously.

“Hermione. It will be fine. Relax.”

“Sorry. My experience with introducing purebloods to muggle things with mixed results.”

“I will survive.”

“The story does have a little magic in it,” She snuggled into his side and started the movie.

She worried Marcus would find the animated film childish or silly. When he grumbled about how unfair the stepmother was she realized he was invested. He laughed at the right places and wrapped his arms around her when Cinderella danced with the Prince without even realizing it. “That is bullshite,” he muttered under his breath when Lady Tremaine shattered the slipper. He smiled when it finished.
“This was so much better than just listening on the radio.”

“I hope the wizarding world gets something like it.” She stood and stretched. “Let's clean up and head home.”

“Want to just leave the pillows for next time?” he asked hesitantly.

“That's a great idea, it'll save time.” Before picking up the bowls she hugged him. “Thank you for this. I need it more than I know.”

“You're welcome, little dove.”

At breakfast the next morning an unknown owl delivered a letter to Hermione, Neville's reply. He agreed to meet at a cafe a block and a half from the Leaky Cauldron in muggle London that afternoon. She owled Marcus the details. Rabastan noticed how pale she looked and voiced his concern, “Feeling okay there?”

“Yes. No, I don't know. I want to help the other people Dumbledore hurt, but what if they reject the new me?”

“There will be people who can't accept your life choices. But remember, they are your choices. And they were the best ones at the time. Never let anyone make you feel bad about them.”

“I won't, Uncle Bas.”

He grinned, “I love the sound of that name.”

“Neville was my first friend.”

“In the wizarding world?”

“Ever, that's why this is so frightening. No one likes being rejected, even if the other person won't remember.”

“You're going to alter his memories?”

She shook her head, “No, Cassius or Peregrine will. He'll remember a dark haired woman telling him of a possible new treatment for his parents, to please consider allowing the team to treat them. He just won't be able to remember her name or face, or the other parts of the conversation.”

“Very practical of you,” he praised.

“And so logical, just so Hermione,” she tried not to sound bitter.

“Yes, well, I don't think logical is so bad in this instance.”

“I suppose we'll see.” She stood, “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, pet.”

Unable to concentrate on anything else, she sat down and made lists: the people Dumbledore enslaved, the ones whose lives were destroyed for his greater good, and the accomplices he bullied into not only silence but assistance. Moments like this she appreciated the convenience of a mole. Want to know how someone feels? Have the mole feel them out. Someone to gather intel to help make the really hard decisions.

Twenty minutes before the scheduled meeting, Hermione and her entourage arrived. With her help, they ordered and selected a table where they could easily see her, but Neville was unlikely to notice them. “Good luck,” Marcus kissed her forehead, “we're right here if you need us.”

“Thank you,” she ordered a cup of tea and an assortment of biscuits and cakes to snack on. She tried not to fidget as she waited.

The bell above the door rang exactly on the hour. She looked up to see Neville Longbottom scanning the tables. Adjusting the hat with a fake bluebird on it, she sat up straighter. She waved when he noticed her. “Interesting choice of hat,” he said sitting down.

“I thought you might find it amusing,” she gave him a shy smile.

“HERMIONE!” he shouted before repeating himself in a quieter voice, “Hermione, where have you been? Where are Harry and Ron? Are you okay?”

“Hello, Neville. Why don't you order some tea? This may take a while.” She motioned for the waiter. Once he delivered the pot she continued. “I have no idea where Harry and Ron are. I discovered Ron cheating on me with Harry, left, and have since discovered Dumbledore, and later Mrs. Weasley, have been forcing me to help them, especially Harry, even to my own detriment.”

“How? The Impervious?”

“No, obedience charms.”

Neville stared at her in shock, “Oh, wow.”

“I'm not the only one,” she gave him a pointed look.

“Me?” he looked incredulous.

“Not quite, or rather, not Dumbledore.”

“Who?”

“Dumbledore convinced your Gran to get you to suppress your abilities so Harry would be the clear threat.”

“But she always complained about it.”

“Yet demanded you use your father's wand, follow in his footsteps, even though it was clear in first year where your aptitude lied. I'm not saying she charmed you, but she sabotaged you on Dumbledore's instructions. And the pressure she heaped on you made things worse.”

“But why?” his eyes widened in bewilderment.

“To ensure Harry remained the most likely candidate for the prophecy. To make you thankful for any assistance the light gave you, malleable to Albus Dumbledore's whims, grateful for his good favor. And, worst of all, so his vision of the greater good could prevail.”
His face twisted and he took a drink of his tea. “This feels so far fetched, Mione.”

“Neville, have I ever lied to you?”

“No.”

“Have I ever misrepresented the facts?”

“No, you've always faced them head on.”

“Then why would I exaggerate or lie now?”

“You wouldn't.” He hung his head, “If you left Harry and Ron does that mean you've joined the other side?”

“I'm on my side, and I'm dealing with this my way. Right now I am letting my fellow abused know what went down. Then I will allow the accomplices to confess before vengeance is served.”

“You mean revenge.”

She shrugged, “If you like. Either way, I am not going to slink off and fade from memory.”
To give himself time to think, he took a biscuit off the plate between them. “You won't do anything to Gran?”

“Neville, she's done nothing to me, if you don't want to do anything, I wouldn't presume to decide that for you.” He relaxed, “Though you may not like the next thing I tell you. All I ask is that you hear me out and read the letter I have for you.”

“Okay.”

“I need a wizard's oath.”

“I swear on my magic to hear Hermione out and read her letter.”

“I allowed Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange to adopt me.” He stiffened and nearly stood. “Read the letter then ask your questions.” He took the roll of parchment from her.

Greetings, Mr. Longbottom,

My name is Rodolphus Lestrange, and I fear through my inaction I have allowed harm to come to your House. I never imagined Bellatrix would lose herself so deeply as to drive your parents so far into their minds. I also admit to underestimating Crouch, Jr's zealotry. Words of apology cannot even begin to clear the debt owed, though you deserve them. My brother, Rabastan, and I both deeply regret and beg your pardon for not stopping them that night.

To further discharge our debt we are funding research to treat their condition. Hermione suggested it and assures us that at worst nothing changes. She hopes it will reverse the damage. St Mungo's has been directed to send all bills for this treatment to us to pay anonymously. No one save yourself and those you choose to tell will ever know who paid for it, not even Hermione. Unless she broke the seal and read this before giving it to you. Something I would not put past her. The only thing we would as of you is to allow the treatment to be attempted.
If you desire any other restitution, please let us know. We wish to make this right, because we regret it, and for Hermione's sake. She is terrified of losing her oldest friend.

Thank you for reading,
Rodolphus Lestrange
Rabastan Lestranges

He reread the letter before looking at Hermione. “You suggested the treatments?”

“I did.”

“Is it safe?”

“Yes. Muggles have been using this kind of treatment for decades.”

“Why?”
“Why what, Neville?”

“Why do you want to help my parents?”

She looked confused, “Because you're my friend, my first friend, and if I can give you back your parents then I want to.” She ran her thumbnail along a ridge in the tabletop.

Neville took a deep breath, “What about You-Know-Who?”

“What about him?”

“You're okay with the Death Eaters now?”

“Not all of it, but I'm working on it.”

“Because they listen to you?” Neville scoffed.

“He does. His Inner Circle does. The Order hasn't been all that great, either. I've planted some ideas. I'm playing the long game.”

“And if that doesn't work?”

“I walk away. And before you ask, yes, I can. Yes, he would let me. There's more but I'm not willing to say in public, even this public. Aspects about me that Dumbledore sought to repress because he didn't know how or if it would benefit his vision.”

“You-Know-Who isn't trying?”

“Of course he is, but he can't hurt me or have me hurt. He would lose his magic. I wanted to learn dark, so I know what's out there. I discovered not all of them are violent sociopaths. And some might need to have accidents like falling into a flurry of hexes.” She made and held eye contact. “I am very aware they are the lesser of two evils. But they have become the evil I can influence.”

“This, this is a lot to take in,” he said softly, running his thumb along the teacup rim.

“I know,” she whispered.

“Does anyone else know about you?”

“Luna, she's known since Hogwarts when I took my NEWTs.”

“In disguise?”

“Of course, Hermione Granger is still Undesirable Number 2.”

“She's okay with everything?”

“Taking her exams early to avoid the dangers our friendship being discovered could cause. She may be beginning a relationship with Graham Montague, but I'm not entirely sure.”

After a moment of silence, Neville sighed, “You were my first friend, too. And you always stood by your friends. It would be complete bollocks to abandon you now. Just, please, don't invite me over.”

She laughed with relief, “That feels like a step too far, too soon. But I would love to see you again, and owl to keep in touch.”

“Me, too.”

“Keep me posted about your parents.” She stood and came around the table to hug him.

“I will.” Neville returned her hug.

Marcus and Cassius made their way across the cafe. Hermione smiled at them, “Oh, Neville, this is my boyfriend, Marcus Flint, and my friend, Cassius Warrington. Marcus, Cas, this is my oldest friend, Neville Longbottom.”

“Nice to meet you, Longbottom,” Marcus offered his hand, “Hermione's told me all about you.

Neville instantly returned his handshake, “Good things, I hope.”

“Certainly,” Marcus assured him.
Cassius offered his hand, “Don't worry, she's told me nothing, so blank slate.” The four of them laughed. They parted after making plans to meet the next week.

“Good meeting?” Marcus slung his arm across her shoulders.

“Rather. Thank you both for being here.”

Lucius assured her that the Longbottoms would be at the top of the list for the experimental treatment. The healers believed they had worked out the proper amount of shock and how to deliver it. Though they would be using the muggle medication until the success rate warranted the effort of creating a new potion from scratch. The experiment would begin the first week of September.

Luna scheduled and took her NEWTs on the last day of July, Harry's birthday. The girls met for lunch that afternoon. Eventually, Luna addressed the elephant in the room, “It's Harry's birthday.”

“It is. And I don't know why I feel sad about missing it. I doubt he's missing me.”

“You were best friends for seven years. You nearly died for one another numerous times. And there were good times in with the bad.”

“Then why is it so easy to not miss Ron?”

“You tell me,” Luna raised a questioning eyebrow.

Hermione sighed, “We were friends because of Harry and Dumbledore's magic. And that taints everything. I think Harry and I were friends despite the magic.”

“I'm sad, too. My only friend not in some form of hiding is Neville, and he's beside himself about his parents.”

“I hope it works. He deserves his parents back.”

“Everyone does.” Luna agreed softly.

“I wish I could bring her back,” whispered Hermione.

“And I wish I could bring your other parents back for you.”

“Ugh,” Hermione scrubbed her face in her hands, “we are supposed to be celebrating your new independence from formal education, not depress ourselves.”

Luna shrugged and picked up her glass, “Here's to friends present and past.” They touched glasses and drank.

-oOoOo-

After ensuring they had Kreacher occupied elsewhere, Harry and Ron entertained themselves debauching every room in Grimmauld Place.
As the afternoon lengthened they took a lingering shower together and flooed to Shell Cottage where Molly bustled about preparing Harry's birthday feast. “I hope by the next celebration we are back home,” she muttered under her breath.

Fred looked up from the paper he and George were studying, “We reopened the shop without trouble. Dad, Tonks, and Kings have all gone back to work without issues. It should be safe enough.”

“That's what we all thought during the last war. I don't know if anywhere is safe.”

Fred wondered how much of this was trauma from two wars and how much was denial that they were losing and therefore seen as unimportant. “If we let them force us into running and hiding they win,” Fred said softly. His mother hummed and ignored him. Before anyone else could say anything, Ron and Harry entered the room. Wishes for many happy returns came from every corner. Molly hustled them all out onto the beach to eat.

Uncharacteristically, Ginny offered to pour drinks before her mother could order her to. Ron gave her a funny look, resulting in her slapping him upside the head. She handed Harry the last glass. “Happy birthday, Harry.” She gave him a shy smile, peering at him through her eyelashes.

“Thanks, Gin.” Once he took a long drink she placed the pitcher on the table and took a seat beside him. He flashed her a goofy grin before turning his attention to godson. Throughout the rest of the evening, he found himself watching her, or seeking out her attention.
Until, “Um, Harry?”

“Yes?”

“I think I forgot some stuff at number 12. Stuff I kind of need. Do you think it would be safe for me to pop over and look?”

“If I go with you, sure.” He smirked at her.

“Could we?” she asked coyly.

“Let your mum know so she doesn't worry.”

“Will do,” she scampered off to find Molly.

Ron walked over, “What did Ginny want?”

“She thinks she left something at Grimmauld and wants to go look.”

“I'll come with you.”

Harry didn't want Ron coming with them, even if he didn't quite know why, “Nah, if we both go your mum will claim it isn't safe and start pushing us to join them at Muriel's.”

Ron shuddered, “Good point.”

Nearly two hours after they left, Ginny returned empty-handed and laughing. “Did you find it?” demanded Ron, annoyed they had been gone so long.

Ginny flashed her empty hands, “Obviously not, otherwise it wouldn't have taken so long, now would it?” She rolled her eyes, “It must be at home.”

Back at Aunt Muriel's Ginny informed her mother of her success, but Harry's hesitancy to upset Ron. “He thinks he could convince him to move back to the Burrow if you're there cooking because you would need our support.”

“I suppose it would be nice to be in our own space again.”

“And give Harry his own room for privacy,” Ginny smirked.

“Just be careful, you don't need a child until he's bored in the marriage.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, “Yes, mother.” Personally, she thought Harry, like her father, would be more likely to jump into marriage quicker if a baby was coming. She made her way into the room she had shared with the twins until they reopened the store and moved back into their flat. The violent attacks had ceased, and things resembled the way life had been before Voldemort's physical return. Ginny climbed into bed hoping Harry was awake, unable to sleep for thinking of her and her birthday gift.

He was. He lay next to Ron trying to decide if he should tell him what happened and if he should feel guilty about it. Ultimately he determined Ron insisted on dating first Lavender, then Hermione to veil their relationship, it was Harry's turn to protect them. And have some fun while he did. Satisfied at reaching a solution, he rolled onto his side to sleep, facing away from Ron for the first time since they began sharing a bed.

Chapter Text

Chapter 21 Faces From the Past

Luna informed Hermione when the Weasleys returned to the Burrow, “They haven't been over to check on us, which is somewhat rude as we kept an eye on the property after they fled. Even straightened up after the wedding.”

“I'm sure one of them will be by when they want something,”

Hermione assured her before changing the subject. “Neville is super excited about the treatment.”

“This could be so good,” Luna agreed.

“I know, he's trying not to get his hopes up too much.”

“I don't blame him,” Luna smiled sadly.

“If it goes well enough this will go far to show how we can improve muggle things for our own benefit.”

“Which we already do,” Luna pointed out.

“But not in ways that help muggleborns become more accepted, and we're decades behind the times. Voldemort instructed them to work on movies or television next.”

Luna frowned, “Why is he agreeing to all this?”

“I'm giving him what he wants- unending power. In exchange, I get peace and social change.”

“And if he backslides?”

“What makes you think I don't already have a contingency plan?” smirked Hermione. She examined her fingernails idly, “Someday he may discover I know where his prized possessions are.”

“Blackmail?”

“Oh no, worse. I don't have them. But I know what I am looking for and I have some ideas of where to look.”

“Can I help?” Luna asked.

“If you want. I'll let you know when I go hunting.”

“On to happier news, Graham asked me to go with him to the International Quidditch Event.”

“As Luna or Selene?”

“Either. He says it is my choice.” She sighed, “I know going as Selene is safer, but the whole point of taking my NEWTs early was so I didn't have to hide.”

“I support whatever you want to do. I will be accompanying Marcus, so we will be there to support you, and Ades.”

“Luna Lovegood it is. Do you want to go dress shopping?”

“Want to invite Alex and Van?”

Luna looked uncertain, “I kind of just wanted to go by ourselves.”

“I like that option, too.” Hermione grinned, “Tomorrow?”

“Sure. I'm helping Daddy with the Quibbler in the morning. That is the official reason I tested early, to help my family business.”

“I have a meeting at the Ministry in the morning.”

Corbin Yaxley fell in step with Hermione as she crossed the atrium. “I'll double whatever Dobbs offers.”

“Good morning, Yaxley.”

“I mean it. Come work for me.”

“I'm doing well this morning. How are you?”

“Your talents will be wasted by that fop.”

“You are aware I am here to review his department's attempts at cinema production, right?”

Yaxley faltered, “Uh, no, I did not.”

“Yes.”

Department Ernest Dobbs listened to Hermione's explanations and watched her pensieve memories of the experience. He immediately began interviewing his staff for those with muggle expertise. With the return of their wands and official findings that magic cannot be stolen from or by children, muggleborns were slowly returning to work. “Does Ted Tonks still work at the ministry? He's muggleborn.”

“How do you know him?” asked Dobbs.

“He's my uncle, well estranged uncle, but I'm trying to get Mum to let bygones be bygones.”

“I'll reach out to him. Even if he doesn't work for us currently.”

With an eye on the time, Hermione made her way to the lifts. She hummed to herself as the ancient machinery groaned and creaked. On the fifth floor, it stopped to admit a red-headed man. She sucked in a breath, recognizing Percy Weasley. Silently she slipped her wand from the wrist holster, ready to defend herself. They rode in silence for two floors. “Hello, Hermione. I like the darker hair, it suits.”

“Hello, Percy,” she replied hesitantly.

“Don't worry I'm not going to out you.”

“To who?”

He looked surprised, “To anyone, as you're now a Lestrange, I assumed Hermione Granger being listed as Undesirable number 2 is for show. And I'm not speaking with my family at the moment. They were right about my promotion but wrong about the new regime.”

“Partially wrong, the less intelligent members would leap at the chance to resume the reign of terror. Happily, they are not calling the shots.”

“Something I thank any god listening for.”

“You can thank me for the coming changes.”

“Really?”

She smirked, “The old way was faster, but my way lasts longer.

Someone still wants immortality and power. Who wants to fight a war every three or four generations?”

“Who indeed?” he shook his head, smiling. “But my point is, your secret is safe with me. And you have my support if you need it. Even if I am at the bottom of the ladder in Magical Regulations.”

“Thank you, Percy.”

“If you can end this war, thank you.”

“I'm trying,” she laughed.

“More than anyone else is doing.”

They said their farewells on the ground floor. Hermione headed to the floo bank, and Percy was on his way to the cafeteria. Hermione flooed to the Leaky Cauldron to meet Luna. She ordered a butterbeer and perched on a stool at the end of the bar in a shadowed corner. Habits of constant vigilance ingrained in her caused her to sit facing into the room with her back to the wall. She sipped her drink watching the crowds move through the pub to the Alley's entrance. A young girl caught her attention. She followed her mother sucking her thumb. The lapse of attention to her left allowed her to be startled when a male voice spoke her name. “Hermione!” She jumped and whirled on the stool. For the second time that day, a freckled ginger greeted her. This time with tears and hugs. “You're alive, thank Godric.”

Unable to resist she hugged him back, “Hello, George.”

“Where have you been? What happened?” He rocked her back and forth, holding her tightly. “Wait until I tell Fred. We've been so worried.”

“Um, this is a long story and not one for a public place.”

“We've moved back into the flat above the store.” George offered.

“I'm waiting for someone,” she fidgeted once.

Luna stepped up, “I'm here. Hello, George.” She smiled at Hermione. “Should we go see Fred?”

“What about shopping, Luna?”

“I've seen your closet, we can just go through it. Talking to the twins is more important and Marcus would adore you in a mold sack.”

“I don't care about impressing him, I want to devastate groupies everywhere.” She noticed George watching them with an intrigued expression. “But, you're right, the twins are more important. Let's go.”

George collected his order while Hermione and Luna placed their own. Together they waded through the crowds to Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes. The bright signs and moving ads brought a smile to Hermione's face. The twins' brilliance shone from every inch of the store. Hermione told George so. He slung his arm over her shoulder,

“Such praise, thank you, Mione.” He led them up the back stairs.

“Give me a minute to collect Fred.”

Hermione nodded, “We'll set the table while we wait.”

“Fantastic,” George grinned and raced downstairs.

Luna moved to the kitchen drawers and removed forks and knives,
“How much are you going to tell them?”

“As angry as I am at them, I'm not going to out Ron and Harry. So, I suppose just about Dumbledore. Isn't that enough?”

“Mrs. Weasley seems to worship him, so I imagine she raised them to as well.”

“Ron always did seem utterly convinced of his infallibility.”

“What if they react badly?” whispered Luna.

“I can handle it. Neville had every reason not to accept my new life, the twins not so much.”

Fred apparated into the flat, “Hermione!” He hugged her as tightly as George had. His hug danced them around in a circle. “Luna!” he treated the blonde to the same manner of hug.

“It's wonderful to see you, too, Fred.”

“So what happened, Mione?”

“Let's sit and start eating while I explain.” She took her seat and began eating. The others followed suit. Once they tucked in, she explained the charms she broke and her game with Voldemort.
Fred whistled, “You lot never did do anything by halves do you?”

She chuckled, “It is a skill.”

“Now what?” asked George.

“I have the attention of a regime willing to listen to me, I am going to affect as much change as I can for as long as I can. This war cannot keep dragging on.”

Fred nodded, “We agree, so do Lupin and Tonks.”

“I know someone is supposed to be reaching out,” Hermione informed them.

“And Mum would be shooting them down,” George said. He looked thoughtful, “We could ask around, see who else is fed up and what it would take to get them to agree to a ceasefire and pax.”

“Would you?” Hermione asked excitedly.

Fred nodded, “The whole of the Order won't agree, too much bad blood. But we could feel out who wants compromise, and who won't.”

She looked down at her plate, “You realize we won't be able to save everyone.”

“Yes,” George whispered, “we know.”

“And there will be some I won't try to,” her voice wavered, but they deserved full disclosure from her. “Dumbledore added your mum to my charms,” her voice faltered for a second, “and she added Ron.” As the following silence lengthened she began to fidget. Finally, she looked up. Both twins stared at her in horror.

“She agreed?”

“She added Ron?”

Hermione nodded miserably, “Dumbledore's portrait confirmed it. Your dad knew, but never approved.”

“And did nothing, hardly better,” snapped Fred.

“But we understand your feelings, and accept your limitations,” George flashed his twin a look.

“Should probably count our blessings she didn't decide to do it to us,” mumbled Fred.

“I'm sorry to dump all this on you, but I promised myself no secrets and half-truths like Dumbledore. I didn't want to have this conversation later after you did all the work and now I refuse to help you.”

“That makes sense,” George said slowly.

Fred smiled at her, “Thank you for that, Mione.”

“Thank you for not hating me.”

“We could never. Granger or Lestrange, you're the same person you were before, our friend.”

George's smile fell briefly, “Not that we advocate the death of our mother, if she could not die, we would be grateful.”

“I can't make any promises. I can only make suggestions, and only to select, but powerful, few.”

“We know.”

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Fred mentioned the back-to-school crowds. “We're selling out faster than we can replenish our stock.”

“Not a bad problem to have,” remarked Hermione.

“No, it is not.” George laughed.

Fred resumed eating, “Excited for your last year at Hogwarts, Luna?”

She gave him her unique smile, “I took my exams early. Daddy needs my help with the Quibbler. And in these times of chaos, I want to stay close.”

“We can understand that,” assured George.

“Thank you.”

They finished eating, the twins waved off offers to assist with cleanup. They exchanged hugs all around with promises to meet soon. The girls flooed back to the Rookery as the twins returned downstairs.

Luna led Hermione upstairs, “I doubt anything I have would be appropriate in my closet.”

“Sure, but we couldn't floo from the flat back to the Hall.”

“I also wanted to get my mother's necklace. I would like to wear it.”

“Certainly, go grab it.” She looked out the window towards the Burrow. She noticed the thin white plume of smoke rising from its location. She continued to watch it climb as Luna rejoined her. “The Weasleys back in the Burrow,” Hermione sighed.

“Will anyone mind?”

“Why would they? Other than Harry, Voldemort is indifferent.”

“Will you tell him?” Luna asked.

“Eventually, when it becomes relevant. Right now it isn't.”

“Then let's go play dress up in your closet.”

“Was this all a ruse to borrow a dress, Luna?”
Luna gave an airy laugh, “You caught me.”

Around bedtime, Hermione's floo flared, “Luna, is something wrong?”

“No, but someone wants to see you.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. Luna came through the floo connection carrying a fluffy orange cat, that meowed loudly when he saw Hermione. “Crookshanks!” He leapt to her waiting arms. “Oh, Luna, where?”

“He appeared at the door. I think he sensed you earlier and came looking.”

Hermione hugged the creature to her, “Thank you, Luna. Sweet Crooksie, I missed you so much.”

“I'll see myself home,” Luna said.

Hermione spun on her heel and carried Crookshanks over to Sir Hiss's cushion. “Sir Hiss, Crookshanks returned.”

The snake uncoiled to regard the cat. Hermione crouched down,

“Hello again, cat,” hissed the snake. “Welcome back.” The animals touched noses. “You can share my bed.” Crookshanks dropped onto the pillow and settled in with Sir Hiss. Hermione watched them settle together before heading to bed herself. She used her coin to tell Marcus of his return. She introduced her familiar to the rest of the family over breakfast. She also penned a note informing Voldemort that the twins were off-limits and willing to be emissaries for her, and by extension, him.

-oOoOo-

When the Weasleys returned to the Burrow, Ron and Harry kept their promise and joined them. Delighted to be in her own space, Molly cleaned the house from top to bottom and bottom to top. To aid Ginny's seduction mission she cleared out Percy's room for Harry. Ron grumbled until Harry reminded him they were still researching at Grimmauld Place several times a week, something Molly refused to allow Ginny to help with.

A clandestine trip to a shop just inside Knockturn Alley landed Ginny some naughty underwear and a container of powder called Lust Dust. Sprinkled on food it was supposed to increase the natural desires. Ginny briefly debated the need for such an item on top of the love potion but decided she needed every advantage she could get.

She had two weeks to ensure Harry's addiction to her.
After breakfast Molly enlisted Ron's help with the ghoul in the attic, sending Ginny and Harry out to check Arthur's shed for pests like doxies and such. She always imagined Harry as a gentle, hesitant lover. Reality proved much different. He left her sore for hours after pounding into her against hard surfaces. It never crossed her mind that the love potions and Lust Dust overrode his natural tendencies. Or that the combination might have been too much.

At supper she gingerly sat next to Harry, trying to steal his attention from Ron, when the floo roared to life in the living room. The twins called out greetings, followed by Bill. “We found this one wandering the Alley in search of food and thought we would crash dinner here,” George announced.

Molly beamed, “You all know you are always welcome back home for anything.” She swiftly set three more places. “Sit, sit.”

“Looking a little pale there, mate. You need more sun.” Bill told Harry.

He nodded, his head felt fuzzy again, he wondered if it was linked to Voldemort somehow, “You're probably right.”

The conversation turned to the looming start of the school year. “I know you all insist it is safe, but I worry about when to shop for supplies. Would a bigger group be safer?”

“We could meet you, Mum,” Fred offered, “but it's just Gin now.”

“Maybe we should invite the Lovegoods?” Molly mused. Ginny rolled her eyes. Her mum only remembered their neighbors when she wanted something. Otherwise, she ignored Xenophilius and his eccentric offspring.

George shook her head, “We saw Luna last week, she took her NEWTs early. She's going to help Xeno with the Quibbler.”

“What?” Ginny shouted, “I thought we had to go to Hogwarts now.”

“You can't be homeschooled anymore, but anyone can take the tests,” Fred explained.

“We've considered it ourselves.”

“Does this mean she'll be considered a dropout?” asked Ron.
Bill shook his head, “No, she finished her formal education by taking the exams.”

“Could I do that?” Ginny asked.

“You have to be ready when you schedule the test,” Bill started uncertainly. “No taking a few months to prepare.”
Fred nodded, “Luna said the cutoff is this week. She barely made it in.”

Ginny looked pleadingly at her mother. Her eyes flicked to Harry then back. “We'll discuss it later.”
Later came the next morning after Arthur left for work and the two boys headed over to Grimmauld Place. Ginny scrambled downstairs to find Molly. “I can't go back to Hogwarts. It isn't safe, that's what you keep saying.”

“And if you fail your exams the what?”

“Pff, please. I don't need NEWTs to be Mrs. Harry Potter with all the lovely Potter money. I'd quite any job I had as soon as I got pregnant anyway.”

“That is true,” Molly remarked slowly. “But it would like we're running away.”

“Who cares? I cannot afford for Harry to start paying attention to some other girl while I'm trapped in that school.”

“What would people say though? After the war.”

“About the savior's devout wife? Not a damn thing. And by then, who cares. The ring is on MY finger and I'm entitled to the vault key and full access. A baby every few years should keep it that way.” She grinned, “Everyone gets what they want. Harry gets a family, I get to marry the Chosen One and a rich wizard. It's win/win. But I have to get him to the alter first. I can't do that from Hogwarts.”

“I'll have your father bring the forms home.”

-oOoOo-

Hermione's birthday began with breakfast in bed served by extremely eager elves. Rabastan took her and Luna to lunch and museums in Milan. They returned just in time to dress for the formal dinner her parents were holding in her honor. Luna went home, Xenophilius accepted the invitation and she wanted to arrive with him. Having talked to Peregrine and Cassius, Yaxley was excited to discuss nargles and wrakenspurts with the Lovegoods.

The evenings succeed beyond anyone's hopes. Yaxley and a few others would be investing in the Quibbler's expeditions. The Montagues adored Luna. No one hexed anyone. And Marcus gave her a beautiful gift: a platinum cast glass slipper charm. Jacques and Gus Gus sat inside, six round sapphires made the heart shaped decoration on the slipper. “A memento of the night you shared yourself with me.” He gave her an uncertain smile.

“I love it. Thank you.” She clasped the necklace around her neck.

Chapter Text

Chapter 22 Dancing

Hermione wrote to Viktor. She gave him a brief summary of what had happened and the changes to her life since the last time they had spoken or written. She offered to let Marcus read the letters, but he declined, “I trust you. You say he's just a friend, then I have nothing to worry about.” He responded with a promise to catch up during the event. She offered to let Marcus read the letters, but he declined, “I trust you. You say he's just a friend, then I have nothing to worry about.”

As the host of the previous World Cup, the British Ministry hosted the opening events. Pucey Hotels would be hosting everything, including complimentary rooms for invited players. Adrian translated for Hermione, “That means the players that have been ordered to attend. Happily, you have a connection and therefore will have the best rooms. Want a hot tub, pet?” Marcus slapped him upside the back of his head. While Hermione shook her head in bemusement.

Marcus ensured Hermione knew she had an open invitation to stay with him, and regardless of her decision, he had zero expectations for the weekend. His assurances emboldened her to pack sexier nightwear and select risque knickers. If she decided she wanted to take that step, she would have something to help express her interest. She also packed her regular sleepwear. If she decided against it, Marcus never needed to know she contemplated it.

Graham invited Marcus to get dressed in his hotel room, allowing Hermione and Luna to use Marcus's. Adrian arranged for one of the hotel's hairdressers to make a house call to the suite. After taking a look at the dresses she created stunning hairstyles to compliment them. Both had selected recreations of vintage 30s Chanel gowns. Luna chose a dark charcoal colored trumpet shaped silk dress with a lace overlay. The bottom of the bell flared out with three layers of ruffles. To compliment her darker coloring Hermione wore a gold sequined modified A-line with a small train. The neckline and back had straps connecting to the collar.

“Um, Mione, are you going to be wearing a bra?” Luna asked.

“Nope, Mum had one sewn into the dress.”
“You should let that slip to Marcus,” Luna teased.

“I think I would rather surprise him with the idea at the end of the night. He hates these things enough as it it.”

“Tell Adrian and watch his brain melt?” she counter suggested.

“Now that is tempting.”

Despite the offer to borrow something, Luna wore her mother's pearls. Though she showed Hermione that she kept her emergency portkey with her in some fashion, this time as an anklet. Hermione accented the gold color with chocolate diamonds in her ears and on her wrist. She checked her appearance in the mirror, “I think we both clean up rather well.”

“The boys won't know what hit them,” Luna agreed.

A knock at the door at exactly seven heralded the arrival of their escorts. Just to be certain, Hermione peeked through the peephole. She opened the door for Graham and Marcus. “Good evening, gentlemen. Can I help you?”

Graham laughed, “I'm looking for a stunning blonde, have you seen one?”

“Through there,” she pointed into the room. Marcus leaned against the door frame.”And you, good sir?”

“I'm supposed to escort this gorgeous creature downstairs, but she looks too sexy. I've decided to convince her to skip everything and stay up here.”

“To what end?”

“To keep her all to myself,” he leered.

“Don't be absurd, this is your work thing, not mine.”

“Damn, I was afraid you would remember that. I suppose we have to go then,” he sighed.

“Well, you do.” She reached up and straightened his tie, “But since you asked so nicely, I'll go with you and keep you safe from all the groupies massing in the lobby.”

He kissed her, “My hero.” He looked over her into the room, “Oi, Montague, let's get a move on. Pucey's waiting.”

“So is the press,” he shot back. Hermione groaned.

“Relax, you aren't Hermione Granger anymore. Skeeter should think twice about attacking Hermione Lestrange.” Luna assured her.

“I think you overestimate her intelligence.”

“While everyone has access to the lobby, only approved reporters and photographers will be inside. And they all know if they upset you, they upset me. They upset me and they may not be invited back into the events.” Marcus comforted her.

“Or, he'll break their heads. Either, or, ends badly for them.” She laughed at Graham's joke.

In the lift, a thought occurred to her, “In the muggle world athletes are expected to pose for photographs before things like this.”

Marcus squeezed her hand, “Only for a few.” Her face paled, “Hermione, what's wrong? I can't help if you don't tell me.”

“The last time I dated a famous quidditch player complete strangers sent me hate mail, the dangerous kind.”

Luna stepped closer, “You are a different person than last time, stronger. If anyone is stupid enough to send hate mail you will deal with it. And this time you aren't a muggleborn without family,” she whispered the last part.

“You're right.”

Adrian and his date met them just off from the lobby. The statuesque blonde sized up Hermione and Luna, dismissing them as harmless with a disdainful sniff. She turned to Adrian, whining, “Can we go in now? I want to see the reactions to my dress.” The dress in question began just above her butt and ended just below her crotch.

“Sure, babe. Manners first, this is Marcus and Hermione, and Graham and Luna. Everyone this is Emerald.”

“Hello,” Hermione greeted politely.

“Whatever. Baby-Boo, the photographers are waiting,” she whined again.

'Baby-Boo?' mouthed Marcus to Graham in amusement. That phrase would be haunting Adrian later. They followed the couple into the area set aside for the press outside the large ballroom. Emerald posed and preened as flashbulbs went off. The drama queen reveled in the attention so long a frowning Adrian had to pull her away.

Marcus led Hermione forward. Numerous reporters called out asking her name. Photographers yelled for Marcus to give them a smile. His only response was to slide his arm around her waist. At some unseen signal, he took her hand, “We can escape now.” Graham and Luna took their place.

“This is only at fundraisers or publicity events,” he assured her. “And now we are free to mingle until dinner. Then we endure the endless speeches. After we are rewarded with dancing and desserts. Coach Campos said we could leave around 1 am.” He steered her towards their assigned seats.

“Herminny,” she turned, recognizing the voice.

“Viktor!” she waited for him to finish making his way over. “I am so happy to see you.” She gave him a hug. “Do you know Marcus?”

“Mostly by reputation. We met briefly during Tournament,” he grinned and offered his hand. “And your glowing letters.”

“She told you about me?” he sounded surprised as he shook Viktor's hand.

“Ten pages dedicated to you,” Viktor laughed.

“He's exaggerating,” Hermione protested.

“Very little,” he grinned at her. “I talked pretty table attendant to place us at same table.”

“Of course you did,” she laughed.

“Plenty of time for chat chit,” Viktor told her.

“Chit chat.”

“Yes, that.” He kissed Hermione's cheek. “See you at the table.” He waved to Marcus as he walked away.

She smiled up at her boyfriend, “Okay, what now?”

“We mingle. You don't have to say much, Merlin knows I never do.” He offered her his arm. “This way, fair lady.” He escorted her around the room, making instructions here and there to people he knew. Many were excited to meet the newly returned Lestrange Heir. She laughed at bad jokes, smiled through boring stories, and managed to fake her way through small talk. She experienced palatable relief when the signal sounded for them to return to the tables.

“So, mila, enjoy your first round of mingling?” Viktor teased.

“First, sod off. Second, not your mila anymore, remember?”

“You are correct, my apologies.”

“Did you come solo, Viktor?” Hermione asked.

“I brought Britta, she keeps the vultures and press away.”

“Britta is Viktor's sister,” Hermione informed Marcus and Adrian.

Hermione exchanged stories with Viktor, remembering to include the others. She laughed and joked with her old friend, happy to have someone besides Luna without reservations about the changes in her life only wanting her safety and happiness. Neville remained neutral and the twins were apprehensive about Death Eaters. Viktor expressed his joy that she was free from her redheaded tyrants.

Through the dinner speeches, Hermione gave every impression of paying perfect attention. In reality, she drew random patterns across Marcus's thigh, smirking every time he reacted. “Unfair, little dove.”

“So bored. Why do all officials love to hear themselves talk?”

“Captive audience, I suppose, they know we can't escape.”

“So annoying,” she whined.

“Almost finished, this should be the last repetition of international goodwill and healthy competition.”

“Promises, promises,” she muttered.

After an eternity of officials droning on about the same topics, the Head of the International Quidditch Foundation stepped forward, “Our last announcement for the evening is the location of the next World Cup. This go-round, Spain will have the honor of hosting.” He gestured towards the Spanish delegation. One of whom waved to the polite applause. “And now in the spirit of friendship, let us celebrate.” He exited the stage as musicians took their places.

Marcus captured her hand on his thigh, “May I have the first dance?”

“You may.” She stood and joined him on the dance floor. “Any unspoken etiquette I need to know?”

“WAGs can be sharp tongued, ignore them, or give as good as you get. And please don't hex them bald.”

“I can play nice.” She gave him an innocent smile.

“We also get dance as many times as we want and you can refuse anyone you want.”

“I like the sound of that,” she moved closer.

“We just have to stay until one.”

“You know Ades and Graham will want a dance.”

“Maybe not Graham,” he teased.

“He is rather smitten with Luna isn't he?” she smiled. “But Ades will ask just to tweak your nose.”

“Undoubtedly.”

She twinkled up at him, “And Viktor will want one.”

“He's your friend, I expect he would.” He smiled down at her. They spent the next two songs, moving with the music, staring into one another's eyes smiling.

Adrian delighted in cutting in, “You had two songs, my turn.” He spun Hermione away, leaving Marcus standing in the middle of the floor before he headed towards the bar.

Viktor waited until towards the end of the evening to claim Hermione for a dance. “You look happy. Britta is correct, you glow,” Viktor teased. “He gives this glow?”

“He does.”

“There is the confident witch that Dumbledore kept hidden. I haff missed her.”

“I missed her, too,” she whispered.

“Your new family treats you well? Things go well?”

“Yes, Viktor, everything is fine, thank you.”
“You are special witch. You deserve only best.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, I do,” she trailed off.

“But you can take care of yourself,” he laughed.

“You know it.” At the end of the song, he escorted her back to the table.

She slipped into the seat next to Marcus, who entertained Britta at Adrian's expense. “Hermione,” he whined, “your new boyfriend keeps telling your old boyfriend's sister embarrassing stories about me.”

“Did you consider he's doing it because you keep referring to Viktor as a boyfriend?”

“He wouldn't!”

“Embarrass you because you are annoying him? Yes, he would, Baby-Boo,” she laughed at Adrian's horrified face.

“That's just cruel,” he huffed.

Hermione giggled, “No, cruel is pointing out Emerald is leaving with an Italian player. Now you're the only one going home alone.” She leaned forward and whispered so only he could hear her, “And I'm not wearing underwear.”

Adrian pouted, “You are a horrible woman.”

“So vicious,” Marcus nuzzled her neck. “We can leave whenever you want.”

“Brilliant,” she grinned at him. She jumped to her feet and embraced both Krums, “It was wonderful to see you both. Keep in touch. Luna and Graham already left, so good night, Baby-Boo.” She looked at Marcus, “I'm ready.”

“Thank fuck, I hate these things. I was ready before we got here.” He stood, “Night, Ades,” he clapped his mate on the shoulder. “See you around, Krum.”

“Perhaps on the pitch,” suggested Viktor as they shook hands.

Marcus placed his hand on the small of her back as they crossed the ballroom. He directed her out a side door that opened up next to the lifts. In the lift, Marcus lazily drew patterns on the bare skin of her back, occasionally drifting up the scratch the back of her neck and hairline.

She unlocked the room, the lights flared to life as she stepped inside, indicating her intention to stay the night. “Would you like to change in the bathroom? Cressida does that,” Marcus offered.

“Thanks,” she took the things she needed with her. She replaced her dress and knickers with a long satin peacock blue negligee, at the knees navy chiffon fell in pleats to the floor. Taking a deep breath, she gave herself a pep talk. “You faced down deranged adults, a werewolf, and dementors. You can walk out there. He's seen you mostly naked, and liked what he saw.”

Before she could overthink anything, she moved back into the bedroom portion of the hotel room. Marcus had pulled back the blankets and reclined against the headboard in a pair of joggers. “I hope you don't mind if I sleep topless,” his words slowed until he trailed off into silence.

“You should be comfortable,” she responded.

“Will you be? Comfortable, that is,” he asked.

“Surprisingly, yes.” She ran her hands down her stomach. “Very soft. Want to feel?”

He swallowed hard, “Yes, please.” She moved to stand next to the bed. He ran his hands over the soft material, the rough calluses snagged the fabric. “You look stunning, little dove.”

“Thanks, you look rather yummy yourself.”

“Do I?” he smirked.

“You do.” Hermione crawled onto the bed next to him. “Last time you tasted me, but I never got to taste you.” She waggled her eyebrows.

But if you're tasting me, I can't taste you.”

Hermione giggled, “We sound absurd.”

“Yeah, we do,” he chuckled.

“But we can, uh, mutually pleasure one another if you're interested.”

He sat up straighter, “Seriously?”

“Um, yeah unless you don't want to.” She felt her bravery waiver.”

“Oh, I want to, I really want to. Most girls don't, so, I'm a little surprised is all. In a good way.”

“The downside to being friends with mostly guys is they forget you don't have a penis or think as they do. When Dean was describing it I thought it sounded hot.” She looked down, refusing to make eye contact.

“Hermione, look at me.” He waited for her to raise her face to his, “I am willing to try most things. I draw the line at butt stuff.”

“Giving or receiving.”

“Receiving. I know some blokes like it, but I am not one of those blokes. If you wanted to try receiving, we can discuss it.”

“Noted. And now that the mood is dead...”

“Please, I'm a 22-year-old male. The wind shifts and I can be in the mood.” He kissed her deeply, “Oh, look wind change.” He cupped her face in his hands kissing her fiercely.

Shutting off her brain, Hermione sank into the kiss. Just experience it, she told herself. She responded to his caresses with gentle touches of her own, pausing to pull her gown off. His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her naked body. His touch became firmer and more urgent, palming her breasts. She moaned when his mouth replaced his hands. She reached for his joggers trying to push them down. He released her nipple with a wet pop. He tore his clothing off, laying back on the bed naked. Sensing any conversation would derail things for the rest of the night, he silently directed her to face away from him, and straddle his waist. He pulled her back until her slit hovered above his face.

Flattening his tongue, Marcus licked her. She whimpered before turning her attention to his member before her. Both eagerly licked and sucked at the other, moaning as lust pooled and tightened below their stomachs. Hermione's limbs trembled at the edge when Marcus suddenly pulled back. She raised up unable to stop the whining noise that escaped her. “Sorry, little dove, but this isn't how I want to finish, or how soon.”

She turned to face him, “How do you want to finish?” she knew the answer, she just wanted to hear him say it.

“Inside you,” he caressed her side from breast to thigh.

Warmth spread through her hearing those words, “That's what I want, too.” Her core pulsed with desire. She positioned herself straddling him at a better angle, rubbing herself along his shaft.

“Baby, please.” Marcus hissed as she moved his tip to her opening. Hesitantly she slid down the shaft, hissing at the feeling of stretching intrusion. She paused, then made a decision. Knowing the loss of her virginity would hurt, she chose to push down quickly, no use prolonging the pain.

She regretted it the second after she did it. A strong sting shot up her spine. She tried to keep it from showing on her face, but a look down at Marcus told her she failed. “Hermione, what's wrong? Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, just hurt a bit more than I expected.” She wiggled experimentally, “Getting a bit better.” Ignoring the residual twinges of pain, Hermione raised up and slid back down, establishing a rhythm. He held onto her hips, urging her to speed up. The pleasant pressure began building again, twisting between her legs. The tighter the feeling became the faster Hermione moved. The tension snapped suddenly, sending her careening over the edge, “MARCUS, holy fuck!”

She slide down to collapse atop him, he swiftly rolled her under him and entered in one movement. She gasped, as every movement felt heightened. He pumped his hips chasing his own release and hers. She clawed at his shoulders as she writhed under him, her hips rising to meet his. She sank her fingernails into his back as she came for the second time. He followed her into ecstasy seconds later.

He rolled to his back, pulling her into his side. She rested her head on his chest. He rubbed up and down her arm, while she traced the pattern of his muscles. She fell asleep listening to his heartbeat.

Sunlight streamed into the room around the edges of the curtains. Hermione opened to eyes to see Marcus watching her sleep. “Good morning,” she smiled shyly at him.

“Morning,” he pushed her hair back from her face. She grimaced at how sore unused muscles felt in the morning. “Little more than you're used to, huh?” he waggled his eyebrows comically.

“Never had anything to get used to,” she shrugged sitting up.

He stared at her stunned by the implications, “Why didn't you say anything? Your first time should have been, I don't know.”

“It was everything I wanted it to be.” She told him firmly.

“Any protesting otherwise would be seen as questioning you, wouldn't it?”

“Yes. I wanted to be here, with you, like this. Because I love you. And that really is the only prerequisite I need.”

A slow goofy grin spread across his face, “You love me?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Are you questioning me?” she narrowed her eyes and placed her hands on her hips.

“Never,” he pulled her back down the bed hovering over her. “I love you, too.” This round he took his time, slowly moving inside her while looking into her eyes adoringly.

The blaring of her alarm interrupted the afterglow. Hermione struggled from his arms, “Have to get moving. I'm expected at Malfoy Manor for brunch. And I need to shower first.”

“You don't want to show up reeking of sex?” he teased.

“I'm okay with it if you are? A meal with my father, uncles, and honorary grandfather. I'm sure one of them will think it is funny.”

“You're right, off you pop to the shower. Let's go.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 23 Mother Daughter Bonding.

The morning post arrived as Hermione sat down at the table. Witch Weekly declared Hermione and Marcus a handsome couple, and posted a two page spread of photos: Marcus escorting her through the lobby, posing for the photographers, both of them warmly greeting Viktor, then waltzing, and Hermione's favorite, the two gazing at one another, love radiating on their faces. The Quibbler mentioned they attended and mentioned a lack of nargles affecting the couple. Hermione assumed that was a good sign. The Daily Prophet, or rather Rita Skeeter, took a different stance.

Below the fold, Skeeter's headline declared the Lestrange Heiress to be a man hungry jersey chaser.

Dear Readers, Last night Miss Lestrange entered the fete on the arm of Falcon star chaser, Marcus Flint. Then she flirted her way through dinner with Vulture's seeker, Viktor Krum. She spent the evening dancing with both men, using her wiles to play one against the other. One wonders what Miss Lestrange plans to gain by playing these fine young men against one another? And when will they see through her games? Be assured, I intend to find out.

“What is she thinking, attacking a member of the Sacred 28?” mused Lucius.

“I've heard rumor Ms. Skeeter fancies herself in love with Marcus, despite his refusal to even speak with her. This isn't the first time she's attacked a woman linked to him.” Narcissa frowned.

“I'm surprised the editor let it run,” remarked Rabastan.

Hermione calmly shredded the article then incinerated the scraps. “You must excuse me, I have an errand to run.”

Bellatrix eyed her, “Of what kind?”

“I have a foul, loathsome cockroach to grind beneath my heel.” She stood, pulling her crystal wand from her bag.

“Oh shite, you mean Skeeter,” Draco paled.

“I do. She seems to have forgotten our earlier lesson about lying.”

With a turn that would have Snape green with envy, she whirled and exited the room. Bellatrix caught up with her at the floo. “Stop.” Hermione paused. “Glamour that, you don't want people knowing you have two wands. And tuck it in your hands, plausible deniability if no one sees you had a wand.” Hermione stared, her mouth slightly open from surprise. “I do know how to avoid suspicion. I was caught red-handed with the Longbottoms, no point denying it.” She gestured for Hermione to go through first.

The reception desk of the Prophet faced the door, two sets of frosted glass double doors flanked it. A few leafy plants decorated the area. The young woman at the desk matched the pale gray walls. At the sight of the two curly haired witches approaching what little color was left in her cheeks drained. “Miss Skeeter isn't in her office. I haven't seen her leave, either. Mr. Cuthbert is in a meeting.”

“Why...?” started Bellatrix.

“You look angry,” the girl flinched when Hermione's frown deepened. “Most angry people are looking for Rita. She snuck in a lot of inferences and insults in her last few articles.”

“Which way to Skeeter's office?” Hermione inquired politely.

“To the right, at the end of the hall go right, her office is in the back corner,” the girl answered nervously, looking unsure.

“Thank you.” Hermione went through the doors to the right of the desk. To the left, she heard yelling. “Bad day to be the editor.”

“Perhaps he should keep his reporter on a shorter leash.”

“Or in a glass jar,” muttered Hermione. Before opening Skeeter's door she flicked her wand. A faint blue glow returned to her. “Gotcha,” she whispered.

“The receptionist said she wasn't in,” Bellatrix looked confused.

“Sh, not looking for a human.” Hermione slowly turned the doorknob and slid the door open. “Glacius.” She pulled the door shut. “5,4,3,2, and 1.” She reopened the door. “Accio Skeeter bug.” A tiny beetle flew into her hand.

“What is that?” Bellatrix demanded.

“Not here. Do you have an out-of-the-way house or something?”

“Cottage Black near Devon, it's barely anything,” Bellatrix shrugged.

“Does it have a roof and four standing walls?”

“The elves kept it in good repair.”

“That's all we need.”

Hermione transfigured a jar and dumped the bug in. She poked one hole in the lid and dropped it in her bag. “Out the front then side-along us to the cottage.” As an afterthought, she scribbled a note. 'Honesty is the best policy. We'll talk later.'

Bellatrix snorted, “She couldn't be honest if her life depended on it.”

“Once, I'm finished with her it won't matter.” She led Bellatrix out of the building.

Cottage Black sat near a cliff overlooking the English Channel. The hatch roofed stone building sat inside a stone wall with a wooden gate. Bellatrix disabled the security wards. The inside of the building matched the quaintness of the outside. “This is lovely,” Hermione remarked. She waved her wand placing Helga Hufflepuff's private security wards. No living thing, plant, or animal would be leaving the area.

Hermione had expected Ravenclaw or Slytherin to be the most paranoid about security, but it had been the gentle badger wanting to contain her experiments. Only air could pass through the barrier once erected. She opened the jar. The bespectacled beetle launched itself from her cage and sped for the window, only to crash into the wards. Spinning it flew at the door ending with the same results. “Come now, Rita, how dumb do you think we are? Change back, the sooner you start begging for your life the sooner this will all be over.”

“Rita? Is that bug Skeeter?” demanded Bellatrix.

“It is,” Hermione continued to watch the beetle buzz about looking to escape. “There's no way out, Rita. Just give up.”

“How did you know?”

“During 4th year Skeeter kept exposing private conversations and information. Every time those conversations took place a bug was obtrusively nearby. We suspected she was spying, and we were right. Caught her in bug form and kept her in a jar for months. Guess she didn't learn her lesson.” The bug slowed down before landing on the end table. “I have ways of forcing you to change forms. I promise those methods will hurt you.” Nothing happened. “Mummy Dearest, would you zap Miss Skeeter with something painful?”

“Afraid to get your hands dirty?” sneered Bellatrix.

“Certainly not, I thought you might want to join in the fun.”
She pointed her wand at Skeeter, “Bombarda.” The force of the spell flung the beetle up into the air with another flick Hermione conjured a fly swatter and smacked Rita into the wall. “Come on, Rita, or don't, maybe Mummy wants to play.”

“No, darling, by all means, you have fun. This has been enlightening.” Bellatrix waved her hand dismissively.

“I guess it's just you and me, cockroach.” She sent Skeeter a feral grin, “I wonder what would happen if I enlarged you and pulled off your antennae and wings? I mean, besides no more flying.” She cocked her head to the side, “Should we try, Mummy Dearest?”

Rita landed on the floor in the far corner. She transformed, slumping against the wall. “You win, you win,” she panted. “You sound like Granger, you almost look like Granger, but Lestrange would never be helping a mudblood, let alone allow one to call her mummy.”

Hermione sent a stinging hex at her, “Don't be vulgar, Rita. It's unbecoming of a lady. On second thought, go ahead, you really aren't a lady. And I am not Hermione Granger, muggleborn. I am Hermione Lestrange, pureblood.” Skeeter's mouth opened and closed several times. “Stop that you look like a codfish. Now what to do with you?” she tapped her want against her lips. “You've been warned about publishing your opinions and lies. You didn't listen. This problem needs to be dealt with swiftly and permanently.” Skeeter flinched.

“No, please, don't kill me. I can keep my mouth shut, no more reporting on you, I swear.”

“I'm not going to kill you.” Bellatrix frowned and Skeeter sagged with relief. “That's too simple, too quick. Your suffering ends if I kill you.”

Bellatrix viewed Hermione with renewed interest. Skeeter paled further. “Her death doesn't have to be quick. She can suffer.”

“Still, only a short time. We're too busy to keep coming back to tend to her. My punishment will last for the rest of her life, with no effort on our parts.” She fingered her wand, “Tell me, Rita, have you ever heard of the Seer Cassandra? The Greek god Apollo fell in love with her, so he gave her the gift of true prophecy. When she spurned his advances he cursed her so no one would believe her. The Greek army sacked her beloved Troy. She Saw it, but remained powerless to stop it.” She flashed a mean little grin, “We feel sorry for Cassandra because she was innocent. No one will feel sorry for you.”

“How is having the Sight and no one believing me a punishment?” asked Rita.

“That's not what's going to happen. No one will ever believe you again. So, maybe I should have used the Boy-Who-Cried-Wolf as a comparison.”

Hermione pulled the Founders Journal from her bag. She found the section on curses. Silently she cast the spell with glowing orange light. She made a show of lowering the wards. “Off you pop, Rita.
We're finished here.”

Realizing she could escape, Skeeter lashed out, “I'm going to destroy you! My editor will bury you in litigation. I'm going to tell everyone who you are.”

“No, you aren't,” snapped Bellatrix. The anger faded and she looked at Hermione in awe, “I know what you did and it STILL affected me.”

“Subtle, I know,” admitted Hermione. “It lacked any violence.”

“But bloody brilliant.” Bellatrix beamed at her with pride. “And the perfect punishment. I never would have considered letting anyone get without bleeding.”

“I did rough her up a bit.”

“Why did you skip any of the darker spells?” She gestured for the two to walk away from the sputtering Skeeter.

“Several reasons: one, we were seen at the Prophet looking for her. Even if they don't believe her, dark energy would trigger an investigation. Two, magic is about intent. Traditional light spells can cause as much damage as other more sinister spells. One of the things Dumbledore and I could never agree on. And, three, I enjoy proving him wrong.”

“Hermione,” Bellatrix stopped walking, “I have been a spiteful bitch since you arrived. But you've proved me wrong at every turn. I won't apologize, but I would like to start fresh.”

“I'd like that, too. I should probably stop calling you Mummy Dearest. It isn't the nicest of titles or movies.”

“Was this woman a cruel bitch?”

“She could be,” Hermione admitted.

“And somewhat of a badass?”

“In her field.”

“I'll keep it. Kind of like the sound of it.”

“As you wish, Mummy Dearest.”

When Marcus asked if he needed to do anything about Skeeter she laughed and assured him it was all fine.

-oOoOo-

October gave way to November as Hermione spent most of her days reading through the Founders Journal. She met less and less with her tutors unless she encountered a topic that might interest them. Yaxley reacted like a child given a new toy when she asked him to help her study Merlin's hood.

The hood seemed to behave in the exact opposite manner as Harry's invisibility cloak. It revealed hidden things, living objects, even through walls, disillusions, and charms meant to hide things. It would have been a spy's best friend. Like the cloak, it could not be summoned, though, unlike the cloak, it acted as a physical shield. She allowed Yaxley to write up the entry for the Journal since she had no intention of allowing him to report anything to the Ministry.

Hermione kept Circe's wand in her beaded bag, so she always had both wands with her. She used it often when attempting magic from the Journal. She wondered if the close affinity she felt resembled Harry's feelings about his holly wand. Ragnar advised her the Athens Gringotts were arranging travel visas to visit her. She hoped they would be able to fill in her background knowledge of crystal wand lore.

Nora convinced Hermione to attend a few of the practices as the regular season wound down. The players were only really keeping in shape in case they were selected by the national team. “Oakley is hopeful Marcus or Adrian will get a spot. He says they've come a long way.”

“He doesn't think he'll claim a spot?” Hermione asked as they watched practice.

“No, he doesn't really want to either, all the training and travel. Maybe if the kids were older and we could go with him.”

“I can see how that affects things. Do you travel with him much?”

“I used to, but kids and work, you know.”

“I admire you putting your family before the fame and excitement of being with a quidditch player.” Hermione glanced at a few of the tarted-up girlfriends and younger wives.

“You won't be indulging?” She glanced at Hermione.

“Only as much as needed to support Marcus. And if they are too annoying, I will sit with friends. The only person who matters is Marcus. He deserves the attention, not me.”

“You keep wearing those daring dresses like you did, and you might find the focus on you more than you like.” Nora laughed when Hermione made a face. “And some of the other wives can be nice, one on one. They only revert to girlfriend behavior when surrounded by the newer models.”

“That's horrible.”

One of the wives wandered over. She wore a tight boxy skirt and an open V-neck sweater. Her beige heels were 13 cm tall. “Nora, what are you doing over here?”

“Hello, Samantha, this is Hermione, Marcus's girlfriend.”

“And this answers my question how?”

“I met her after the Cannons match. I want her to feel welcome.” Nora smiled at Hermione.

“She's just a girlfriend, and barely one at that. She's been to one match and no practices,” Samantha snapped back.

“My life doesn't revolve around Marcus, nor his mine. He knows I have other demands on my time and will be here when I can.” Hermione smiled up winningly. “And that if I don't like any of you I can enjoy the game with friends in my own private box far away from you.” Nora struggled to stifle her laughter as Samantha huffed back to the other wives. “Oh dear, I think I hurt her little feelings.” Hermione deadpanned.

“If you do get your box can the kids and I sit with you?”

“Of course.”

“Thank Merlin. We're the only ones with little kids right now, and the others can be difficult when I bring them. We're just in a different phase of life.”

“That doesn't excuse rudeness. I'm sure they did or will bring their children to watch. Just because they are older or don't exist is no reason to make things harder for you.”

“And it would do some of them good to do anything but sit around or shop all day.” Hermione giggled at Nora's tone. “Be prepared for that, the players may push to see if you're after Flint's money, all the while ignoring their own gold digger.”

Hermione giggled, “Perhaps I should start buying Marcus expensive gifts.” Nora laughed.

“Ah, that's what every man likes to see his beautiful bride lit up with laughter!” Oakley swept Nora out of her seat and into his arms. Marcus walked up after him.

“What's so funny?”

“My suggestion is I could avoid being labeled a gold digger if I showered you with expensive things.”

“The spiteful would think you bought them with my money.”

“I hate people.” He laughed and pulled her to him. He opened his mouth to respond when a hazy white cloud zipped in.

“Mione, it worked! You have to come. St. Mungo's, hurry, please.”

“Was that?” asked Marcus.

“Neville? Yes, it might be his parents. I should go.” She began looking around for her bag.

“Let me know how it goes.” Marcus kissed her.

“I will, I'm sorry, thank you.”

“Take a deep breath, and floo maybe. On second thought, let me take you.” Before she could protest, he spun on the spot depositing them inside the lobby, away from the front door and gossipy visitors.

A helpful employee directed them to the room containing an ecstatic Neville and a healer. “This is a private consultation, miss.”

Neville waved him off, “Hermione is a family friend. And this is the witch who suggested this treatment in the first place. I want her and she deserves to be here. Start from the beginning.” Neville patted the seat next to him.

Marcus squeezed her shoulder, “I'll go.”

“No,” Neville interrupted, “Flint, you stay, too. Mione might need help with my emotions.” Everyone but the healer laughed, and Marcus say in the wing chair as Hermione joined Neville on the smaller couch. Neville nodded to the healer.

“As I was saying, over the last two months both patients have become more interactive with their environment. Last week they began speaking. This morning both asked for their son. Once we established they knew he was grown and not a baby, we sent for you. Do you have any questions?”

“I don't think so,” Neville frowned.

“Do you know how much of the past 15 years they remember? Or how much they remember from before the incident?”

“Not yet, be decided to build trust by accommodating their request before more testing.”

“Wise choice,” Hermione nodded.

“Is there anything I should or shouldn't do?” Neville asked.

“Honestly, we have no idea. This is brand new territory for all of us.”

“May Hermione come in with me?”

The healer contemplated the question, “So long as her presence doesn't upset them.”

“Then let's go,” Neville looked at her. “You will come in right?”

“Of course.”

“I'm going to wait out here,” Marcus joked.

“If you don't think you can handle it,” Neville quipped back. They chuckled again, “Let's do this.” He stood, offering Hermione her hand. She took it allowing him the illusion that he was escorting her, not him clinging to her like a life raft.

Inside a plain visiting room two middle-aged patients sat together on the couch. Hermione recognized them from her visit to see Arthur Weasley back in 5th year. Both Frank and Alice Longbottom looked not only alert but engaged. Alice whispered something, and Frank squeezed her hand. They looked up when the door opened. Hesitantly. Neville stepped into the room. With a cry of joy, Alice leapt to her feet and threw herself at him. “My baby, oh, my beautiful baby boy.” She hugged him fiercely. Frank swiftly followed his wife to embrace their son, Hermione becoming trapped in the middle of a family hug.

Frank pulled back, noticing Hermione for the first time, “Who is this lovely lady, then?”

Neville beamed, “This is my friend Hermione.”

Alice looked at Frank knowingly, “Just a friend?”

“Yes, my oldest friend. She's the one who suggested this new treatment.”

“Muggleborn?” guessed Frank.

Hermione grimaced, “It's complicated.”

Frank nodded knowingly, “Pureblood adoption. I often told Albus that was the solution. But any friend who helps my son to this extent is a friend indeed.”

“I am so sorry we left you, baby.” Alice cupped Neville's face in her hands.

“How much do you remember after the incident?” Hermione asked.

“Bits and pieces flashes really,” Frank admitted. “Until I saw him just now I didn't realize the young man who visited us was Neville, and he told us that every visit.”

“Encountering people or things seem to bring back memories,” admitted Alice.

“Well, please, pretend I'm not here.” Hermione moved into the corner.

The Longbottoms sat together on the sofa. “Mum, Dad, what happened that night?”

Alice looked at her lap, Frank swallowed hard. “Bellatrix Lestrange and Barty Crouch, Jr showed up angry. They wanted to know what we knew about what happened to You-Know-Who. Couch didn't like being told to ask Dumbledore. Lestrange was completely unhinged. She kept demanding to know what was so special about us and the Potters. I don't know which one started the torture, but they both participated.”

“Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange sent me an apology for not stepping in fast enough. They funded the research,” reported Neville.

“How did they learn of it?” asked Alice.

“Hermione,” Neville glanced at his friend,” they adopted her when she needed a family.”

Both older Longbottoms looked at her, “I was angry and it made perfect sense at the time, still does. They've been good to me.”

Alice nodded, “The violence against innocents was the thing that sent us into the Order. Muggleborns need education to fully enter our society, they can be taught.”

“And Mother pushed us to join,” Frank added. His face hardened.

“Neville, when did you get a new wand?” asked Alice to break the tension.

“Uh, 6th year. I, uh, broke yours fighting in the Ministry.”

“Why were you using mine?”

“Gran wanted me to.”

“Did it work well for you?” asked Alice.

When Neville remained silent, Hermione spoke up, “It did not. His magic improved greatly after that. Though he didn't need it for his best subject. Your son is brilliant at Herbology!” Neville started to protest. “If you try and argue I will kick you in the shin repeatedly.”

“Fine, you win.” Neville chuckled.

“Good,” she settled back into her chair. Both parents seemed to drop the subject of his wand, asking questions about his life and plans, excited to hear about his apprenticeship with Professor Sprout.

Yelling in the hallway alerted them to an issue. Augusta Longbottom burst into the room. “Why is there a Flint outside? And who? You're the Lestrange girl. How dare you show your face here?” demanded the woman, her vulture quivering glaring down from his perch.

“Hermione is Neville's friend, and our anonymous benefactor, or at least the brains of it. She is welcome anywhere and everywhere any Longbottom holds any sway,” Frank barked.

“Francis! She's that bitch's daughter,” Augusta protested.
“You don't see me inviting her mother to tea, do you?” Alice retorted.

“But if you wish to discuss guilt by association, let's discuss how much influence Albus Dumbledore had over my son, shall we?” Frank roared.

“Um, Nev, this sounds super personal. Call me later if you need to talk.”

“I will, thank you, for everything,” he promised and Hermione fled.

Marcus stared at the door after Hermione closed it. “What happened in there?”

“Apparently the Longbottoms aren't as staunchly light side as we were lead to believe.

Chapter Text

“That's an interesting development.” Marcus rubbed the back of his head. “Now what?”

“Andromeda and Ted are having dinner with Lucius and Narcissa Sunday, trying to build bridges.”

He nodded, “Father's been on again about having you to dinner. Esme might be bringing a suitor home this weekend. Want to come watch the carnage?”

“You mean come help sow chaos because your father likes me best?”

“That, too.”

“Do we not like her suitor?”

Marcus shrugged, “He's okay, I suppose. He's a little older than her and rather stuffy and self-important. He's a minor official at the Ministry.”

“He called you a dumb jock, didn't he?”

“And worse, he referred to you as my latest jersey chaser.”

“Hmmm, high road or utter destruction? How does he treat your sister? If he treats her well and she likes him we shouldn't ruin that for her.”

“Spoilsport.”

Feeling nervous about dinner, she popped in on Narcissa for a visit. “Hello, darling, how have you been?”

“Fairly well, thank you. How have you been?”

“Splendid, I am so excited to be moving towards getting my sister back. I've missed her.”

“I suppose this also means, I'm getting another aunt.”

“It does,” Narcissa beamed. “Bella also mentioned you were having dinner with the Flints.”

“I am, hence the panic visit. Mummy Dearest doesn't really care about social niceties, her answer to what to wear would be clothes. Are there any social rules I need to know? Just do whatever.”

“Relax, darling, this isn't a high pressure event. What would you wear to a Sunday family dinner with your muggle family?”

“A nice dress with a cardigan maybe.”

“Sounds perfect. If Marcus, or his father, gifted you with any jewelry, you should wear it.”

“Should I bring a hostess gift?”

“Have Rabastan select a bottle of wine for you.”

By the time they sat to eat, Hermione wished she'd taken Marcus on a shopping spree at Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. Simon Mehville, Esme's beau, made Percy Weasley look relaxed and reckless. Before dinner, he droned on and on about his position in the Department of Magical Transportation. Hermione tried to inquire about the recent legislation proposed to allow flying carpets, only to have Simon dismiss her out of hand, and continue about his own importance.

Alva Flint joined them at the table, after snubbing them during cocktails Hermione attempted to engage her by complimenting the Consomme Olga. “This is delicious, have you tried the veal base?”

Alva sniffed, “I leave such determinations to the servants.”

Hermione's eyes narrowed momentarily, “Too many decisions can be overwhelming for fragile minds.”

Simon broke the following silence with more prattle about his job. Cressida rolled her eyes. In a moment of awareness, or perhaps a passive aggressive move to assert his superiority, he inquired after Hermione's employment. “I've been engaged in mostly independent research at the moment. Some things with the ministry, so most things I can't discuss. Oh, and a new treatment with St Mungo's.”

“Anyone I might know?” his tone suggested his disbelief.

“Mostly with Corbin Yaxley.” Simon eyes bugged briefly.

Marcus rolled his eyes, “That man would lock you in the Department of Mysteries if he thought Lestrange would allow it.”

“Probably,” she laughed.

Three courses later while the elves served cold asparagus vinaigrette salad, Malcolm made a bid to save them from more ministry induced boredom. “When will they be selecting the national team?”

“Second week of January.”

Alva gave Hermione a cold, mean little smile, “Will you be attending the games to support Marcus?”

“Certainly.”

“You didn't go to many of his games this season, nor practices.”

“Mum,” Marcus started.

“No, I did not. But sitting around the stands isn't my only means of support.” Hermione smiled tightly. “I do not demand his attention when he is working. I do not behave in a manner that would bring him negative press. I don't play mind games or flirt with other players. I treat quidditch like the meaningful career it is.”

Alva smirked, “What about Viktor Krum?”

“What about him? Viktor is a dear childhood friend. Neither of us appreciated Miss Skeeter's insinuations.” Hermione turned to the elves in a clear dismissal, “These eclairs taste divine.”

Alva looked annoyed at Hermione's slight in the protocol, but Merrick laughed. His wife glared at him, “Oh, stop it. You threw good manners out the window when you started questioning her like that. She's an intelligent girl from a good family. If both Rodolphus and Bellatrix weren't both dead set against it she'd have some kind of marriage arrangement with some scion with a higher social standing than us.” He took a bite of dessert. “And we agreed to encourage our children to find love. So quit, this one has claws.”

Simon exited as soon as the meal finished. Esme collapsed onto the sofa, “Alright, let's have it.” She crossed her arms, “You all hated him.”

“Hate is such a strong word,” protested Marcus.

“Could you actually see yourself married to him?” asked Cressida. “He's old and boring.”

“He isn't always boring,” Esme cringed as she said it.

“Name one thing he can talk about that doesn't relate back to his job,” demanded Malcolm.

“He's been to India and America,” she retorted.

“For vacation?”

Esme's face fell. “Work trips,” she admitted.

Hermione nudged Marcus. He looked at her. She gave him a strong look then tilted her head towards his sister. He gave her a pleading look, making her frown. Sighing, he spoke up, “Es, in the end, our opinions don't matter. Could you be happy being married to someone so old and boring?”

She looked at her brother, “I don't always find it boring. It's amazing to watch him be so passionate about things, even if I have no idea what he's talking about.”

“I get it,” he said quietly.

She glanced over at Hermione, “I suppose you do.” She frowned, “I know he's rather older than me. But most guys my age aren't interested in settling down yet, or they are already married.”

“Have you considered a slightly younger man?” Marcus asked.

She shrugged, “Why would he want an old woman?”

“Oh, good lord, you're twenty-four, you're hardly old,” snapped Cressida.

“I was going to suggest someone my age.” Marcus rolled his eyes.

Esme narrowed her eyes suspiciously, “Who?”

“A friend of Hermione's. And that's all I'm going to say right now. You think about it, and if you decide you want someone closer to your age, let me know.”

She considered the idea, “He would have to be a pureblood. Daddy would never let me marry anyone less.”

“Don't worry about it.”

“I'll think about it.”

Marcus accompanied Hermione home, “What friend do I have your age?” she demanded.

“Weasley.”

“Percy?”

“Come on, don't tell me Mehville didn't remind you of him.”

Her hands flew to her mouth, “Oh my gods! You're right.”

“And a relationship with her won't hurt his career, her family is connected to the new regime.”

“She's also quite pretty.”

“Sure, sure.”

“But it is her choice,” she told him firmly.

“Of course.”

A long-eared owl delivered a thick formal envelope to Hermione. It bore the Gringott's seal. Rodolphus and Rabastan stopped eating to watch her open it. She scanned the contents twice. She placed the envelope next to her plate and resumed eating. “A delegation from the Athens Gringotts will be arriving in London on the 28th of November. They hope I will find the time to meet with them to discuss the part of the Aegais legacy. Apparently, there are two estates, one on the Island of Ponza, and one near Mount Circeo.”

“And once people know someone can access them be prepared for requests to be admitted to study them,” Rodolphus told her.

“You mean demands,” she rolled her eyes. “The wizarding world is so entitled.”

“I think we should be warning them about her,” muttered Rabastan.
“Nonsense, don't ruin the fun.” Bellatrix smiled fondly at her daughter, “Give them hell, sweetheart. I want to review your memories of the more persistent fools,” she chuckled lowly to herself, sipping her drink.

A second owl swooped in, landing on the table. Hermione took the proffered letter and offered the bird a piece of toast. This simpler note was an invitation to Longbottom Estate for tea that afternoon if possible. She quickly penned her acceptance and sent it back.

Armed with Varl's famous truffles, Hermione arrived for afternoon tea. She decided to err on the side of formal given the wording of Neville's note. He nodded in approval when she entered the front parlor. “I worried you might misunderstand.”

She handed him the truffles, “As long as this isn't the beginnings of some archaic engagement ritual you are safe from my wrath for lack of warning.”

“No engagements, I promise. Mum and Dad wanted to meet you, and I wanted to explain about yesterday.”

“You don't have to explain anything, Neville,” she assured him.

“Okay, then I need to unload this on somebody, and you're the only one who will truly understand how I feel.”

“That is totally fair, and understandable. Fire away.”

He gestured for her to have a seat. “You know Dumbledore urged Gran to lift the Fidelus charm before Mum and Dad were ready. It wasn't just to remove ideas that the prophecy could be about me, they learned some of his secrets and were going to expose him to the Order. They were always pushing for the Order to stop using only light spells. To stop fighting 'fair,' and start fighting back. When the Death Eaters were in disarray they pushed for more inclusion for muggleborns. We can't confirm he suggested attacking my parents for information, but it seems likely. Even with the Death Eaters in disarray, he couldn't have his secrets shared. And he didn't seem to want muggleborns to have an easier time. Dad and Mum are livid.”

“I can't say I blame them. They lost two decades of their lives, of your life. You could have had siblings. You wouldn't have struggled for five years with a completely wrong for you wand.” Hermione replied. She looked him in the eye. “It is okay for you to be angry about all of this. You know that, right?”

“I don't know, it feels wrong. I got my parents back, that's more than other people will get.”

“Neville, a selfish man damaged your family because your parents refused to properly worship him or blindly follow his plans for his greater good. He used your grandmother to fracture your family. Be angry. Address it, feel it, so it doesn't fester and destroy you.”

“What about you? Aren't you letting it fester?”

“Hell, no. I'm righting the wrongs I can. You, sir, were just the first. Then I am going to reshape our society to be everything Albus Dumbledore didn't want it to be. I might parade his portrait through my successes.”

“Good to hear, Miss Lestrange. You can count on Longbottom support.” Frank Longbottom entered the room followed by his wife. “Though, thank you for helping Neville first, for a variety of reasons.” He winked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Hermione's face fell, “You're welcome, but it only feels fair to caution you, not all of this will be easy conversations and handshakes all around. After Neville, there are only three people left on my list. Well, besides Harry, but that feels like a lost cause. The Order cannot afford to stay hidden away much longer. And some will not be pleased to not have your support.”

Alice patted her hand, “None of us are so naive to think the bloodshed is over. We just want the innocent protected. Now, let us partake of this delicious tea, lest Breezy decide we didn't like it.”
Hermione and Neville spent the next two hours regaling his parents on their school adventures, the good and the bad.

As the first of December marked the beginning of the winter social season the invitations, both formal and informal, began pouring in. Given Bellatrix's complete disinterest in such events, unless her lover would be in attendance, Rodolphus deferred to her sister for advice on which events to attend and which to reject. The Malfoy matriarch sat at her small desk in the lady's parlor of Lestrange Hall with Hermione, reviewing the invitations. “How friendly are you with the Fawley girl?”

“I would at least consider extinguishing the flames if she was on fire.”

“Not at all, noted. We'll skip that one. Who are Oakley and Nora Barrett?”

“Oakley is Marcus's teammate, his wife is becoming a friend.”

“I'll put their party on the calendar.”

The results, even after Narcissa's winnowing, looked exhausting. Every Friday and Saturday, and even a few afternoons and evenings through the week, were booked. Hermione color coded them for the formality of dress, then marked which she would attend with family, and which Marcus would escort her to.

Then came the deluge of gifts, or rather, tokens of esteem from unattached purebloods. Each expressed his hope of seeing her in the coming weeks. Hermione glared at the heaps of flowers, some sweets, and a few trinkets. Rabastan happened to wander past, “Trying to light them on fire with the heat of your glare alone? I'd say it could never happen, but you do seem to thrive on doing impossible things.”

“One should try to do seven impossible things a day,” she quipped back.

“Some advise?” he offered.

“Yes, please.”

“Anyone you don't want to insult should receive a generic thank you note. Thank them for the sentiment and support. Nothing more. If Flint has a rival you can be warmer. Also, let me know when you plan on telling him and Roddy, I'm going to need some of that corn pop and a front row seat.

“It's popcorn,” Hermione corrected, “and no rivals, known or otherwise.” She noticed an arrangement from the younger Greyback.
“What if I want the sender to leave me alone and he's purposely not getting the message?”

“You let Roddy or myself know.”

“I don't want to be seen as weak,” she protested.

“Sadly, we are less progressive in some ways than our muggle counterparts. Any no not backed by a male relative or engagement is seen as the woman playing hard to get by some factions.” He held his hands up in surrender at her enraged facial expression. “I am not one of them, neither is your father. No one in this house is going to follow those antiquated ideas. Look at all the shite an arranged marriage caused here.”

She sighed, “I'm going to ignore it, no note, nothing. If he breaks protocol, I'll let you know.”

“If you're sure.”

“I am, I don't want to cause problems, so we'll do it your way. When that fails, I'll grab Mummy Dearest and we'll do it her way.”
“I hope our way fails, I'll bring popcorn for the show.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 25 Gringott, Horcruxes, and Oh My.

When Hermione announced her intention to meet with the Athens Gringott delegation, Bellatrix handed her the key to her vault and asked her to return some jewelry for her. “I hate those bloody carts.” Hermione's account manager, Ragnar was elated to assist her in the matter.

Once the large metal door opened, she felt it, the oozing, slimy evil of a horcrux. She shivered remembering the days of wearing the locket. She turned to Ragnar. “May I have a moment? Mummy Dearest was quite detailed with her instructions. This might take a while.”

The goblin nodded, “I will wait outside Join me when you are ready.” She nodded and began scanning the piles of galleons and items. At the very back of the vault sitting on a tall shelf, a silver cup with a badger etched on it sat waiting for her. Carefully, she levitated it into a silk pouch and then into her bag. She needed to go to Hogwarts and collect the last one, then find a better hiding place. Especially since Voldemort had agreed to destroy the locket in order to see what happened. Finished with her assigned, and unassigned, a task she exited the vault.

Ragnar escorted her back up to the lobby, never once mentioning the Greek group. Once in the lobby, he asked her, as he always did, “Is there any other way Gringott's can be of service, Miss Lestrange?”

“Yes, would you please arrange for refreshments to be sent to wherever I can meet with the visitors from Greece?”

“At once, miss, this way, please.” He led her to a large conference room. “I will summon the others and arrange for refreshments at once.”

Alone, she sat at the table and cast a translation spell Godric Gryffindor designed. She was eager to test it. Speaking not a word of Greek or the Goblin language, she refused to call it Gobbledygook, this would be a good test for how well it performed. Five goblins entered bearing trays and pitchers. They quickly set up a small buffet. Bowing to her, they departed as silently as they entered.

Seconds later two goblins walked in, then two humans, followed by four guards carrying massive chests. “Greetings, Miss Lestrange. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us,” the first goblin addressed her. “I am Ug, allow me to introduce Bodrad, Andreas Galanis, and Rhea Katopodis.”

“Hello,” Hermione waved.

Ug addressed the warriors in his own language, Hermione hearing both the spoken language and a translation, “Set those on the table, carefully now.” He opened the first and switched back to English, “The deeds and details to your new properties. Circe ensured only witch descendants inherited. Until you unlock the properties no one is able to enter them, magical or muggle. They have been sealed since 1717. The first is an 11th-century villa on Ponza Island just up from the grotto where Circe lived when she encountered Odyssey. The other is a dwelling carved into the base of Mount Circeo in Italy.”

Galanis sighed, “We can't tell you much about them because no one has been enter for centuries.

She nodded, “I understand.”

Bodrad handed her an ancient looking key, “The other chest contains the family grimoires. Again, the locks are keyed to you.”

“Do I need to open them now?” Hermione asked.

“Absolutely not,” Katopodis assured her, “Like our counterparts in Britain have told you, “These are your secrets to hoard or share.” She glanced wistfully at the chests.

“I do intend to share them, but on my own terms and pacing. I am tired of others deciding I owe them something because I exist, or because I have something they want.” She noticed all four relax slightly.

Ug held out four thick folders, “These are the requests to visit the estates for study, sightseeing, or search the properties for something.”

Bodrad smiled a mean little grin, “We took the liberty of weeding out the thrill-seekers, fortune hunters, and those who have passed on.”
“That is most appreciated, thank you.” She reached into her bag, “To demonstrate my willingness to share, Circe's wand for your perusal.

Galanis perked up, “Thank you, Miss Lestrange.”

Katopodis quirked an eyebrow, “Honestly, I'm more interested in your little bag there.”

“Undetectable extension charm paired with preservation charms. There is a modified summoning charm on the opening.”

The Greek woman stared at her, mouth slightly open, “That is brilliant. Do you have your notes on the construction?”

“I, uh, really wasn't at the point in my life where I had the luxury of making notes. And it worked the first time, most things do for me.” Hermione gave her a sad look.

Ug addressed Hermione, “We will leave you three to your intellectual exploits.”

“First, I have questions, please. Do these estates have house elves?”

“They do.”

“Is there a way to check on them? Are they okay?”

“We are able to communicate with them as the caretakers of the estate. They are well taken care of and have fulfilled their duties throughout the years.”

“Good to know, please have Ragnar send it.”

“As you wish.”

Hermione instructed her account manager to assist her in setting the house elves to complete a comprehensive inventory of the estates. And the order to use any means they determined necessary to repel uninvited visitors of a not innocent nature. “Any means,” she stressed. Galanis regarded her curiously, so she continued, “You are both intelligent enough to guess I am not a natural child of House Lestrange. I am a gamble that paid off. I have learned the hard way that those with knowledge keep it for their benefit. People want my knowledge, so will pay my price to obtain it.”

“What's your price?” he asked, curious.

She flashed him a feral grin, “Their knowledge.”

He nodded knowingly, “I shall be forever grateful the goblins respect your wealth and wish to foster good relations.”

“Indeed,” she laughed. She placed the crystal wand on the table. “You two drool over this while I organize my fan mail.”

Hermione created three piles: the possible yes, the definite no, and those needing further vetting. Katopodis got her attention, “May we photograph the wand?”

“I suppose so.”

“Thank you.”

Hermione incinerated the no pile. The two researchers regarded her in surprise. “No sense carrying around clutter. The others will receive a form letter advising them I will not be granting any access until I have surveyed the properties personally. I know some people will be disappointed, but that's the way it is.” She unlocked the grimoire chest and sent all the tomes and scrolls flying into her bag. “Have Ragnar place the deeds in my vault, please. It was nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy your time in England.”

“Thank you. I hope we will, too.”

Voldemort greeted her warmly, “Did you enjoy your visit at Gringotts?”

“I suppose, it was productive. I remained firmed that I will not be pressured into allowing research groups in until I have laid eyes on the estates. Ragnar is organizing the inventories as we speak.”

Voldemort nodded in approval, “Rewarding good work with more responsibility can pay off.”

“Speaking of that, do you have someone that could look into some people for me? They want access, but I will not have people stealing from me, or popping up claiming things belonged to their ancestors.”

“I have some people.”

“Thank you. Now, we are here to do things best left to supervisors, not the common rabble,” she sniffed in derision.

He chuckled, “So, true.” He handed her a vial, “Basilisk venom. Though I warn you, it may fight back.”

She nodded once, “Noted.” She prepared a workspace, removing the locket from her bag. Delicately she dropped four drops of venom onto the locket.

Dark gray smoke billowed out, twisting into shapes. A harsh voice whispered, “No one can stand you. They just want to use you. Ugly, unlovable trash. No one thinks you are worthy.” Resolutely, she dropped two more drops. With a scream, the smoke twisted and dissipated.

She frowned, looking down at the blackened, twisted remains, “Such a shame to have to destroy such an artifact.”

Voldemort met her gaze, frowning, “Do you believe those things?”

She shrugged, “Yes and no. Those are my insecurities, but logically I can provide myself with facts showing the opposite. Those aren't even close to the worst things I've been forced to think about me, or things that have been said to me.”

He started to speak, only to double over as the fragment of his soul slammed back into him. He grunted, then panted as his breathing became labored. “This is quite unpleasant,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“I imagine it is. What can I do to help?”

“Get me a house elf, please.”

“Bee,” Hermione called. The small creature grinned and danced in place to be of service. “Please assist Lord Voldemort. He's experiencing discomfort.”

“Of course.”

Leaving the dark lord in the hands of her Malfoy house elf, Hermione placed the sizzling remains in a stout container and took it to Black Island. She placed it with the remains of the diary. She had been unable to find the ring after Dumbledore destroyed it, much to her annoyance. After a moment of hesitation, she placed the cup with the others. She would bring the diadem once she found it.

She returned to Britain and sought out Lucius. She gave him an edited version of the events. “The whole point is your lord is a bit out of commission, but absolutely know why.”

Lucius nodded, “With our truce in place, I doubt he will have to be his imposing self.”

“I believe that was his plan.”

“Incidentally, the aurors are no longer looking for Hermione Granger or Ronald Weasley,” he told her.

“But still looking for Harry?”

“But only Harry,” he confirmed. “The official stance
is still that he knows something about the death of Albus Dumbledore.”

“I suppose that's fair. Thanks for the warning about Ron.”

-oOoOo-

Ginny tossed the newspaper onto the table with disgust. She had been raised to despise purebloods like the Lestranges, but even she couldn't believe they would stoop to adopting a mudblood. She checked the byline, Rita Skeeter. She snorted, the daft bint had completely lost the plot this time. Molly looked over, “What do you have planned today?” Ginny shrugged. “You cannot sit around and do nothing all day. You only passed with one NEWT. You won't be marrying anyone until this war is over. You need to find something to do. Or I will find you something.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose. She had no interest in reorganizing the Burrow again. “I'll do the shop then, shall I?”

“That would be most helpful.” Molly bustled about the kitchen creating a list of things the household needed. She handed her daughter a bag of coins, “And I want change, young lady.”

Ginny rolled her eyes when Molly turned away, “Yep. Bye, Mum.” She hurried out the door before Molly could think to caution her to hurry back or only venture to the nearby village. She apparated to Diagon Alley, thinking she might stop by the twins' shop. Anything to break up the monotony.

She window shopped as she made her way through the crowds. With Christmas coming shoppers were out in force hunting for the best gifts and bargains. Ginny paused in front of an exclusive boutique. She admired the chic robes in the window display. Someday she promised herself. Someday she would have the Potter vault key and access to all that beautiful money.

“You would look stunning in the green,” a voice breathed into her ear, his voice husky, “Should I buy them for you?”

Without turning around, she answered, “What makes you think I can't afford them for myself?”

“Because too many children for too many generations depleted the Weasley wealth.” He ran a hand down her hair. “Such a shame that a beauty like you dresses in hand me downs. Let me spoil you.”

“In exchange for what?” she asked in a hard voice.

He chuckled, “Your time, your attention, perhaps a little taste of your flesh should the desire consume us. I promise we'll both enjoy it.”

“And what happens when I want to end this little arrangement?”

“Either of us can walk away at any time, no questions asked,” he promised.

“No questions answered. Alright then, I want my new robes first.”

“But of course,” he moved to her side and offered his arm. “Shall we shop then?” She kept her expression neutral when she saw his identity. Her family would lose the plot. But she was tired of waiting for nice things. She wanted to be pampered now, and she wanted someone else to do it. Why couldn't she enjoy herself a little? Mrs. Harry Potter's sex life wasn't going to be about her needs anytime soon.

She took her arm, “We shall.” She beamed up at Thorfinn Rowle as he escorted her inside. That night she admired her reflection in the mirror as she twirled about in her room. The new robes did look good on her. She'd have to glamour the love bites on her neck, but the orgasms had been worth it. He explained the muggle concept of sugar daddy.

It wasn't prostitution. He would buy her things or give her money for things. In exchange she would spend time with him, she didn't have to have sex with him if she didn't want to. Three orgasms in one hour suggested she should, and would. They already had plans to meet the next afternoon. Giddy laughter bubbled out of her, “Stop it,” she told herself sternly. “Don't forget your goal- Mrs. Harry Potter, the Chosen One.” She nodded at her reflection. She removed the robes, glamoured her skin, and stepped into Harry's room to keep her place by his side locked in place.

Chapter Text

Chapter 26 Werewolf Negotiations

Every news outlet mentioned it somewhere, the miracle recovery of Frank and Alice Longbottom. St Mungo's remained tight lipped about the source of the inspiration for the treatment but was distributing the study for peer review. Snape reported they had reached out to Potion masters worldwide to recreate the effect of the benzodiazepine. Hermione sent him a copy of the original research. The twins sent the Lupins a copy of the Prophet article with a note, 'Our Dark Side liaison did this.'

Handing the note to Remus, Dora sighed heavily, “We need to meet with them. Whoever it is the twins are talking, I mean. Mum says all their dinners with the Malfoys have gone well. They're discussing including the Lestranges.”

“But not us?” he asked.

“We are adults and known members of the Order of Phoenix. Mum says we deserve our own approach and not be influenced by them.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” He scrubbed his face with his hands causing Teddy to laugh and bang his highchair. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to raise our son in peace. I want him to have friends to play with.”

“So we talk to the twins' person,” he held eye contact.

“I suppose so.”

George offered their flat as neutral ground for the meeting, asking the Lupins if they wanted to arrive first or second. Appreciating the reassurance this wasn't an ambush, they chose first. Tonks emerged from the fireplace followed by her husband. “You cleaned,” she remarked looking around.

“Can't have the other side thinking we live like peasant swine,” Fred joked.

George moved around him to the floo, “The Rookery,” he called. Remus looked at Tonks in confusion, the Lovegoods had chosen a side? “They're here if you're ready.” He pulled his head out and stood, joining the rest of them. The green of the flames deepened, flared, and a figure emerged. Tonks blinked trying to place the girl before her. Remus sniffed the air twice before surging forward to embrace her, “Hermione.”

She returned his hug, “Hello, Remus.” She waved, “Dora”

“Where have you been? Why? How?”

Hermione held her hands up in surrender. “Why don't we have a seat and I'll start at the beginning.”

Fred gestured to the living room and the kitchen, “Couches or tables?”

“Table,” chose Tonks. “Give me something to fidget with if need be.”

Fred locked the floo, “I'm heading downstairs just in case the uninvited pop in.”

“Thank you, Fred,” Hermione beamed at him.

He gave her a deep bow, “I live to serve, my lady.” She swatted him as he passed.

Taking a seat next to George, she gave the Lupins a little smile, “Congratulations on having a son. The twins told me.”

Remus returned her smile, “Thank you.”

She passed them a small roll of parchment and an ink pen. “Try to hold your questions as you can. This is in case you want to take notes. Okay, here goes, events occurred that caused me to break several charms placed on me by Albus Dumbledore. Restrictions on my mind, magic, and will. He forced me to make friendships and tolerate mistreatment. He made me believe I was unattractive, my only value being a know-it-all. I was forced to dedicate my entire being to learning so Harry could enjoy his life and still have all the knowledge Dumbledore wanted him to. I was under a compulsion to put Harry first in all things, even personal safety.” She gave them a moment to let that sink in. “I was eleven when he did this. When he realized he was dying he added Molly Weasley to the obedience charms. She added Ron. Who then ordered me to date him, ignore his infidelities, and remain at his side despite them. Upon realizing this I needed distance. I escaped. I was angry, and did something reckless.” Remus looked amused.

“Hard to imagine,” Tonks smirked.

“I wrote to Voldemort and suggested a high stakes game of hide-and-seek. When I won he would teach me everything he knew about the dark arts. You cannot defend against what you do not understand.” Remus nodded his agreement. “When I won I could not ever be harmed by him or his. A provision I did not extend to him, any Death Eater, or follower. I am not stupid. I spend three months living undetected by anyone. Any questions so far?”

“What did you offer Voldemort as a prize?” Tonks asked.

“He could see any memories he wanted, I would willingly take his Mark, and the follower who found me could do anything they wanted.”

“Hermione!” protested Remus.

“I had to make it enticing.”

“How did you become a Lestrange?” asked Tonks.

“We'll get to that. Once I won I settled my muggle affairs and met up with the enemy. I was an honored guest at Malfoy Manor. Voldemort assigned me tutors and with Snape's assistance, I sat my NEWTs under a false name. To shorten a long story the Lestranges became fond of me and needing an heir adopted me. And before you ask, as to the Death Eaters, I like some, I tolerate a few and may have to arrange accidents in the future for some more. I do not hold with the rubbish of pureblood superiority or the mistreatment of sentient races. The Dark Side is not all right, nor are they all wrong. But I found the crimes of the Light to be worse.”

“Hermione, Dumbledore was protecting the greater good.”

“As the leader of the ICW, he could have pushed for werewolf protection on a worldwide level. He did not. He manipulated you to be grateful he allowed you into school. At that time there were 52 school age children afflicted. Why only you? Why you? Because he wanted a spy in the packs, and your father would have been relieved if you died or disappeared doing it.” She glared, her voice cold and hard, “A grateful flunkie, tutored at his feet, charmed to obey any command and feel grateful he was even asked. You were expendable.” Tonks rubbed his arm soothingly as Remus stared slack jawed. “He charmed Tonks and Kingsley to obey him when his orders contradicted their morals, oaths, or orders from the auror department. Bellatrix confirmed Snape suggested questioning the Longbottoms for information about Voldemort. Snape told me Dumbledore instructed him to.”

She gave them a moment to process her words,” I choose my side because Voldemort and I have come to an accord. I will not stop him from massing power if the violence stops. He is the one who offered to work to end the discrimination. I demanded he reach out to the Order individually. Those of you Albus wronged deserved to know. And those of you that want peace should not be held to the whims of Molly Weasley's rage. If you need more time to weigh your options I understand.”

“What does he want?” Remus asked.

“To know your conditions for a ceasefire and to arrange peace.”

Tonk's hair turned brown with surprise, “Huh?”

“You state what you want. If those terms are acceptable, he'll send word of his agreement. Once you see proof of his efforts you cease working with the Order and against him, unless in a professional capacity.”

“Just like that?”

“If he agrees. If he doesn't he'll send a counter suggestion to open negotiations.”

“Why?” demanded Remus, “why now?”

“This war has stalemated long enough. He's tired of fighting, too. Because he wants me working with him not against him.”

Tonks looked pensive, “Why? You're not the Chosen One.”

She chuckled mirthlessly, “No, I'm not. I'm the unknown power spoken of in Harry's prophecy.” They all looked stunned. “I am descended from all four Founders, Merlin, and Circe. I have their grimoires and a rather stout magical core. Since Dumbledore didn't see a personal advantage in it for him, he blocked those memories and enslaved an eleven-year-old to his will. Thank gods he was gay,” she gave a little laugh. “If I was the heir, he wanted to control how and when I found out if I found out. This annoyed the castle. During his last year when his focus and power started to wane, the castle showed me a lineage tapestry. Gringotts confirmed it.”

“But Dumbledore said it was love,” protested Tonks.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “While Voldemort has no experience with the emotion personally, he is aware of it, and does manipulate people with it. Lily and James Potter were hardly the first parents to die in defense of their loved ones. But someone got Lily to perform an ancient and nearly dark ritual to protect her son. Hmm, I wonder who did that?” She pretended to ponder it, tapping her chin with her index finger. “He was a user and abuser. I have decided to right his wrongs, including ending this war.”

“Even if it means killing your best friends?” Remus asked in a soft voice.

“Ronald was never my friend. He tolerated me as a means to an end for his own benefit. Perhaps Harry was once,” she shrugged.

“Did something happen you haven't told us about?” asked George.

“Yes, but that will remain my secret. They may not even be aware of my knowledge. But no one has to die.”

“But neither can live while the other survives.”

“Would you say either is really living right now? And when one of them tires of life the other will have to end him. But Harry has to make his own deal with the devil.”

“Do you trust Lord Voldemort?” Remus asked.

“To keep his word, yes. He stands to lose too much. I know secrets he wants kept, and secrets he wants to learn. And to harm me or cause me to be harmed is to lose his magic. Now, completely? No, but I don't trust anyone completely anymore. I have contingency plans in place.”

“Plans?” questioned George.

“Some of them even involve inviting you along.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“You're welcome,” she dimpled at him.

Remus took the parchment and wrote several lines. He showed it to Tonks. She nodded her agreement. He pushed it towards Hermione. “Above the line is non-negotiable, below are wishes. If he balks at the top, I will push for the bottom. That's what I need to feel safe and truly at peace.”

Hermione perused the list, “It has been great seeing you. I'm sorry if you worried.”

Remus sighed, “This explains some of Molly and Ron's behavior. I'm sorry we never noticed.”

“Had you he would have ordered you to ignore it. Hell, maybe he did. When you were a teacher your oath to support him would have enforced your silence and cooperation. My anger is reserved for those who knew what was happened, had the opportunity to stop it, and did nothing.”

Tonks gave her a hesitant smile, “I suppose we're cousins now.”

Hermione grinned, “We are. I have to say, I like you more than my other cousin.”

“I'm inclined to agree.”

Hermione notified Voldemort of her return home, inviting him to meet with her at his convenience, promising to wait for his owl. Maisie greeted her clearly agitated. “Mistress, you has a visitor. I tells him no one is home, he needs to be going, but he demands on waiting for mistress.”

She frowned, “Do you recognize him?”

“No, mistress.”

“Hmmm, what to do? Go tell him I'm indisposed to visitors, he may leave his name and go.” The house elf hastened to follow her instructions. She sent Marcus a message asking him to come. She then sent her patronus to Rabastan and Rodolphus.

Maisie returned, wringing her hands, “Mr. Pavel Greyback demands mistress to stop being silly female and submit to her better.” Maisie's eyes darted about, a crazed panic lurking in them.

“Did he say anything else?”

“If you did not come in five minutes he woulds be ripping out Maisie's throat.”

Fury like she rarely felt before surged down Hermione's veins. Curling and uncurling her fists she swallowed until her vision cleared. “You have absolutely nothing to fear from that man, and neither do I.” She pulled out her crystal wand and stalked out of the room.

Pavel Greyback leaned against the wall, one leg bent with the foot against the wall. He straightened as she entered. “Ah, there you are, my pet. Ready to submit to the inevitable.”

“The inevitable?” questioned Hermione in a cold voice.

“I've told you, I always get what I want and I want you.” If she hadn't wanted to incinerate him before, she did now.

“I believe I was quite clear. I do not want you,” her voice cold and flat.

“Oh, you silly girl, you don't know what you want,” he shook his head, chuckling fondly.

“Did you threaten to rip out my house elf's throat if I did not answer your summons?”

“But you did, so no harm needed to be done. Such a good girl.”

He never saw the first hex, but he felt it. Every nerve in his body ignited as if on fire. “Crucio? Naughty girl, I'll have to punish you for that.”

She sent the spell flying at him again. “Not a Crucio, not even close.” She slashed her wand sending him to his knees. “I am not now, nor will I ever be your pet, your girl, or anything. And if you so much as look at my house elf I will castrate you and make you eat your penis raw!” With several rapid wand movements cuts blossomed all over his body. He fell, twitching, to the ground.

Marcus, Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Voldemort appeared in the doorway. She raised an eyebrow at the last. “I got this message and wanted to escape Narcissa in party planning mode. No one is safe.”

“Give me six good reasons to not kill him,” her voice could have frozen a volcano.

“His uncle would be upset,” offered Marcus.

“I was quite clear at my party he was never to enter my presence again. Keep trying.”

“His uncle has a test of followers,” suggested Rabastan.

She cocked her head to the side, considering, “I have lists of new spells to try. Next?” Pavel whimpered on the floor. She kicked him, “Shut up. You elected to ignore my warning.”

“He is Greyback's heir,” Rodolphus told her.

“And I'm yours, if that excuses his behavior, it excuses mine.”

“He has a penis.”

“I can change that with a flick of my wrist.”

“Hermione, please?” Rodolphus gave her a pleading look. “Try to keep the peace. If Greyback let his people run free everything you've worked for fall apart.”

She growled and levitated Pavel, “Listen to me and listen good. If we have to repeat this conversation for a third time I will bring Bellatrix with me and she will help me. She will give zero fucks who anyone is, she will help me skin you alive, roll you in salt, and drop you in a vat of rubbing alcohol. Do you understand? Nod if you cannot talk.” He nodded, she rotated him by squeezing his still bleeding arm. “Now, in front of my father, uncle, boyfriend, and for all intents, grandfather; I am telling you I have zero interest in you for anything and demand to be left alone.”

Rabastan looked at him, “She means it. She's not interested. No one in this family can or will force her to marry anyone she doesn't want to. Leave it alone.”

She spun him back around, “Try any funny business to force this issue, or harm my choice, and you will not survive long enough for a wedding, let alone a wedding night. No one will ever find the body.” She released the spells and he collapsed in heap. She looked at Voldemort, “Next time we do this Bella's way.”

She stalked out of the room, grabbing Marcus's hand as she passed, and pulled him from the room behind her. Once they were upstairs she burst into tears releasing the stress. He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing circles on her back and making soothing noises.

A calming draught and quick shower later, Hermione returned to the parlor. All of the men stood, Rodolphus approaching her, “Feeling better?”

“Yes. Why are wizards so stubbornly stupid?” she grumbled.

“They can be a lazy lot, having become accustomed to the wonders that are magic. They forget what it is like to work for things.” Voldemort told her.

She snorted, “Magic is a tool. Stunningly powerful, but still just a tool.” He started to protest, she held up a hand, “We will have to agree to disagree. Between Dumbledore's meddling and fighting a war for seven years, there is no wonder left. For me, magic is just a tool, one I wield well. Congratulations if you can still find wonder in it anywhere.”

Frowning, Voldemort nodded, “Let's be seated. What did the Lupins have to say?”

“They are open to negotiations but have some sticking points. Points I agree with.” She looked him directly in the eye.

“Do you think I will agree with them?”

“I think some of your organization won't. But I don't think very highly of them, so I don't care.”

Voldemort raised an eyebrow, “Given Lupin's affliction I expect they have to do with werewolves.”

“Specifically Greyback's crimes and pack, but some with werewolves in general.”

“Let's hear them then.”

She consulted Lupin's list. “One nonnegotiable, it will be a kissable offense to knowingly infect a minor with lycanthropy, no exceptions. Lycanthropy cannot be used as a punishment for your, or Greyback's displeasure. Two, no more public werewolf registry. A restricted access one could be kept but in exchange for registering the werewolf get access to affordable medication and aftercare. They have to report to a safe location for transformation or provide proof they have one. But they also will have job protection, they cannot be fired for having to miss a few days every month.” She paused, “In the muggle world tax breaks or other incentives are offered to employ people who have a hard time maintaining employment. We could institute something like that.” She looked over the note. “Three, up for negotiation, knowingly infecting an adult is a criminal offense with mandatory imprisonment. Four, and my personal favorite, Fenrir Greyback's head on a pike. And five, disbanding the packs and reintegration of these witches and wizards into society. Including some kind of education.”

Marcus pursed his lips, “Remus Lupin attended Hogwarts for seven years without incident, or anyone discovering his secret. He taught for an entire year and no one realized it until Snape told us directly.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Hermione smirked.

“Of course, you figured it out,” he rolled his eyes.

“Admittedly, only because Snape had us write an essay on werewolves. That brought the symptoms to mind and I extrapolated from there.”

Voldemort looked pensive, “As amusing as your violent streak is, I cannot give you Fenrir's head. And he will push back against dissolving his power base.”

“You would enforce the criminal nature of purposely infecting people?”

“Going forward, yes. Even if we know the cases, we cannot prosecute old infections,” he told her.

“You could, but you won't,” she retorted.

He ignored her statement, “You are, however, being remarkably calm about my refusal to give up his head or disband the packs. I expected at least an attempt to sway me, given today's events.”

“Was there a question in there?”

“Why?”

She shrugged, “Because based on his nephew's behavior, this isn't over. I will have both eventually. He thinks this was an adorable little act of rebellion, a feisty little part he will have to tame. But, ultimately, he believes he will get what he wants because he wants it. I'm not kidding about last chances and Mummy Dearest. And when that ticks off Fenrir, I will put him down, too.”

“Moving on from your murder plans,” started Rodolphus.

“Is it though?” Hermione pondered, “He's more rabid animal than sensible wizard.”

“No killing except in self-defense,” her father ordered, “and no manipulating them into attacking.”

“Fine,” she pretended to pout.

Voldemort chuckled at her antics, “You may inform the Lupins of which terms I accepted. If they agree we will move forward. For their protection, they should follow the example of your other allies and lay low. I will pass the word they are off limits.”

“On it.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 27 Out and About

Nora checked with Hermione that she and Marcus were coming to the party three times, “I know, I sound desperate and pathetic. But my brother-in-law is a git. He looks down on athletes and treats them like they are stupid. He goads them into playing trivia games, trounces everyone, and then is a poor winner. I need a ringer, a smart ringer to beat him.”

“Okay.”

“I bought a brand new muggle trivia game just to give you a leg up.”

Hermione laughed, “How can I lose?”

“That's the outcome I'm hoping for, Oakley, too.”

Waiting for Marcus to pick her up, Hermione appraised her appearance. She selected a deep purple jumper dress paired with black stirrup pants and knee-high black leather boots. She twisted back and forth in front of the mirror. “Not bad,” she told herself.

“Not bad?” a deep voice from the doorway startled her. “Try fucking fantastic.” Marcus crossed the distance, pulling her into his arms. “I'd offer to stay here and make sure you can't walk tomorrow but Barrett says Nora's keyed up we're coming.” He claimed her mouth in a searing kiss.

“Hmm, she is. I'm going to intellectually devastate her brother-in-law by beating him at his own game.”

“Are you? That's always hot.”

“And you get to watch.”

“I do, don't I?” He kissed her neck and then pulled back. “We shall have to do the responsible thing and attend. Once you finish destroying his self-esteem, we come home and I shag you rotten.”

“That's been the plan since the beginning, where were you?”

He shrugged, “You never said anything, it would be rude to just assume.” She playfully smacked him, “Hey, now, no rough stuff. Save it for later.”

The Barrett's home turned out to be a modest three bedroom in a quiet village near Falmouth. When Hermione express she found it adorable, Nora's sister and her husband, Lindy, and Lawrence, expressed that they did not, and were not shy in sharing their opinion. “London is far more cosmopolitan and trendy.”

Hermione frowned, “But expensive and crowded. Kids need room to run and play.”

“That's why there are parks,” Lindy sniffed.

“Where you can't fly a broom because of muggles,” pointed out Oakley.

“Children don't need to fly around all the time,” Lawrence declared. “They need culture and sophistication, educational things.”

Hermione sipped her drink, “Children, even more so than adults need work/life balance. They need to recharge with unstructured time. Highly intellectual children even more so.”

Lawrence ignored her, “Our children don't need to waste their time with silly games throwing balls at each other.”

“Like chess, I find quidditch to be very strategy based. I should think developing new plays to be mentally challenging.”

Lindy laughed, “Spoken like a good little quidditch wife. It's all quite glamorous until the children come along. Then he's off to exotic locales without you, and you're home changing diapers lamenting your lost youth.”

Marcus burst into gaffs of laughter. They all stared at him, “Sorry I just imagined having kids. Between Maisie, Bee, and Sunni, I can't picture us getting the chance to change the diaper.”

Hermione giggled, “Especially since I can see Uncle Bas insisting on hiring a nanny elf per child.” Together they dissolved into laughter. Their demeanor halted the conversation.

Marcus leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Remind you of anyone?”

“We cannot let your sister marry Mehville. Percy at least appreciates the value of relaxation, even if he fails at doing it.” She thought for a moment, then asked, “What is it with middle class purebloods and these attitudes?”

“Probably failed social climbing and arranged marriages, that's my parents' problems.”

“That reminds me, we still haven't discussed your mother.”

He took a long drink of his beer, “Later, not exactly party conversation material.”

“Fair enough.”

Not long after that Lindy began badgering Nora to bring out the trivia games she and Lawrence wanted to play. Sighing heavily, Nora pulled out the box. “I got this is the office Christmas swap last year, it's literary trivia.”

“Right up my alley,” Lawrence rubbed his hands together. Veterans of Barrett parties groaned.

Nora opened the instructions and began reading, “For teams or single players. Each team or player gets a question, if they answer correctly they score a point. If the player is incorrect, another player can steal the point by answering correctly. Gameplay continues until one team, or player reaches twelve points.” She looked around the room, “Teams, I assume?”

Adrian threw himself over the back of a couch, “Hermione's on my team.”

Marcus wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, “Get your own girlfriend.”

“Boys, teams can be more than two,” Hermione patted Marcus's knee while Adrian smirked at him. Lindy and Lawrence made a team, while the beaters opted to make a third. Everyone else opted to watch the carnage.

“Age before beauty,” Adrian offered Lawrence, the other team laughed.

Nora held up a card, okay, Team Sophistication, first question. Who were Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell?”

“Hmmm, they are characters from Hemingway.”

“Sorry, no. Anyone for the steal?” Nora asked.

Hermione waved her hand, “They are the pen names of Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Bronte, chosen because they were unisex names more associated with males.”

“Correct, one point for Team Adrian.” Nora rolled her eyes as she said the name. “Team Beater, you're up. What state do Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn live in?”

Both Moore and Ferguson looked clueless, “Um, Texas?” guessed Moore.

Hermione's hand shot up. “That's incorrect,” Nora informed them, “Hermione?”

“The boys live in Hannibal, which is in Missouri.”

“Another point for Team Adrian. Now, your question, what title did the author want to use for Pride and Prejudice, before being convinced to change it?”

“First Impressions.”

“Correct!” And so it went, Hermione knew exactly where to find the quote, “All the world's a stage.” That Edgar Rice Burroughs was the pen name of Norman Bean. She knew the Bobbsey twins were Bert and Nan and Freddie and Flossie and that Michael Bond had given Paddington Bear his love of marmalade. She had just stolen the name of the Jungle Book boa constrictor, Kaa, out from under Lawrence's nose. No one seemed to care she dominated the game because he wasn't.

Nora selected another card, “Lawrence, Lindy, what is the longest book ever written?”

He smirked at Hermione, “In Search of Lost Time.”

“Wrong,” laughed Hermione, “that book is only 1,267,069 words in length. The correct answer is Artamene ou le Grand Cyrus. It is 1,954,300 words in thirteen volumes.”

Nora nodded, “Point to Team Adrian. Okay, Team Beater, which book did Oscar Wilde write about immortality?”

“We have no clue. Hermione?”

She rose her hand faster than Lawrence, “The Portrait of Dorian Gray.”

“Correct.” Before Lawrence could object to the beaters asking their opponent for the answer, Nora continued. “Team Adrian, what was the first novel ever written?”

“Tales of the Genji in 1008 by Murasaki Skikibu, and Japanese noblewoman.”

“Correct. That's eleven points for Team Adrian. Team Sophistication, your question, what is the name of Charles Dickens's last, half finished work?”

Lawrence looked lost. Smirking Hermione raised her hand. Panicking Lawrence just blurted something out. “Greater Expectations.”

“No, Hermione do you know?”

“The Mystery of Edwin Drood.”

“Yes! Team Adrian wins!” Nora cried to the cheers of the crowd.

Hermione looked around smiling, “That was fun, we should play again.”

“You cheated!” protested Lawrence.

“Has it ever occurred to you that you aren't always the smarted person in the room?”

“Oh, because you don't think the same thing!”

“My life experiences have taught me that I will not always be the person who knows the best way to do things or have all the answers. Intelligence comes in many forms. She leaned back against Marcus. “I'm kind of tired, are you ready to go?”

“Sure.” Despite Adrian's protest that the night was young, they circulated making their farewells.

Marcus escorted her to her bedroom door. He pressed her against the wall as their good night kiss heated up. She swiped her tongue against his lips, causing him to open his mouth with a moan. Her tongue tangled with his. He pressed into her even more firmly, grinding his groin against hers, causing her to whimper. He nipped at her lips, before moving down to nibble at the base of her ear. Regretfully, he pulled back, “Good night, little dove,” he whispered against her skin.

“Good night?” still reeling from the kiss, Hermione's mind searched for meaning behind the words.

“You said you were tired. I figured you wanted to get some extra sleep. The Selwyn's things are pretty big.”

“I'm not that tired,” she took his hand. “C'mon, brute.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Hermione began shedding her clothes as she walked to the bed. “Um, Hermione? What about your parents and uncle?”

“The rents are having dinner with the Malfoys and Uncle Bas told me not to wait up.”

“They won't be out all night,” he mentioned nervously.

“That's what silencing charms and security wards are for, silly.” Completely naked she climbed up on the bed and crawled to the headboard. “Will you be joining me, or am I going solo tonight?” She looked him in the eyes with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” He stared at her wondering where his shy girl went.

“Solo it is then. Shame.” Slowly wetting her lips, she held eye contact, until he broke his gaze away to follow her fingers as they trailed down her soft skin. She brushed her finger through the dark curls at the apex of her legs. He swallowed hard, unable to look away. She gently rubbed
her clit in slow circles alternating with up and down movements, moaning softly. With her other hand, she massaged her breasts, first one then the other. As desire pooled in her center, she dropped her head back onto the pillow, breaking eye contact.

“Sweet Salazar, little dove, have mercy.”

In response, she sped up and made a keening sound as she got herself off. Breathing heavily, she lay limp enjoying the small afterglow. She had intended to tease him longer, but the knowledge he was watching, and enjoying the view, added a boost that tipped her over the edge. She felt the bed dip as Marcus joined her, “Holy hell, dove, that was so fucking hot.”

“Yeah,” she gave a breathy sigh, “it was.”

“Unless you have any objections, I intend to pound you into this mattress now.” He moved so that the tip of his cock pressed against her moist slit.

“Yes, please.” She pushed up, moving the tip just inside of her. He growled, surging forward. He pulled back then slammed forward again. He wrapped her legs around his waist, reached forward, and gripped the headboard for balance. Together they set a frantic pace. Each thrust pushed Hermione down into the mattress. She began moaning, twisting, and crying out in tiny little bursts. “Oh shite, oh Marcus! Oh, fuck!” Her entire body tensed, her walls gripping him tightly. The tension broke two strokes later, blinding pleasure washing over her.

He continued the punishing pace, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his end. “Hermione, oh, love you, little dove.” He collapsed next to her.

She brushed the hair off his face, “Love you, too.”

He pulled her to him, “Can't fall asleep, father murder.”

“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled already snuggling in, sleep pulling her under.

Sunlight streamed through the window. A throat clearing woke Hermione. She blinked and smiled at Marcus. He grinned back, “Good morning, brute.”

“Good morning, little dove.”

“Good morning,” a deep voice greeted them. Startled, both shot up, Hermione thinking to bring the sheet with her. Rodolphus stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, glaring at them.

“Good morning,” Hermione chirped, starting to climb out of the bed.

“Freeze. I do not need to see you naked. Ever.” Rodolphus stopped her. He turned his attention to Marcus, “You best be using protection. I would prefer grandchildren long enough after the wedding that people don't count backward on their fingers.

“Of course, we are,” Hermione snapped. “We're not reckless children without self control.” Rodolphus's face dropped at the venom in her tone. “I am going to excuse this as too much dinner party, not enough breakfast, and try not to be too insulted.”

“Er, you're right, my apologies.”

“You're forgiven this time,” she told him.

Rodolphus scrubbed his face with his hands. “I hope this is the only time. Flint, we expect you at Christmas dinner at seven. Don't be late.”

“Yes, sir.” Rodolphus nodded and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Marcus looked at Hermione, “What happened to your wards?”

“Oops.”

“Oops! Oops?”

“They must have expired overnight.”

“Please tell me you weren't lying to Lestrange about protections because I did forget last night.”

“Of course not. I'm on the potion and cast the charm. I don't want to risk children until this war is over. I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to an innocent baby.”

“Very sensible,” he kissed her forehead.

Hermione grinned, nuzzling him, “I like to think so.”

-oOoOo-

Two days before Christmas Narcissa arrived at the Hall with Luna in tow. “Good morning, Aunt Cissa.”

“Hello, darling. Since your mother has zero interest in her wardrobe, I will be helping you select your ensembles for the New Year's ball. It is a masquerade this year.”

Luna clapped her hands in delight. “I've always wanted to attend one. They sound so elegant in the stories.”

“Yes. I also invited your friends, Vanessa and Alexandra, as well as Marcus's sisters. Since you seem rather attached to him, the press will begin to focus on them more.”

“That's very kind of you,” Hermione hugged the older woman.

“Not really, I always wanted a daughter to dress up. So, I'm stealing Bella's. Shall we?” She gestured to the floo.

The manager at the high fashion boutique flipped the sign to closed when she recognized Narcissa. “Mrs. Malfoy, ladies, welcome. How can we assist you today?”

“My niece and her friends need gowns for the masquerade.”

“This way, please.” She led them to a back area of the store. “These are our costume gowns, animals inspired to the right, fantasy people to the center, and colored gowns to the left.” She clapped her hands and three salesclerks appeared. “We are here to assist you.”

Perusing the racks Hermione heard Esme and Cressida whispering over the lack of price tags. “Did Narcissa not tell you? This is my treat. I had no idea of what you for Christmas, so dresses it is.”

Cressida looked concerned, “We can't accept. That's just too much.” Esme nodded her agreement.

Hermione began laughing, “It is so adorable that you think this is optional. Narcissa already opened my tab, and included you in it.”

Esme studied her closely, “Why?”

“I plan on keeping your brother. Numerous sources have mentioned that our relationship could put more attention on your family. I don't want anyone making snide comments about your appearances or speculating on your financial standing or lack therein. Meaning, that today you find something that looks fabulous and don't worry about your father's blood pressure when the bills come in.”

Cressida sighed, “It doesn't seem like we have much of a choice, do we?”

“You do not. If it helps you can consider this your birthday and Christmas gifts.” She smiled, “Honestly, your support with your mother is all the thanks I need.”

“Mother can be difficult,” Cressida admitted. “She and Daddy were an arranged marriage. Their arrangement had a clause dictating they had to have two male offspring. Malcolm came first, and things were good, but...”

“Along came two girls?” Hermione guessed.

“Daddy was never discreet with his mistresses. Practically rubbed them in Mother's face. And their vows forbid her from seeking attention outside the marital bed.”

“And to fulfill her obligations she needed him to grace it.” Esme picked up the narrative. “Marcus was the answer to prayers in more ways than one.”

“It has left Mother bitter. She refused to let Father make us arrangements. At the same time, no one is good enough, no one could make us happy.”

“I'm sorry,” Hermione whispered, unable to imagine it.

“Don't be. It isn't your fault. But speaking of happy...” Esme trailed off blushing.

“I can speak to my friend. If he's interested I think I will invite him to the masque. You two can get to know one another without preconceptions.”

“I'd like that, thank you.”

“Don't thank me yet, you might hate each other.”

“That's fair.”

“Now, let's shop,” Cressida linked arms with both of them.

Alexandra and Cressida selected color-themed gowns. The former
opted for a mask that changed her hair color to match the blue of her gown. Esme and Luna both chose animal inspired outfits, Esme a delicate swan, and Luna a bright tropical bird. Each suited the girl. Hermione deliberated. With a sly smile, Luna suggested a phoenix. Hermione grimaced and shook her head. Vanessa looked over, “How about a butterfly or a dragonfly? They both represent new beginnings, that's why I'm going to pick one. I'm hoping for a new start this year.”

“I like it. I'll take whichever one you don't want.”

Vanessa looked over the monarch butterfly costume and the dragonfly. “Be the dragonfly, all that black will overshadow me.”

Hermione examined the slim black sheath dress with a boat neckline. A shimmering layer of raw acromantula lace gave the dress an iridescent sheen. The wings were glittering works of art. The mask twinkled with green, blue, and opal jewels. “Try it on,” urged Alexandra.

The second she slipped it on, she knew it was the one. It accented her curves without bulging in the wrong places. She could sit, stand, and move without ripping a seam or tripping over the hem. Narcissa declared it perfection. She instructed the sales clerks to box up the purchases for them. She turned to Hermione, “Having just reconnected with my sisters, I want to have a family lunch on New Years Eve. Arrive around one, you can get ready at the Manor.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Bring Marcus,” ordered Narcissa.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Dora and her spouse will be joining us at the ball, and bringing their son to lunch.”

“More Teddy time sounds splendid,” gushed Hermione. “Odd question, but may I invite a plus one?”

Narcissa raised an elegant eyebrow, “Does Marcus know?”

“He will, it was his idea after all. He suggested introducing his sister to a friend of mine. Where better than one of, if not the, most exclusive social event of the season?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere. How were you not sorted into Slytherin?”

“I asked for Gryffindor. I was the longest hat stall of the century.”

“Of course you were.” Narcissa linked arms with her, “Bring your friend.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 28

Hermione visited the Ministry, inquiring at the desk for directions to the Department of Regulations. As usual, when she entered the hallowed halls of government, Corbin Yaxley appeared. “Are you stalking me?”

“Not quite, but I have left instructions to be notified when you arrive.” He fell into step with her as she kept walking. “If you're going to work anywhere in the ministry, it should be with me.”

“I'm here on a personal errand. One I do not need your help with, thank you.”

“When you do need help you know how to find me.”

“Sure, appear in the ministry.”

“Precisely,” he smiled.

A bored looking receptionist sat at the desk filing her nails are charming them different colors. “Excuse me?” Hermione started.

Without looking up the young woman interrupted, “If you wish to file a complaint use Form 32F to the right. If you wish to file for a change in regulation use Form 41H in the center. If you need an inspection use Form 26N on the left.”

“No, I need to see someone.”

Again without looking up, “Calendar on the wall, ink yourself in.”

Hermione approached the large board hanging on the wall. “There are no openings.”

“Exactly, we are a very busy department. Please fill out and submit your form. Should an official need more information you will be contacted.”

“Balderdash,” Hermione muttered angrily. “I wish to speak with
Percy Weasley, please.”

“Mr. Weasley is a very busy man. Please fill out and submit your form.” She held out her hand, appraising her handiwork.

“I don't need your department, I need to speak with Mr. Weasley. Would you at least look at me while we're speaking?”

The girl looked up, disdain painted on her features, “Look, sweetheart, I know you spoiled princess types expect everything to be handed to you because you demand it. But this is the grown up world, that doesn't happen. Run along and go spend all of Daddy's money.”

Hermione looked over her absurdly short skirt and heavily made-up face and snorted, “Get over yourself. You are desperately trying to attract a rich husband. Keep dreaming, they might indulge in a good time with you, but you are just that, a good time.”

Rage shot through the girl's eyes. “You have two minutes to leave this office.”

“Or what?” Hermione narrowed her eyes, her hands rested on her hips.

“I will summon security.”

“And tell them what exactly? That a tax paying citizen demanded a public servant do the job she's paid for?”

“I'll tell them you threatened me.”

“So, you'll lie?”

“What of it? They'll believe me over you,” she smirked.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Hermione glared. The receptionist raised her wand. “You call security and I will make it worth my while. It'll take them what, fifteen, twenty minutes to get here? Plenty of time to mess up your face. Or perhaps you'd be more helpful to me as a chair?” She raised her wand.

Whatever might have happened next was lost as the department doors swung open. Thaddeus Carbottom and Percy Weasley stepped inside. “Natalie, why does Miss Lestrange have her wand drawn on you?”

“Because she refuses to do her job and threatened to perjury herself to security to have me removed for demanding she does it,” Hermione answered without taking her eyes off of Natalie.

“She's lying!” protested Natalie.

“Why would she lie?” asked Carbottom.

“I, she, uh,” stammered Natalie.

“I feel you should review the inner workings of your department before official complaints are made. I would focus on these forms and that calendar.”

“I believe you are correct, Miss Lestrange. How can we assist you today?”

“I wanted to speak with Mr. Weasley on a time-sensitive matter.”

“He's all yours. Percy?”

“This way, Miss Lestrange.” Percy gestured towards his office. Hermione followed him. “How can I help you?”

“Are you seeing anyone?” she decided to skip social niceties and just jump into the fire.

“Um, no,” he answered, clearly confused.

“Do you have plans for New Year's Eve?”

“Um, again, no, why?”

“You are my plus one to the Malfoy Masked Ball,” she informed him.

“I'm what?” he yelled.

“My plus one. Before you panic, yes, Marcus knows. We agree you and a friend of ours would be perfect for one another. But she's nervous about meeting you. So, I suggested inviting you to the Malfoy event. Unable to identify each other, you can get to know one another without preconceptions getting in the way.”

“Like the ultimate blind date?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Okay, I agree.”

“Can you get formal robes on short notice?”
“I have black formal robes and can get a basic mask easily.”

An idea occurred to her, “I'll get your mask, a black swan. She'll be a white swan. I will send you matching flower accessories so look for a white swan with a corsage to match your boutonniere.”

“Sounds like a plan. And thank you, Hermione.”

“You're welcome.” She paused before leaving, “Percy, do you honestly like your job?”

“Off the record?” She nodded. “Not really. I know it is important, I know it isn't glamorous. It pays the rent and I remind myself of the importance of regulations. But the events around the tournament and the fiasco once they didn't need me to spy on Dumbledore had ensured it'll take decades to move up around here. It's lost its appeal, but I don't know how to do anything else.”

“So if someone offered you something different would you take it?”

“It would depend on the job, I suppose,” she shrugged.

“I'll keep that in mind.” She opened his office door, “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Weasley, Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Miss Lestrange.”

Citing her other children's lack of paramours, Alva Flint declined to invite Hermione to any family holiday events. In silent protest, Marcus changed his plans to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with Hermione. He would spend Boxing Day with his friends. Hermione put her foot down and demanded he spend Christmas morning with his family. His siblings deserved to see their brother. He returned to Lestrange Hall after lunch, joining Hermione in the library. “Is it me she doesn't like? Or my family?” she asked as they snuggled on a couch.

Marcus shrugged, “She hasn't said. If I had to guess, it is a combination of bitterness and jealousy. She's always been bitter over Father's treatment of her. And she's jealous my choice would be Father's choice if they were arranging things. She can be just as controlling and manipulative as he can, and knows. Which infuriates her, she then lashes out at the safest target. And I promise you she has never considered Merrick Flint the safe target.” He took her hand and squeezed. “We talked about it, the four of us, and either she comes around and accepts our partners as they arrive, or she'll find herself out in the cold.”

“Marcus, that isn't fair.”

“Fair or not, we all agreed. She stops being so dramatic or we won't involve her in our lives.” He silenced her protest with a passionate snog. “So, who will be at dinner?”

“Us, the Lestranges, the Malfoys, the Tonks, and the Lupins.” Marcus made a small face, “What? Oh, yeah, meeting the whole family, as family. Don't worry, Remus and Dora are kind of in the same boat.”

“They are already married, sort of different.”

“Hush and stop arguing or I will light your new broom on fire.”

He stared at her in horror, “Not my Firebolt Mark 2! That cost you a fortune! You wouldn't.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Try me.”

“You are a cruel woman.”

“And, yet, you love me. What does that say about you?”

“I like them feisty and there are consequences to playing with fire. I'm also a quidditch player. I've taken numerous bludgers to the head over the years. Probably knocked some common sense loose.”

“You're lucky I like you.”

“Only like? What happened to love?”

“You called me cruel,” she answered flippantly. Despite his best efforts his face briefly fell, uncertainty mixing in his expression. She continued, “Luckily for you, my good sense overrides my cruelty. We're back to love.” She kissed him soundly. Softly, still in his embrace, she whispered, “Never doubt my feelings. The depth and breadth of my complete adoration of you scares me sometimes.”

He tightened his hold, “Scares you how?”

“We've been together about seven months, that's not all that long, not really. But I can't imagine any future with you not in it. No matter what daydream you're there.”

“And that's bad?”

“Scary does not have to mean bad,” she sighed. “From the age of eleven to fifteen, no one but my parents called me any kind of attractive. Most barely noticed I was a girl. Ron never complimented me while we dated. The compulsion to date him, overlook his flaws, and take care of him tricked my brain into believing I loved him. I have similar thoughts and impulses now. Which makes me worry about moving too fast. But don't let my issues make you doubt us, because I don't.”

“How fast is too fast?”

“I don't know,” she huffed.

“Do you care what others think?”

“No,” she rolled her eyes at the thought.

“So, we agree only our opinions matter?”

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“Great. We met at twelve and fifteen respectively. Studied together for a year and a bit. Fell out of touch because someone made a judgment about someone else. We won't name names.” He wiggled his eyebrows getting her to giggle at his antics. “At fifteen and eighteen you wowed everyone with a stunning gown. I discovered the beauty that went with the kindness, compassion, and brains. I graduated, you finished growing up. The universe brought us back together. I wouldn't say we're moving all that fast.”

“You are manipulating the facts to suit your theory.”

“So? I liked you when you were twelve. I wanted to rip you out of Krum's arms and keep him away when you were fifteen. And now that you are twenty I want to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off to my bed and keep you there.”

“Brute.”

“All yours. Which is how you like it. My point is, that we both feel the same way. And sooner, rather than later, I will muster up the courage to ask you and Rodolphus some questions about the future. After you agree, Narcissa will plan one of the biggest weddings of this decade, while my mother complains about everything until your mother hexes her. Eventually, we'll have at least one child.”

“I'd like at least two. Being an only child can be lonely.”

“Okay, at least two kids. I'll teach them to play quidditch, and you'll teach them everything else.” She laughed shaking her head. “Now, does any of that sound all that scary?”

“No.”

“Good, now stop fretting. Want to put on your new jersey and go flying?”
“Hell, no!” she chuckled. “And your school quidditch jersey isn't new.”

“New to you.”

“Well, I intend to use them for sleeping and lazing about the house.”

“When do you laze about the house?” he questioned.

“Boxing Day, I spend it watching television and doing some light reading.”

“You know you don't have to wear them if you don't like them.”

“I do like them. They are rather comfy,” she assured him.

Marcus rubbed the back of his neck, “I had no idea what books you might like. I considered jewelry, but wanted something more sentimental.”

“Sentimentality is more impressive than expensive. Not that I would refuse any gift, that's rude.”

“So, you don't want to go flying, how can we entertain ourselves until dinner?” He pulled her onto his lap and began kissing down her neck on one side, across her collarbones, and up the other side of her neck. “Any thoughts?”

“Not a one,” she whispered leaning back in his arms.

“Oh, for Salazar's sake! Knock it off. People are present,” Draco stomped into the room.
“Go away, Malfoy,” Marcus muttered. “Then there won't be people anymore.

“No, I've been commanded to appear and greet the returned family. If I have to be miserable, you get to be miserable.” He dropped onto the couch, leaving room for Hermione between them.

She slipped off of Marcus's lap, “What's so miserable about Christmas dinner?”

“On one side of the table is my disinherited aunt, her muggleborn husband, their half blood daughter, her werewolf husband, and their half breed son. On the other side is her zealot older sister. Sounds absolutely fucking delightful.”

“Mummy Dearest has promised to be on her best behavior.”

Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously, “Promised who?”

“Voldemort. He told her he expects her to be an example of reunification. We've discovered muggleborns are the descendants of squibs.”

Draco's eyes grew wide, “Adopt them into the family and they aren't muggleborns anymore.”

“As cadet branch members they will have family affiliations to help them network in their new world.”

“Were you related to the Lestranges then?”

“No, my adoption was because Rodolphus and Rabastan liked me.”

“Brilliant plan though,” he remarked.

“Why thank you, Draco.”

“Of course, it was your idea,” he rolled his eyes.

“Don't hate just because I'm smarter.”

The initial introductions before dinner were awkward until eight-month-old Teddy threw himself at Hermione, showering her face with baby kisses. His hair turned bright blue. “Hello, sweetheart. I'm happy to meet you, too.” Teddy babbled her in response.

Remus chuckled, “I think I found Teddy's new favorite person.” As if to prove this point, the baby cried when separated to eat until he realized his high chair sat straight across from Hermione.

Draco smirked, “Watch out, Flint, looks like you've got some competition.”

“Good looking competition, to be sure. Lucky for me Hermione likes her men older. Sorry, mate,” he told the infant.

Dora chuckled while Remus rolled his eyes, “Nothing wrong with that.”

Ted addressed Hermione, “Thanks for the recommendation for the new Entertainment department. By turning down the initial offer, I've got money thrown at me to consult.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“They've got a good lead into television. But programming will have to be piggybacked from muggles for awhile.”

“No ways around that?” Lucius inquired.

“Television recording and broadcasting are more sophisticated than radio. We will get there eventually.”

“We?” asked Rabastan.

“The Wizarding World in general,” Ted paused to take a bite. “With this increased interest in technology, the people who know more about how it works will be sought after.”

“You aren't going to stick around for the fame?” asked Narcissa.

“No, I'm not a big tech guy. I just know more than the rest right now.” Ted shook his head. “My interests lie elsewhere.”

“If you could do anything, what would you do?” asked Hermione.

“Before learning about magic, I wanted to be a teacher.” Andromeda patted his hand.

“Not many schools in the magical world,” Hermione conceded.

Remus noticed the calculating look on her face, one the others might have misinterpreted for simply interested. “What are you plotting?”

“Me?” she asked innocently. “Why would you think I was plotting something?”

“I know you. I've seen that face, I know that face.”

Draco perked up, “Me, too. You get that face right before something devious happens.”

She looked at Teddy, “Do you see how I get treated?” He banged the table in front of him. “I agree, completely underappreciated. Thank you, Teddy.” The baby flashed her a tiny toothy grin.

“So nice to see how much he adores his godmother, it's like he knows.” Tonks smiled at Hermione.
“Really?” Hermione looked from Tonks to Remus and back again.

“Yes, we agreed around month eight of my pregnancy that you and Harry would be the baby's godparents, but we weren't sure an owl would reach you, and wanted to tell you in person.”

“Oh, my goodness, thank you so much.”

Draco leaned over to Marcus, “Want to wager who spoils him more, Auntie Cissa or Auntie Hermione?”

“Nana Andromeda will,” his aunt informed him. Everyone laughed. At the end of the evening, Hermione made plans to meet Remus and Teddy at an indoor baby play place in two days.

Sensing her lack of attention Marcus seized the opportunity to speak with Rodolphus privately. “What's on your mind, Flint?”

“Hermione and I discussed the future earlier, and I wanted to fulfill my obligations related to that conversation, even if the traditions mean nothing to her.”

“Oh?” Rodolphus raised an eyebrow.

“We agree that we're heading towards marriage. I wanted to ask your blessing.” He swallowed nervously.

“You realize she won't like knowing this conversation took place?”

“She knows I intended to talk to you. She knows she has the final say in the matter. My proposal will be a question for her to answer, not a demand or a formality.”

“Then for what it is worth, I give you my blessing,” Rodolphus clapped him on the back.

“Thank you.”

Rodolphus laughed, “You mean, wish me luck.”

“Yeah, that, too.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 29 Boxing Day

Boxing Day felt wrong. No grilled sandwiches, no movie marathon, nothing that reminded her of her childhood. She dressed the part in her new jersey and jeans, but that was it. She moped until Marcus, Graham, and Peregrine popped in. “Nice jersey,” complimented Graham.

“You couldn't spring for a new one?” Peregrine questioned Marcus.

“I could, but there is something extra sexy about seeing a Gryffindor in Slytherin colors. Like you corrupted them or something.”

“You're right,” remarked Graham, “now I need one for Luna.”

“She's a Ravenclaw,” pointed out Hermione.

“But she looks so innocent,” countered Graham.

“Yes, but her innocence is only skin deep.”

“So's yours.”

“And?” she arched an eyebrow.

“Nothing, just making an observation.”

She looked at the other two, “Did you lot want something?”

Peregrine plopped down next to her, “We're bored.”

“Am I suppose to entertain you?”

“Nah, we're just collecting people so we can be bored together,” he grinned and bumped against her shoulder playfully. “Are you bored?”

“Not so much bored as homesick. This is my first Christmas in a different life. I miss my old customs.”

Marcus grinned, “We can help with that. We round up a few more people, or not. You get what you need to celebrate Boxing Day, we pop over to your other house. We help you spend the day your way.” His smile faltered. “That is if you want to.”

She considered the suggestion. She could collect the odds and ends she needed for food. They left the rec room set up. And she could hex anyone who decided to wander about the house uninvited. “You know what? Let's do it. Um, no more than fifteen total. We can meet back here in an hour. I have to tweak the wards and get the food together.”

He kissed her forehead. “We are on it.” The boys hurried to the floo.

The wards took her a few minutes. Gathering the ingredients took longer. Varl took her intention of cooking for others as a personal insult. He ran about trying to punish himself until Hermione agreed to show him how to cook the food she wanted to serve. Maisie came to help. Both were interested in the idea of apple, grape, and orange juice. Hermione grumbled under her breath about emotionally manipulative house elves as she went to meet the others.

At Lestranges Hall, Luna, Vanessa, and Alexandria compare notes on the window seat. Draco, Theo, and Blaise sat chatting with Daphne and Astoria Greengrass. Adrian, Cassius, and Marcus say on the couch. “We're just waiting for Boles.”

“Wait no longer, we're here. Brought Jenevieve along.” His fourteen-year-old sister waved from his side. Astoria perked up seeing the other younger girl.

Hermione addressed the crowd, “So, ground rules: please do not touch anything you do not 100% know how it works. None of it is dangerous if properly used. Please do not wander about the house. I have not removed items of extreme personal value. Some of the movies are old and made for children, but they are beloved classics, spare me the commentary on how cheap and poor quality they look.”

Draco raised his hand, “None of us have seen anything like this before.”

“Except for me,” interrupted Luna.

“Except for Lovegood,” continued Draco, “who wouldn't dream of hurting your feelings. Point is, we have no frame of reference for any of this.”

“Point taken. Thank you, Draco.” Looking straight at Luna, she continued, “Keep your damn hormones in your pants. Parkinson and Higgs's display was enough for one lifetime. Last, if you have questions, ask them. About the movies, the house, the food. Nothing will hurt you, but some of it will seem strange. Varl demanded to cook for us, so he'll be preparing the food. The movies revolve around Christmas, so Father Christmas, or Santa Claus, will feature heavily. In all cinema and television shows Santa is presented as real, even if people express doubts, the audience is shown he is real. Be prepared.”

Hermione conducted a quick tour of the ground floor. She demonstrated light switches and the fancy button flush handle Eleanor thought so elegant. They ended up in the kitchen. “My family would have an easy lunch of fancy sandwiches and crisps. We would eat while watching movies. Your choice is a croque monsiuers, or croque madames.”

“So, I'll ask, what?” Adrian said, making everyone laugh.

“I was getting there. They are grilled sandwiches made of ham, and Gruyere cheese, and seasoned with salt and pepper. If you add a fried egg to the top you have the madame. We also have your choice of two types of crisps. There is apple, grape, and orange juice to drink.”

“No pumpkin juice?” questioned Blaise.

“Nope, this is my thing, so my preferences.”

“You don't like pumpkin juice?” Daphne inquired.

“Try to juice and ask me again.”

“The other girl sipped apple juice, “Question withdrawn.”

Ladened with plates, Hermione led the group to the rec room. She claimed her spot and then put her favorites into the multi-disk DVD player. “First up, Rankin and Bass 'A Year Without A Santa Claus'” She snuggled under a throw with Marcus. When the same girl sang “Blue Christmas” she couldn't help from shed a few tears. Marcus squeezed her leg and rubbed small circles on her thigh.

The disc changer automatically loaded the next movie, another Rankin Bass, “This one is called, 'Santa Claus Is Coming To Town.'” Quietly she sang along with the playful Miser Brothers.

The purebloods asked respectful questions, wanting to create a better frame of reference, or understanding when confused by the characters or their actions. At the end of the movie, Hermione halted the player. “Anyone hungry?”

“Have you explained pizza to Varl yet?” asked Marcus.

“No,” she said slowly, considering the options. “But we could order delivery. I can get him one to study.”

“Supreme?” he asked eagerly.

“Of course, I'm getting supreme, don't be silly.”

Curious, most of them followed her to the kitchen. They exchanged curious looks when she consulted a large book before picking up an upright remote. She pushed some buttons and then listened to the box against her ear. Seconds later she started talking like someone could hear her. “Is that like the telephone in the movie?” Jenevieve asked her brother. Hermione nodded without halting her order.

“I know no one likes coming back here. I will meet the diver at the playing fields. Yeah, the spot everyone waits at. Yep, the house at the way way back.” She paused, “Do you want a card over the phone or check when you deliver?” She listened, “Honestly? Check, please. Thank you.” She pushed another button and replaced the box. “Okay, the pizzas will be in 45 minutes. I'll have to go down and meet the driver because of the charms on the house.”

“Why does your telephone look different?”

“Decades of technological advancement. Things are compact and more efficient.”

“Blaise looked around, “How are you getting the pizza? You can't apparate or use a broom.”

“I'll drive.”

“Drive? Like an automobile?”

“Yes, in an automobile. And before you even ask- yes, I can drive. I have my license and everything.”

“I want a ride!” he pumped his fist in the air. Chimes of “me, too” followed. Hermione shook her head and grabbed her keys. She spent the wait time driving up and down the half mile drive with excited purebloods bouncing on the seats like small children. Finally, she announced, “Okay, I have to go meet the delivery driver.”

“Everybody out?” asked Theo.

She nodded, “Everybody out.” They made reluctant sounds. “Wait, Marcus and Adrian stay. I'm going to need help. Everyone else, Luna's in charge.” She turned Malcolm's Range Rover around and headed down to the road. She pulled into the lot for Highgate playing fields. “Now, we wait.”

Seven minutes later a small white Fiat whipped onto Courtenay Ave and next to Hermione. A teenager jumped out and began pulling out cardboard boxes and plastic bags filled with soda bottles. Hermione handed him a check with a hefty tip added. “Thanks, dude. Awesome.” He helped Adrian stack the boxes next to him in the backseat. Hermione returned to her house at a more sedate pace.

In the kitchen, she directed Varl to sort and stack the boxes by type. She asked Maisie to fill glasses with ice. “Your attention, please. Pizza is a bread crust topped with marinara sauce, cheese, and other toppings. It is eaten with your hands. The beverages are called soda or muggle soft drinks. This stack is cheese only, this one is pepperoni, this one is sausage, and the last is called supreme. It has pepperoni, sausage, bell peppers, mushrooms, black olives, and onions. Dig in.” She took a plate and selected her food and drink.

Back in the rec room, she announced, “You guys have been great. So, as a reward, the next movie is my dad's favorite. Ask questions as we go. This one isn't animated, so it has real people acting. And they use technology. A lot.”

After the opening sequence, Luna asked, “How is Die Hard a Christmas movie?”

“It takes place at Christmas,” Hermione replied dryly. The males in the group loved it, the females enjoyed it but with less enthusiasm. Hermione had to promise future movie nights with films for everyone to avoid fights, especially after Luna explained chick flicks. As afternoon gave way to evening the guests began leaving. Eventually, only Hermione and Marcus remained.

They stood watching Graham and Luna walking hand in hand to the apparation point Hermione created. He rested his hands on her hips. “Any plans tonight?”

“No, why?”

“I plan on ravishing you in your childhood bedroom while you wear my school team jersey.”

“I did wonder if you were as affected by the sight as you seemed to be by the idea.”

“Indeed, but I couldn't drag you away from your guests, Ades would have never forgiven me for making you a bad host, especially your first solo event.”

“My first time hosting anything.” The thought and associated emotions hit her all at once. “My first time ever.” she choked back the sob. She twisted in his arms, burying her face in his chest to muffle the sounds. “And my parents missed it.”

“Sh,” he soothed, holding her tightly. “From what you've told me they seem like the kind of people who would be proud of the new life you've built for yourself. Not the kind you would want you to wallow in what might have been. They would be happy you found a family, one you helped heal.”

“I know, but standing here without them, it all comes crashing down.”

“I get it. But now, before you decide it is time to claim the house for yourself and redecorate, invite me up to your room and let's defile your childhood bed.”

She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I have no idea why that sounds as hot as it does.”

“Forbidden act,” he told her matter of fact.

“I suppose so.” She opened the door to her lilac colored bookworm's paradise. “What to see my room, maybe stay awhile.”

“You know it.” He took told of her hips and began walking her back towards the bed, snogging her the entire way.

Maisie delivered a note to Hermione the next morning, inviting her to lunch with Luna. Intrigued by the invite she arrived early and had the pleasure of watching her best friend and her boyfriend arrive together holding hands. Luna said something and Graham responded by kissing her forehead. She made her way towards them as Graham's closest friends arrived. Luna lunged forward, hugging Hermione tightly. “Hello to you, too, Luna.”

The blonde released her, “Sorry, I'm just super excited.”

“I can see that. Do you want to get a table first, or just blurt it all out here?”
The second one! Graham proposed last night!” She held up her left hand to show Hermione her engagement ring. The pale yellow diamond twinkled from its nest of rose gold petals. Vines formed the band.

“That is dazzling, Luna.” complimented Hermione.

“Now we can go get a table and discuss everything else,” Luna beamed at them. “I needed to get that out.”

Seated at the table, Luna confessed their intentions of a more traditional ceremony. It would be a small personal ceremony like her parents and grandparents had. The next ritual night would be Imbolc in February. Graham patted Luna's hand, “All Mum and Dad asked is that they get to hold a reception for us the following weekend.”

Adrian laughed, “How did you get your mum to agree to that?”

“Lu reminded her those rites usually produce grandchildren faster. And she's willing to let Mum plan everything for the reception, even her clothes. She gets to play Mother of the Groom and the Bride.”

Marcus's eyes lit up at the idea of a hassle free wedding, “Say.”

“No,” Hermione stated firmly. When he started to protest, she continued. “Fine, but you have to tell Narcissa her chance to play Mother of the Bride is off the table. Then tell Rodolphus that you want to get married outside, at sunrise, skyclad.”

His face fell, “Forgot that part.”

“We aren't completely naked the whole time, and guests are welcome to stay clothed, or not. Only the bride, groom, and our attendants will undress.” Luna reminded him. “Mione, will you help me make our robes?”

“As long as you don't expect me to start at square one, yes. I am not spinning thread and then weaving cloth on a loom.”

“No, I'm not making the cloth, I'll buy prepared material.”

“Then I'm in.”

Adrian smirked at Marcus, “We're all going to see your girl naked.”

He shrugged, “And? If you touch the Lestrange brothers will destroy you for me.”

Cassius looked nervously at Graham, “Who are you choosing as your attendant?”

“My brother jumped at the chance to be mine. Not sure why. I would think keeping his clothes on would be in his best interests.”

While the boys poked fun at the absent Arthur Montague, Luna quietly addressed Hermione. “You don't think I'm too young? To get married?”

“Do you think you're too young?” Hermione turned the question around. “Yes, muggles marry later in life on the whole, but some get married young. For me, it is a matter of being prepared for everything marriage brings.”

“Between the Quibbler and Quidditch, we'll be financially set. And our families would help with children when we both needed to work. The rest is learning to live with other people.”

“Have you discussed where you want to live?”

“On our own at first, then possible with Daddy. He'll be alone. And Graham's family doesn't have room for both sons to stay at home with their family. But nothing set in stone.”

“Sounds like you've thought this through. Follow your own path, Lu, only you know if you're ready.”

“I always thought I would marry young, like my mom.”

“There you go.”

“Thanks, Hermione.”

Escorting Hermione home, Marcus took her hand as they strolled through Diagon Alley. “Have you ever considered what kind of wedding you want?” he asked casually.

“Not really. Though I agree with Luna, we should live on our own for a while.”

“Agreed. Also, if possible we should never live with my family.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Happily for us, I have a house, and am currently the only heir to Lestrange Hall.”

“Well, that's settled.”

“And you make good money at your job, and I am set, so that's settled,” she swung her arm playfully.

“It is. And we know we want more than one child, but less than a quidditch team.”

“Also settled. Aren't we just breezing through this?”

He took a deep breath, hoping this next thing didn't upset her. “I asked Rodolphus for his blessing at Christmas.”

She nodded, “I see. I assume he gave it since you're still standing here.”

“He did after I assured him that I understood it will be a question, one you can refuse if that is what you want.” He squeezed her hand. “I haven't gone ring shopping or anything.” He smiled at her nervously.

“I'm okay with this,” she assured him. “We're moving at our own pace. And having these conversations are part of that. It keeps us on the same page. And now Uncle Bas and I can have some fun with Roddy. Lots of hand gestures and rings on all the other fingers to get attention.” She laughed.

“You two have fun with that.”

“Oh, we will.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 30 Malfoy Masquerade

Growing up with the philosophy ten minutes early is on time, and on time is ten minutes late, Marcus arrived at Lestrange Hall twenty minutes before they were due to leave for lunch at Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix greeted him with a tight smile. “I'll have the elves deliver your clothes with ours.” She called for an elf to collect his garment bag. “Now, before Hermione or Roddy know you're here, Pavel Greyback.”

“All I know is he is Fenrir's nephew and heir, he's obsessed with Hermione, and follows the older traditions.”

She nodded, “Same, but you asking after him won't garner the same attention my asking would,” she replied.

“Fair enough, what do you want to know?”

“If he works, where he spends his time, is he stalking any other young woman, and who his friends are.”

“I'll ask around.”

“Good lad. I knew I liked you.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Oh, and, Flint? Let's keep this between us, shall we? Roddy and Rabastan might feel like they have to keep the peace, I don't share those sentiments.”

He nodded, “Yes, ma'am.”

Tonks waited until they had been seated at the table and the elves served the first course before sharing her news. A chance encounter with Charlie Weasley revealed he and Bill shared the Lupins' concerns about the future and the stalemate of the war. “He indicated they would be interested in talking about moving forward with peace talks.”

Lucius nodded, “Do you think Hermione, or someone else?”

Remus spoke up, “Not Hermione, in their minds she's their youngest brother's friend, not the brilliant powerful witch you know.”

“Adrian or Peregrine? Younger than them, but not someone they would associate with bad family stories?” suggested Rabastan.

“I'll discuss it with the others. Now, at the risk of Cissa's wrath for shop talk at the table, what of Shacklebolt?

”The violence has stopped, if the worst of the corruption and abuses of power were to be cleared up, he would be happy. I think he'd be open to talks.”

“Excellent, now what's new with you, Master Edward?” he addressed Baby Teddy who babbled at him in response. “Hmm, I see, that good? I shall take it under advisement.”

“What have you been up to, Remus?” asked Hermione innocently. Marcus glanced at her, he had started to learn that tone meant she had something up her sleeve.

“Mostly being a stay home parent with the little man here.”

“Any trends of personal research?”

“Causality of baby mood swing trends. Not a lot of time for anything else.”

If onsite child care could be arranged would you be interested in helping me catalog my new estates?”

“What kind of child care?” asked Tonks. Hermione tilted her head towards Narcissa. “We couldn't impose like that.”

“Who is imposing?” protested Narcissa. “I accompany Hermione and her team to the estates. Teddy assists me with looking over the housekeeping while Remus keeps Hermione from vanishing into the stacks.”

“Cissy, are you sure?” Andromeda asked.

“This will give me the chance to help both of my nieces and have a small child to cherish. Which will decrease my pressure on Draco to hurry up and get married so he can give me grandchildren.”

Draco saluted Tonks with his glass, “I second this plan.”
Bellatrix regarded Hermione and Marcus, “I'm in no hurry to be a grandmother, take your time.”

“Narcissa will just borrow yours, too,” Ted joked causing Narcissa to clap her hands in delight, much to everyone's amusement.

“Sounds good to me,” Bellatrix shrugged.

“Can we get married first?” asked Hermione.

“If you insist,” Narcissa pretended to pout.

Rodolphus looked at them, “You can take your time with that part, too.”

“It'll happen when it happens,” shrugged Hermione.

Teddy whimpered when Hermione tried to leave to dress for the evening. She invited Tonks to come with her and bring the baby. Teddy lunged for her and chattered cheerfully as they went upstairs. “I don't know why he likes me so much.”

“No idea, I just roll with it. He's always been like that, little man likes who he likes. You'll be amused to know he likes Harry, but not Molly, Ron, or Ginny.” Tonks chuckled while slipping into her dress. “He adores the twins.”

“He has very good taste in people,” she complimented kissing his cheek.

Tonks finished fastening her dress, “His clinging will make this process difficult.”

“That is easily fixed. Bee, Maisie?” The small creatures popped in.

“How can Bee and Maisie be of service, mistress?” asked Maisie.

“Miss Dora and I need to prepare for tonight and Mr. Teddy here needs attention, too,” she bounced the baby who giggled. Maisie quickly took charge of him, playing with him on the bed.

Tonks closed her eyes and grew her hair three feet. The color lightened to the signature Malfoy platinum blonde. Teddy clapped his hands. “I just need this put up. I could mimic it already styled, but that takes concentration to maintain and can be rather tiring.” Happily, Bee coiffed her hair and applied makeup.

Teddy allowed Maisie to distract him with brightly colored illusions. He seemed completely fascinated with the house elf. He cheerfully left with them when Hermione and his mother were finished getting ready.

Tonks wore a white wolf mask paired with a white dress. Hermione giggled, “Please tell me Remus is dressed in red.”

“Sorry, I tried, he refused. He considered it until he realized why I suggested the color. Should have led him there slower. We're both wolves.”

“Bummer,” sighed Hermione.

“Do you and Marcus match?”

“No, he's just another black domino.”

“Remus will be so jealous,” Tonks laughed.

Glittering silver snowflakes danced across the room. Taking Marcus's arm, Hermione smiled as they began moving around the room. Once she confirmed Percy and Esme found one another, she relaxed and pulled Marcus to the dance floor. After several songs, she forced him to accompany her to check on his sister.

“Won't this accidentally give away her identity?” he complained.
“Percy knows she's my friend. He is smart enough to assume she will be friendly with my known boyfriend. Come on.”

The two had secluded themselves at a table on the edge of the room near the balcony doors. “Are you two just going to talk the night away?” she greeted them.

“Uh,” was all Percy could get out.

“Darlings,” cried Esme, jumping up to hug both Hermione and Marcus, “we've been discussing the newest regulations in cauldron bottoms. Rather impressive, really,” she smiled at Percy as she gushed.

“It is?” he asked confused.

“On the whole, not really, but all the work that goes into the decision is.”

“Not many people think of it that way,” admitted Percy.

“I may not understand all of it, but I like that you're invested in your work, even if you'd like to do something different someday.”

“Wow, thank you,” he blushed.

“That said, Hermione is right, we shouldn't just sit here all night. We can talk more tomorrow.” Percy's face fell at Esme's words. “Let's dance.” She took his hand and lead the bewildered young man away.

“Already wrapped around her little finger,” laughed Marcus.

“Because you aren't in the same state?” she quirked an eyebrow.

“I'm not wrapped around my sister's finger.”

“No, but you're wrapped around mine,” she teased.

Marcus pulled her close to him. “True,” he leaned closer to whisper in her ear, “and tonight I'll have you wrapped around some part of me.” He grinned as she fought to keep from blushing. “Want to get something to drink?”

“Yes.” They joined several of their friends for champagne and hors d'oeuvres near the edge of the dance floor. Knowing the costumes of your friends made it easier to locate them in the throng. She people watched with Luna as they ate, pointing out the more fantastical outfits as the revelers moved past them. Cassius drew their attention to Thorfinn Rowle. A lithe blonde in a stunning red dress and ruby studded mask simpered up at him. She dripped with jewels. “Wonder if she knows she's just the flavor of the month? Did I use that right?” he asked Hermione.

“You did,” she praised.

Adrian shrugged, “Do you think she knows she's one of five girls he's been parading around?”

“Is she really?” asked Vanessa.

“Possibly, hard to tell really. You only get a glimpse of the girl most of the time.”

Blaise studied the girl, “Good chance she's not Sacred Twenty-eight. Her manners show.” He caught sight of Hermione's glare. “Oi, I'm not one either. But I was taught how to act. So were you, just not amongst wizards. Not saying it is a bad thing, just that it shows. She doesn't move gracefully through the crowds as you do. I doubt she could command the crowds like you can, either. At a formal dinner that girl would be mocked mercilessly and eaten alive.”

“As much as I hate the snobbery, I can admit you are correct. She's missing the refinement. Doesn't mean she couldn't learn,” Hermione replied.

“Certainly, but I wouldn't bring someone I cared about around until she was ready and had been vetted by someone like Mrs. Malfoy.”

The girl in question giggled at Thorfinn, her eyes sparkling with emotions. “Maybe he doesn't care. She might not be a fling.” Luna said wistfully.

“She's a fling,” Cassius told her. At her annoyed look, “Pay attention next time someone approaches them.” Seconds later an older couple approached them. Thorfinn greeted them as did the young woman. They conversed a few minutes before the older couple moved on, approaching Hermione and her group.

“Well, hello there,” the man said in a jovial voice.

“Good evening, Mr. Burke, Mrs. Burke,” Marcus shook the man's hand and kissed the back of his wife's hand, making her swat at
him. “Have you met Hermione Lestrange? Hermione, this is Balthazar and Hortenisa Burke. Their son now runs their old shop on Knockturn.”

“A pleasure to make you acquaintance, my dear. We've heard such lovely things.” Burke smiled at her in a grandfatherly manner.
“Likewise,” Hermione demurred.

Cassius then introduced Vanessa and Alexandria. Graham took Luna's hand and gave her a warm smile, “And this is my fiance, Luna Lovegood.”

“Xeno and Pandora's little girl!” exclaimed Hortensia. “You look just like your mother, sweet girl. I was devastated when she passed. Please forgive me for forgetting you in my pain. Pandora was a dear friend. And when I came out of it so much time had passed it seemed impossible to make contact.”

Luna gave her a shy smile, “There is nothing to forgive. We can connect now. It would be nice to hear things Daddy might not know.”

“I insist, darling. I will owl you.”

“I look forward to it.”

When the Burkes departed Cassius turned to Luna, “Did you see the difference?”

“He didn't introduce her,” Luna looked confused, “Why?”

“She isn't important, or rather, she won't be a permanent figure in his life. It is a subtle clue that you are not courting or dating the person. Unless you are part of the group or she's unattached and you refer to her as your good friend.”

At her distressed face, Graham caressed her cheek, “You don't have to worry, that will never be you, angel.”

“Can I still feel bad for her?”

“If that's what you want to do.”

The notes of a waltz wafted overhead, Marcus turned to Hermione, offering his hand, “Shall we dance, little dove?”

“Trying to make the rest of us look bad, Flint?” asked Cassius.

“You don't need my help with that. But I'm taking advantage of the fact that none of them know who she is and keep coming over to steal her.”

“Spoke too soon,” Remus held out his hand to Hermione, “May I steal you for a dance? Ted stole my wife.”

She patted Marcus's shoulder, “I'll be right back. If I can find you, that is.”

“I'll find you, love,” he promised.

Remus escorted her to the dance floor. “Enjoying the evening?”

“I am, are you?”

“More than I thought I ever would. The Malfoys are gracious hosts.”

“They are. You know Narcissa meant what she said about watching Teddy while we work.”

“Hermione, intellectuals the world over will be fighting to join you,” Remus protested.

“And? I owe them nothing. I have a very short list of people I want to work with.”

“Who else?”

“Peregrine Bole, that way he can keep Corbin Yaxley updated. Orene MacGregor, and Thorfinn Rowle. He'll be a help with the Ministries. He works for International Cooperation.”

“No historians of note, then?”

“Why should I make their careers? What have they done for me?” Remus stopped dancing for a moment in shock. “I didn't create their world, but they will live in it until I finish changing it. I might not be killing people in the streets, but the adults allowed the abuses of power that controlled and traumatized me. They get nothing from me for free.”

“Mione, by that logic you shouldn't be paying me to help you.”

“Remus,” she interrupted, “when I was fourteen and burning the candle at both ends you were kind and understanding. You taught me to defend myself. After that year, you answered every swotty question with references and information, without the attitude every other adult in my life took at some point. Looking back, those attitudes hurt even worse than they did at the time. I will always wonder how much was my own desire to understand, and how much was the spell's control. Furthermore, at the time even if you had known you could have done nothing about it. The Great Albus Dumbledore was worshiped for stopping his former best friend and lover from destroying the world. He never should have been granted that much power, but he was. They made this world, they don't get to cry foul because they didn't get their way. Now, this is a party, start acting like it.”

“I like it better before when you only bossed around Harry and Ron.”

“I am sure Molly Weasley shares your feelings.”

“Low blow.” She simply blew him a kiss.

Closer to midnight Luna asked Hermione about the muggle tradition of kissing someone at midnight. “Well, some people kiss friends for good luck, while couples do it because of the idea that whatever you're doing at midnight is what you'll spend the next year doing.”

“I have some ideas there,” Adrian smirked.

“Continue to be pathetically alone?” quipped Cassius.

“I have plenty of company thank you.”

“Just none you can bring to these events,” sassed Vanessa.

Adrian recoiled like she had slapped him, “Merlin, no! Could you imagine?”

Hermione chuckled, “Adrian, no one can see how gorgeous I am with this mask on,” she whined in a falsetto voice.

Alexandria jumped onboard, “Adrian, the decor clashes with my dress, make them change it.”

“I know the worst,” Graham laughed, “Adrian, the hostess is getting all the attention, kill her,” he demanded in a fake voice.

“You all think you're joking. I can see it all so clearly. I need a drink.” He clapped Marcus on the shoulder and wandered off in search of said drink.

At ten minutes to midnight, house elves circulated with champagne flutes. Lucius toasted to a bright new year. Marcus hugged Hermione tightly. “May this new year end as it began, you and me, here, together.” She nodded, clinking her glass with his and drinking to both toasts. She met his lips in a chaste midnight kiss. She happily noted Esme and Percy removing the masks and making plans to meet the next day after they introduced themselves.

“Be sure to let your sister know we're willing to go on double dates.”

Marcus frowned, “We are?”

“We are.” she asserted firmly.

On New Year's Day, the Ministry hosted a late morning event to pat themselves on the back about the last year and make promises for the new. Minister Pius Thicknesse spoke of healing and reunification of the wizarding world. Yaxley whispered to Rodolphus, “He makes a good puppet, don't you think?”

“At least until someone in the ranks is ready for leadership.” They both looked over towards the tight group of the next generation who were pretending to pay attention to the speeches. “He has his eye on several possibilities.”

“Indeed, who doesn't?

Hermione amused herself by watching Esme and Percy making eyes at one another. He wasn't even pretending to listen to the minister. They were so adorable. She hung on his every word. Marcus reported Esme had summoned Percy around nine and the two had been attached at the hip since. “He's Sacred Twenty-eight, so Father's pleased. Esme clearly adores him, so Mother's seething. All in all good work.” Marcus laughed.

Hermione swatted him, “Be nice to your mother.”

“Why? She's not nice to anyone.” Hermione shot him a look. "What? She's not."

Chapter Text

Chapter 31 It All Hits the Fan

Attending the Malfoy Masked Ball with Thorfinn might have been the most magical night of her life. It had been leaps better than the Yule Ball with Neville. Since her mask changed her hair to a sophisticated blonde updo, no one even suspected little Ginny Weasley had breached their walls. She couldn't stop grinning, it had been magical. Rowle insisted on leaving early for their own more private celebration. Ginny deflated slightly, Harry had been feeling ill more often than not lately. She needed to step things back up with him. She knew she had been neglecting him as of late, but her new romance was more exciting than stolen exchanges hidden away in the shadows. Rowle took her shopping at exclusive shops, to posh restaurants that ensured privacy, and all the exciting hanky panky one could get up to with said privacy.

Some day all of this would be a distant memory. She would be a housewife managing the house elves and popping out a kid every so often to ensure her meal ticket continued. Not as many as her mother, perhaps, but more than one. The family Harry desperately wanted. But when she felt old, she could pull out these exciting memories and feel young again. But before that could happen she needed to land her husband. While Harry hadn't seemed interested in her, he hadn't seemed interested in anyone else either. If this illness was related to Voldemort it might be better for her to get pregnant, his child could claim Harry's estate, the Potter fortunes and the Blacks. She had her future to consider.

Harry felt feverish, he hadn't felt well in months. Often he felt weak and dizzy. He hadn't felt well in months. His thoughts felt fuzzy. Sometimes he loved Ron and Ginny, other times he hated them. And he was always aroused, sometimes painfully so. But he lacked the energy to perform properly most of the time. Not that either lover seemed to care. Scratching the itch felt better and lasted longer with a partner. If neither partner minded the brevity of the act or lack of enthusiasm, why should he? A few moments of squishy movements then blessed relief for at least twenty-four hours.

Harry groaned and rolled over using the momentum to sit up. Molly would have breakfast ready soon, food helped soothe him most of the time. He stumbled downstairs towards the delicious beckoning aromas wafting from the kitchen. He slid into the seat next to Ginny and rested his forehead against the cool wood of the tabletop. “Too much celebration last night, sweetie?” Ginny asked handing him a glass of pumpkin juice. She winked playfully at him.

“Something like that,” he sipped the pumpkin juice. It tasted off, but everything did lately. Molly placed a plate of food in front of Harry. He began eating, feeling better as he filled his stomach.

Ginny picked up the morning newspaper. She couldn't help herself, she flipped to the gossip columns to see if any of them mentioned Thorfinn Rowle's mystery woman. She didn't want to deal with the fallout from her family being identified would bring, but she would enjoy a little speculation. She scowled at the paper. Not a single mention of her resplendent gown. But plenty about the radiant Hermione Lestrange. Circe's tit she hated that name. It sounded so pretentious. Everywhere she went someone was singing the witch's praises. Like they did with the other Hermione she knew.

In the back of her mind, a small voice admitted she was misplacing her annoyance with Rowle for refusing to introduce her to anyone of note. Sugar babies got to go places not make friends apparently. Ron snatched the paper from her. “Hey! What's got your knickers in a twist?”

He read the article again before exploding in a rage, “That whore! How dare she consort with the enemy?”

“What?” asked Ginny.

“RON!” Harry yelled after him as the redhead burst from the house and headed for the Lovegoods.

Molly picked up the discarded paper, “'Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood and Mr. and Mrs. Thaddeus Montague announce the engagement of their children Luna Odette Lovegood and Graham Thaddeus Montague. A winter wedding is expected.' Oh, that foolish man, tying his child to Death Eaters.”

Harry leapt to his feet and took off after Ron. Once clear of the house, he apparated as far as he could towards the Rookery to make up for lost time. He landed on the front steps. Behind him, he could see Ron breaking through the trees bordering the property. “Treacherous whore! Come out here and answer for yourself!” he roared.

“Ron, Luna doesn't answer to us,” Harry protested, making soothing motions at Ron.

“She's supposed to be one of us. She's supposed to do as she's told.” Harry kept Ron from pushing past him as Luna opened the front door.

“Harry? Ron, what?” Luna looked about from the open door.

“How could you betray us, slag?” spit from Ron's mouth.

Luna took a step back into the house, “Why are you so angry? You never liked me anyway.”

“You're a Death Eater's whore! You are fucking the enemy.” Ron bellowed.

“Ron, calm down,” Harry pleaded, moving in front of the door and Luna.

Several things happened at once. Luna clutched the snowflake charm around her neck. Ron slammed into Harry forcing Luna to grab Harry as he fell back into her as she said, “Sanctuary.” Ginny's stunning spell missed Ron and hit Harry, and Ron fired off a spell. The energy of the spell was pulled into the portkey vortex.

-oOoOo-

Rabastan invited several of the next generation to Lestrange Hall after the Ministry event to discuss the coming changes and Voldemort's expectations of his followers. They entered the front hall discussing the various ministry officials that might need replacing sooner rather than later. Hermione froze, “Luna.” She took off running, her feet barely touching the stairs.

When she hit the carpeting, Luna released Harry, who slumped to the floor. The spell slammed into the wall behind them cracking a picture frame. The pieces crashed to the floor.

The door flew open, Hermione, Graham, and Marcus rushed in, Rodolphus and Rabastan right behind them. “Luna,” cried Hermione, “what happened?”

“Ron showed up screaming about how I betrayed them and was a slag. Harry tried to defend me when Ron attacked.” Marcus looked at Graham who nodded. In unison, they turned and collected Peregrine as they exited.

“Are you okay?” Rabastan knelt next to Luna, while Hermione and Rodolphus looked over Harry.

“Yes, just shaken. I thought I had seen the worst of Ron's temper. He was out of control.”

Harry stirred, “Luna?”

“I'm okay, Harry. We're safe, we're with friends.”

“Good, good,” Harry slumped back down.

“He looks rather rough,” Rodolphus noted.

“Can you summon a discrete healer? He's still wanted for questioning.”

“You're not suggesting we keep this from the Dark Lord?” Rodolphus looked conflicted.

“Of course not, but he may not want everyone and their brother to know.” She looked over at Luna. “A healer for both of them first, notify Lord Voldemort second.”

“MacLellan's a healer, “Cassius offered from the doorway.” He's downstairs.”

“Get him,” Rodolphus. “I will summon him.”

Rabastan helped Luna to stand, “Let's give you a calming draught.”

-oOoOo-

They landed just outside the front door of the tower. A man and woman could be heard shouting not far away. Peregrine rapidly disguised their features. “Don't want them flipping the script on us.” They followed the voices to the trees marking the property lines.

“Come on, Ron, if Luna is in cahoots with Death Eaters they'll be here any minute,” pleaded Ginny.

“No, we need to follow that portkey and punish her.”

“For what? Getting engaged? Not a crime. And being a Slytherin doesn't equal Death Eater or evil.” She yanked him along. “Mum will die if you get yourself killed over this.”

“She needs to be stopped. She's evil now, we can't ignore her disobedience.” The redhead froze, “Oh fuck! She took Harry with her.” They stared at each other in horror. They ran back to the Burrow.

Graham moved to follow, but Marcus grabbed him. “I'll let you pound the ginger git later. Hell, I'll hold him for you. But we need to report this. Luna is safe. But the Order knowing we have Potter will make them act.”

With a growl, Graham jerked his arm out of Marcus's grip. “Damnit, you're right.” They returned to Lestrange Hall. Graham immediately sought out his fiancee.

Marcus and Peregrine joined the Lestranges and Voldemort waiting in the study. Peregrine reported the overheard conversation. Voldemort looked at Hermione. She pursed her lips, “They'll gather the ranks and start looking. I'll try to contact one of the twins as soon as we have a plan.”

“We do have a plan, per your demands.” Voldemort reminded her.

Rabastan looked at her in confusion, “Despite my annoyance, he deserves to know the truth and make his own choices, free from machinations. He'll want time to think. We'll have to keep him hidden.”

“While I would suggest guards, I would exclude dungeons,” Rabastan remarked. “We need to be the good guys here.” Hermione nodded in agreement.

Voldemort looked at Peregrine, “Contact Avery, instruct him to arrange for guards.” He turned to Rabastan, “You will have to reschedule your informal meeting with a formal one.”

“So it would seem, my lord.”

MacLellan came downstairs shaking his head, “For members of the self-proclaimed light side, they use a lot of manipulation potions and charms. Lad's got charms to make him more susceptible to suggestions from certain people, and suspicious of others. He's been given two different love potions and lust powder or potions for quite some time. I removed the charms and started purging his system. A full detox will take about a day. He'll be rather weak for a bit. He's unconscious but stable right now.”

Voldemort nodded, “Go call in for the next week and pack a bag. Wherever we send Potter, you go until he's healthy.”

“Yes, sir,” he raced off to comply.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Hermione swore.

“Careful,” teased Voldemort, “your Irish muggle is showing.”

“I wish I could say I cannot believe this, but Molly once admitted to us she potioned Arthur to get his attention. Her youngest two would see no issues with taking the easy path,” she frowned.

“The twins' shop sells love potions,” pointed out Marcus.

“Yes, but they cause glaringly obvious symptoms and last for about an hour to an hour and a half. I don't particularly like them, but they aren't at a level where one needs a permit to sell them.”

“The real conversation we need to be having is where to house him while he recovers.” Voldemort refocused their attention on the issue at hand.

“It should be somewhere he'll feel safe, and not obvious to the Order.” Rodolphus mused.

“Most followers would be willing to host someone for me,” Voldemort said, “Still who would they least suspect?”

“Is there anyone that could be put under Fidelus charm and not be noticed?” questioned Rabastan.

They sat in silence, pondering the conundrum before Marcus looked at Hermione, “Does anyone in the Order know where your parents lived?”

“Only Professor McGonagall, she brought my letter. Why?” She scrunched up her face.”Oh, oh, that is brilliant.” Marcus beamed at her praise as she leapt forward and kissed him soundly.

“What is brilliant?” asked Rodolphus, ignoring Hermione's display.

“My childhood home is at the end of the road. It is already on Notice Me Not charms and Muggle repelling charms. Have Snape alter the records and modify McGongagall's memories. We wouldn't even need the Fidelus charm.”

Voldemort considered it, “None of them would believe we would use a muggle residence. You would allow guards?”

“Reserving the right to refuse or revoke access, yes. Though while they are staying there, so will I.”

“I'll send Varl to help Maisie,” Rodolphus told her.

Voldemort nodded, “I'm certain Lucius would spare Bee to assist her beloved Missy Hermy.”

“I'm sure,” Hermione laughed. “I'm headed to the house to set the house up for guests.”

“We shall gather volunteers for guard duty. Let Rodolphus know when you are ready,” Voldemort ordered.

At No 6 Courtenay Ave, Hermione moved through the house casting protection spells on family heirlooms. She removed her personal items from her childhood room. Then moved further into the room to her reading nook. The nook was nearly a separate room at the back of her bedroom. Built-in bookcases covered the hexagonal walls. The long rectangle windows reached from the top of the bookcases to the crown molding. While they let light in, they did not open. It would be the ideal area to put Harry and his healer. She transfigured two large wing chairs into a bed and bedding.

Next, she moved into the master bedroom, “Time to take over the master suite,” she told herself. She removed the personal items she did not wish to keep and replaced them with her own. She looked about with a touch of melancholy.

Maisie popped in, “Why is mistress doing Maisie's work?”

“I am not, I promise. I was finishing a personal task. I was just about to call you. Would you please change all the sheets? And prepare the guest rooms?”

“Right away, mistress.”

In the kitchen, Varl began stocking the pantries. Hermione explained the fridge and appliances. “I will make sures Maisie and Bee understands.”

“Thank you, Varl,” Hermione smiled at him. “And do not let the visiting wizards be rude to you.”

“Yes, Missy Hermy.”

Content with the preparations, Hermione returned to Lestrange Hall. “My old room is ready for Harry and MacKellan, you can go ahead and move him.”

A smokey hyena loped into the room. “We need to talk, Mione.” George's voice came out of his mouth. “Shop ten minutes.”

“Go we will finalize the arrangements when you return.” Voldemort nodded to her.

Hermione slipped on a disguise, just in case the twins weren't alone. She hurried into Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. “George? Fred? Are you here?”

“We're in the back,” one of the twins replied. She slipped through the curtains into the stockroom. “Oi, who's...” The speaker stopped when her disguise fell.

“Wotcher, Hermione,” Tonks greeted her quietly.

“Only you and George?”

“Remus and Fred are out searching for Harry. What happened?”

“You tell me what you know because I don't know much.”

George sighed, “Gin said she was reading the paper when Ron lost the plot. Started yelling about Luna betraying them and being a whore. When he stormed over there Harry chased him and tried to stop him. Ron says Harry collapsed and Luna grabbed him and used a portkey before Ron could stop her.”

“Ugh, Ron, why are you so dim-witted? He saw Luna and Graham's engagement announcement.”

“Which he would see as a betrayal,” George admitted.

“Luna says Ron threw curses, one of which hit Harry. Harry collapsed into her when she activated her emergency portkey. Since she was holding onto him he came with her.”

“How is she? How is he?” asked Tonks.

“ Luna says she's fine, but shaken. She's never seen Ron in a true strop. Harry will be okay. He collapsed because he's been dosed with multiple love potions and lust compounds. Very potent ones. The potions were keyed to two different people. For quite some time.”

“Who?” demanded George.

“Guessing here, but Ron and Ginny. I know he had something going on with Ron. That's why I left,” she whispered the last part.

“Oh, wow,” responded George, his voice soft, “Mione...”

“Nope, it's the past and not your fault. Harry is safe and hidden while he recovers. Once he's strong enough I will tell him everything and he makes his own decisions. Let the Order keep looking. We're in a holding pattern until then.”

“What about Ron attacking Luna?” asked Tonks. “Would it be better if she made a report? Or let Ron live in fear of retaliation?”

“I feel like that needs to be Luna's decision. She was the one attacked.”

“Can we go back to why you left?” George asked. “Why didn't you tell us?”

“Until an hour ago I thought they were a couple with mutual natural feelings. Outting them would be sharing a secret that wasn't mine to tell.”

“I suppose I understand and respect that.”

“Thank you, I suppose. I'm going to check on Luna, and let you all get back out there. If Luna wants to make a report I will have her contact you.”

“Sounds good. Molly will be on the warpath if we don't protect her baby. Even though what he did was illegal and uncivilized,” Tonks grumbled.

“And hypocritical, can you imagine if someone attacked her children in such an unprovoked manner?” Hermione looked at George.

“Well, Ginny and Ron anyway,” he admitted. They made their farewells and returned to their assigned tasks.

Deciding to treat Luna, Hermione popped into muggle London for Dim Sum and egg rolls, Luna's favorites. She returned to Lestrange Hall to talk to her best friend. “I come bearing gifts.” She handed over the food.

Luna looked in the bag, “Do I get my favorite because Ron is an arse that attacked me, or because you want something?”

“So cynical. I would never be so insulting as to attempt to bribe you. You get your favorites because I love you. And Ron can be a monster. If you want to make a report, we'll make a report.” Hermione paused, “We'll plan it out to cover all the bases, but that is only to protect you and our allies. The choice is yours.”

Luna nibbled on a dumpling while she thought. “The report might make me feel better for a minute. But if something came of it, it could compromise Tonks and Shacklebolt. And I don't want that.”

“If you make the report to Tonks she can 'fix it' like Molly would expect.”

“How dare Ron face the full consequences of his actions,” Luna groused.

“Right?”

“What would I say about Harry?” Luna questioned nervously chewing on a lock of hair.

“You landed hard because of the second hex, when you came to he was gone. You have no idea where he is.”

“Which is technically true,” Luna's lips tipped up in a tiny smile.

Graham's frown deepened, and he slammed his fist on the arm of the couch, startling Luna, “Damnit!”

“What's wrong?” Luna cried.

“I cannot believe I am suggesting this, and if we go this route you and your father will be staying away from the Rookery for a while, but it might be best if you told one of safer Weasleys you won't press charges this time. I don't have the Mark. You understand the stress of the last year is getting to everyone. You're going to him one last chance.” Graham told her.

“He's still going to lose the plot over all of this,” protested Luna.

“You're not telling him, you're telling Bill, or Fleur, at Gringotts,” Hermione told her.

Luna nodded, “I can do that.” She looked at Graham, “You'll come with me?”

“Of course.” He kissed her softly.

Luna turned back to Hermione, “How is Harry?”

“Really sick. We think are both Ron and Ginny were feeding him strong love and lust potions, which have been interacting with each other. He'll recover. Then I'll tell him everything and he can talk to Voldemort, or not.”

“If he chooses the Order and to fight?” Luna asked in a sad little voice.

“We all had the same information and chances. You and I picked our side. He doesn't have to join the Death Eaters to end the war. He gets to pick his path with all the information. If he decides that's what he needs to do, so be it.”

Luna sighed, “I suppose that's fair.”

Hermione hugged her friend, “I want him to join your neutrality, too. I have to go. Owl Roddy if you need me. Owls won't be able to get into the safe house.”

“I will. Be careful.”

“Don't worry, no one will find this place.”

“I'm still going to worry. I've never seen Ron so out of control. He raved about betrayal and how I needed to obey. I love you. I worry what happens when he finds you and you don't obey him.”

“I am more than a match for Ronald Bilius Weasley. Moreover, I am ready for him.” She hugged Luna again, “But I promise to be careful, I promise.”

“You had better.”

Hermione stopped by her room and collected some essentials and her familiars. “What are we doing, little witch?” Rabastan inquired leaning against the wall.

“If you think those goons are getting free run of my house you have another thing coming. I said I was staying, too. And we don't need them offing Harry before Voldemort questions him.”

Rabastan frowned, “Hermione.”

“Don't you 'Hermione' me. I am capable of defending myself. Also, I can harm them, but they can't touch me. Even if that wasn't the case, I am not the damsel in distress type.”

“I still don't like it, and neither will Rod.”

“Don't care,” she singsonged, “still going.”

“Not alone,” she looked up and saw Voldemort in the doorway, “someone needs to protect my followers from that delightful violent streak of yours.” She laughed. “I insisted at least one of your friends accompany you. Unsurprising, Mr. Flint has volunteered his evenings.”

“Hopefully this doesn't go on too long,” she sighed.

“Indeed. Mr. Flint awaits you downstairs with this evening's guards.”

She met them in the foyer. “House rules are simple, don't touch anything you don't understand how it works, and be polite to my elves or I will be very impolite to you.” Alecto and Amycus Carrow, Felix Rosier, and Derrick Vaisey nodded their understanding and departed silently.

Thirty six hours and one exploded toaster later Harry woke up.

Chapter Text

Chapter 32 Crossroads

Thirty-six hours and one exploded toaster later Harry woke up. Amycus had taunted his sister about her muggle studies class. In response, Alecto attempted to demonstrate its use. The death glare and flashes of energy rippling through Hermione's hair had been frightening enough, then she informed them next time she was telling Rodolphus, and if he didn't care she would tell Voldemort. No one wanted to call her bluff. They kept away from any appliances after that.

MacLellan summoned her after examining Harry. “He's disoriented, which I expected given the trauma his body has been through. Stay with him, I need to go report in.”

She nodded and slid into the chair next to the bed. The dark-haired man groaned. “Hey, Harry. How are you feeling?” she asked softly.

“Like I was run over by a bus, Mione. Did you get the numbers?”

“No, because it wasn't a bus.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Suddenly realization hit him, he surged upright, “Hermione! You're alive.”

Gently, she pushed him back down, “I am. You need to rest.”

“What happened to you? You just vanished.”

“I did,” she agreed.

“Why?”

“I saw something that broke my heart. Which lead me down a path to even worse discoveries.”

“Me and Ron,” whispered Harry.

“Ron and I,” Hermione corrected automatically. They both laughed.

Harry shifted on the mattress, “I always wanted to tell you. But Ron said no one would understand. That homosexuality is frowned upon in the wizarding world. And I wanted to keep him happy.” He shook his head, “Saying it out loud now sounds so stupid.”

“When did you get together?”

“Beginning of 5th year. He dated Lavender to keep up appearances.”

“Just to you know, I would have understood. You were my friends. I want you to be happy.”

“I should have ignored Ron and trusted you.”

“Yes, you should have, but it led to some discoveries we deserve to know.”

“What?”

“Not tonight. Tonight you need to rest. So, you get a bedtime story about what happened after I left you.”

“Mione, I'm sorry about everything.”

“I know. You could have at least been considerate enough to use your own damn cots. Now, hush. After I saw you, I blanked, no thoughts, no plans, nothing.

“I ran off into the rain and after exhausting myself, decided to do something reckless. I was done with the wizarding world, you all could kill yourselves for all I cared. I wanted a complete education to properly protect myself from dark magic.” She took a deep breath. “So, I wrote Voldemort and proposed a game of hide-and-seek. I won. I am safe from harm, now.”

“You can't trust that, Hermione. They lie.”

“No, Harry, Voldemort's acceptance of our little game sealed a vow. He, nor his followers, can harm me, or allow me to come to harm by inaction. He loses his magic.”

“Oh,” Harry's awe colored his tone.

“Yes, oh. After I won Voldemort helped me take my NEWTS. Then he and his followers began teaching me anything I wanted to know. At first, I stayed at Malfoy Manor. Now I'm at Lestrange Hall.”

“Is that where we are?” asked Harry.

“No, we're at an undisclosed safe house.”

“Why?”

“Voldemort wants you kept safe while you recover.”

“He wants me healthy when he kills me?” Harry spat out bitterly.
“No, he wants you to be as close to a sound mind as possible to discuss the matters between you. He wants to end the stalemate. His ambassadors have been meeting with willing Order members.”

“And they believe him?”

She shrugged, “He's met all my demands.”

“He's faking it to get you to join him.”

“No, he's making decisions based on all the information available. He has never lied about his desire for my help. But he's gone out of his way to avoid manipulating me.”

“What did he offer you?” Harry asked sadly.

“Later, that's part of the conversation you need to be stronger for. Where was I? Ah, yes, Marcus Flint renewed our friendship and things are progressing there. I've made friends. The Lestranges adopted me.”

“You're an adult,” protested Harry.

“They performed a ritual that made it like I was born to them, as well as my parents. Quite complex magic.”

“What about Luna?”

“In true Luna fashion, she saw through my glamours. She decided then she was on my side regardless of which side I chose.”

“Your side?” Harry sneered.

“Watch it. Yes, my side. I don't agree with everything, but I am trying to help change what I can. And if he tries to reinstate a reign of terror and death. I have a contingency plan. No, I will not share it with you.” She held up a hand to silence him. “I made the choices that were right for me. I don't regret any of them. Right now comfort yourself with the knowledge I am happy. You don't understand and you won't for a few more days.”

A soft rap at the door distracted them. MacLellan entered, “Still awake? Good. Hello, Mr. Potter, my name is Aiden MacLellan. I am a healer with St. Mungo's. I have a few potions I want you to take. However, you have a choice. One schedule is gentler on your body but will take longer. The other is harder on the body, but works faster.”

“Do I need to finish the potions to have the next conversation?” Harry asked Hermione.

“Yes.”

“The shorter route, please.”

MacLellan raised an eyebrow and looked at Hermione. She nodded. “Alright then, let's do this.” He handed Harry three vials.

“Bottoms up,” he downed the liquids in rapid succession. Soon he heaved into the wastebasket.

“I'll arrange for some tea and broth,” Hermione whispered to the healer. “Are you hungry?” He shook his head.

It took three days for all traces of manipulation charms and potions to be gone. Hermione arranged for access to Dumbledore's portrait and to see Minerva McGonagall. The deputy headmistress was the last person on Hermione's list. Snape promised to prep and trap Dumbledore and make himself scarce. His history with Harry was messy and complicated. His presence would make an already difficult conversation worse.

Hermione requested the guards be ones that knew her story. Rabastan, Rodolphus, Marcus, Adrian, and Cassius volunteered instantly. Varl when above and beyond creating an elaborate buffet for breakfast. Once everyone served themselves and sat around the table, Hermione repeated her story for Harry. She finished with, “He placed charms on a lot of people, including you. He made you predisposed to trust certain people and dislike others. Healer MacLellan found these charms and some potions in your system.”

“What potions?” Harry asked.

“Two different, and very potent, love potions. And compounds designed to heighten arousal.”

“Keyed to Ron and Ginny, right?” Harry guessed calmly.

“Yes,” Hermione answered just as calmly.

“Huh, that explains quite a bit.” He resumed eating.

“You are taking this better than I would have,” Adrian admitted.
Harry shrugged, “I think I might still be in shock. It's not that I don't believe Hermione, it just hasn't sunk in yet.” He took another bite. “And still not the worst thing that's happened.” He looked at Rodolphus. “Her new mom killed my last family member.”

“While I accept the first part, I argue the second. Your father had many relatives. And your mother had a magical ancestry.” Rodolphus argued. “You have a family.”

“It isn't easy to forgive, and you don't have to forget,” Hermione assured him.

Harry finished eating, “I'm ready when you are.”

She stood, “Let's go.” She looked at the rest, “See you lot later.”

“Date tonight?” Marcus grinned at her.

“Something. No idea how today will go.”

“Let me know when you get back.”

She kissed his cheek, “Of course. Love you.”

He grinned at her foolishly, “Love you, too.” They ignored Adrian's snickering and Rodolphus's glare.

Together the pair apparated to the gates. Snape allowed them onto the grounds. They walked through the castle in awkward silence. Snape opened his office for them, allowing them to enter without him.

Albus Dumbledore stopped pushing against his frame when he caught sight of them entering. He slumped a bit. “Harry, my boy! Miss Granger, you've realized the error of your ways. Wonderful!”

“Not quite. I felt Harry needed to hear some truths directly from your mouth.”

“Truths?” questioned Dumbledore.

“Like why didn't Sirius get a trial, Albus?”

The image struggled to remain silent, then blurted out, “Sirius would never let me sacrifice Harry to destroy the Horcrux in him. I needed to groom him for the greater good.”

“Did you know Peter Pettigrew was the secret keeper for the Potters?”

“I did.”

“Did Lily and James have to die? Were you okay with their deaths?”

“No, but it gave me control over Harry, and that was acceptable.”

“Did you have Snape tell Bellatrix the Longbottoms knew about Voldemort's whereabouts?” She smirked.

Dumbledore glared at her, “I did.”

“Why?”

“They disagreed with some of my decisions and were going to side with the Death Eaters in the Wizenmagot.”

Harry broke from his horrified stupor, “Why?”

“The greater good, my boy,” Dumbledore twinkled down at him.

“Why did you charm Hermione?” Harry demanded.

“To help you. She's highly intelligent and powerful.”

“Could have been more powerful if you hadn't bound me,” she snorted. “The legacy was their hidden research.”

Harry resumed his interrogation before Dumbledore could respond to Hermione. “Did you know Ron was feeding me love potions?”

“Given Molly's history, I suspected it.”

“Why didn't you stop him?”

“You both seemed happy and it kept him content and involved. He could be used to help control Miss Granger.”

“Miss Lestrange,” she interrupted.

“She managed to convince herself the order to be friends and take care of Ron was a romantic impulse. He could keep her invested.”

“YOU DID WHAT?” Both Hermione and Harry jumped as Professor McGonagall raged into the room. “Albus Dumbledore! How could you?”

“The greater good demands sacrifices, Minnie. Calm yourself, there's a good girl.”

“Don't mind him, he's been treated with a truth-telling varnish,” Hermione told her.

McGonagall stared at her in fascinated horror. Merrily, Hermione guided Dumbledore on a macabre question and answer session to reveal everything he knew and did, bringing McGonagall and Harry up to speed. The Scottish woman looked murderous. “Headmaster Snape pointed out we might need him for information he managed to hoard from us.” The older woman looked at her. “I wanted to burn his portrait after my first conversation with him.”

“Miss Granger, I cannot even begin to imagine the hardship and horror you have gone through. I am so sorry I did not see what was going on and step in.”

“I appreciate the thought, but Dumbledore ensured his actions would be protected under your oaths to the headmaster.” Hermione patted McGonagall's hands.

“Does Severus know of this?”

“He does,” Hermione nodded.

“That explains his mentioning of reworking those vows. Surely he suffered for all this as well.”

Harry spoke up, “Please start screening students for charms and potions.”

“And stop the bullying, especially the inner house bullying. Our houses are supposed to be our homes. Our family shouldn't bully us.”

“Agreed,” Harry said.

“Also a wizarding studies class for muggleborns would help, and a well taught muggles studies class. Taught by someone who grew up there and still visits.”

“Looking for a teaching post, Miss Lestrange?” asked Professor Snape. “My apologies, the wards alerted me of Minerva's arrival.”

“Lestrange?” McGonagall stared at her.

“Yes, Lestrange. Rodolphus adopted me, well Bellatrix as well.” She turned to Snape, “I have no interest in teaching the masses. I would hex someone in the first week. I do have suggestions if you're open to the idea.”

“Of course you do,” Snape replied in a fond voice, while still rolling his eyes.

“It would be rude of me to say do this and not help make arrangements,” she teased.

“And your thoughts are?” Snape inquired.

“Teach muggleborns how the wizarding world works: government, money, interactions with sentient beings, sports, and social norms. Teach wizards how muggles live without magic: technology, art, and entertainment.”

“And instructors?”

“Ted Tonks always wanted to be a teacher. Andromeda could be a backup for Madame Pomfrey, and her successor when she's ready to retire. He still visits the muggle world frequently. For the other class, Percy Weasley. He's wasted in the ministry. He knows the etiquette and the ins and outs.”

“I shall discuss this with the board,” Snape promised.

“That's all I ask.” Harry snorted. “I am aware I can and have asked for more, I was being polite and tactful,” she smacked him. “Thank you, professors. We should be going.” She took Harry's hand.

Back at her house, she hugged Harry, “Do you want to be left alone to think, or do you want to think in company?”

“Alone, please.”

“Okay, if you need anything, including food, call for Bee or Maisie.”

“I will,” he promised. He put his foot on the first step. “Thanks, Mione, for everything.”

“You're welcome.”

To distract herself from overthinking and fretting, Hermione held a movie marathon for the evening guards. Something none of them minded in the least.

Harry paced around his bedroom, putting the events in order and looking at them through a new filter. He kept coming back to the fact that while the Death Eaters committed the acts, Dumbledore often set the events in motion or complicated matters. And he saw nothing wrong with manipulation if it got him what he wanted. The Longbottoms didn't agree with him, so he arranged for them to be removed. Bellatrix and Couch may have performed the act, but Dumbledore manipulated Augusta into betraying her family numerous times. He made Remus into an unquestioning flunkie, willing to die for Dumbledore's cause. His poorly thought out cause. It failed before and Dumbledore simply repeated it. Shacklebolt and Tonks could have been fired. As died before telling her, Harry assumed he never intended to let Hermione discover her ancestry She implied important knowledge would have been lost. All because Albus Dumbledore didn't know how it would benefit him. So he denied her of it. Then he made her into a walking reference tool for Harry.

He didn't understand why Molly and Ron wanted Hermione to date Ron. Harry sighed, he assumed she knew. Once presented with a mystery, it wasn't in her nature to leave it unsolved. She knew the reason, and Harry suspected he wasn't going to like it. She had made Dumbledore confess he knew what the obedience charms would do and he used them anyway, repeatedly. He decided he needed to ask.

He exited the bedroom and went in search of Hermione. Laughter led him to a large room with several couches in front of a giant television. Hermione sat cuddled up with Flint. He thought he recognized the other two as Slytherins around Flint's age. They lounged on the couches watching old Looney Tunes cartoons, laughing at the antics of Daffy, Bugs, and Elmer Fudd. Harry stood in the doorway watching his best friend laugh her head off. He couldn't remember the last time he saw her relax like this.

He couldn't hear what was said, but Flint retaliated by tickling her into submission. They ended up laid out on the couch, Flint hovering above her. Instead of admitting defeat, Hermione leaned up and licked his cheek, distracting him. Taking advantage of his inattention, Hermione shoved upward, flipping him off of her and the couch. He landed on the floor, causing even more laughter. Hermione popped up to her feet. “Never give up! Never surrender!”

Graham wiped the laughter tears away. “Was that the movie you and Luna went to? She said that the other night.”

“It was.” She noticed movement by the door, “Harry! Do you need something?”

“Um, yeah,” he shifted uncomfortably. “I have some questions. Mainly about Molly. Why did she want you to date Ron? And why did he agree?”

“I haven't asked her directly, but I assume because I could be ordered to be the perfect spouse for him. I would cater to his every whim and ignore the affairs. As Ginny was potioning you, I assume no one else knew about the two of you. Ron would need me to have kids for Molly and cover his affair with you.”

“That sucks. I am so sorry, Mione.” Harry frowned.

“Lots of people suffered for his greater good and lack of foresight. I am trying to fix it as best it best I can. I gave Neville his parents back, but I can help you find a new life without war.”

“You trust them?”

“Rodolphus and Rabastan treat me like a precious princess. Marcus loves me, and I love him. I trust Voldemort to keep his followers in line and keep his word so long as he gets what he wants.”

“And that is?” Harry asked.

“Power and immortality You two agree to a ceasefire, you live as long as you want in peace able to fall in love, get married, and have a family.”

“What do I have to do in exchange?” he ran his hand through his hair.

“Talk to Voldemort.”

“You make it sounds so easy.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 33 Peace Talks

“Talk to Voldemort,” Hermione told him.

“You make it sounds so easy.” Harry huffed

She nodded, “I'll let him know you want to talk.”

“Thanks.” Harry turned his attention to the television. “So what are we watching?”

“Old cartoons on Cartoon Network. Want to join us?” she offered.
“Yes, please.”

They settled in and continued the marathon in easy camaraderie. When Hermione ran to get Chinese for dinner, the conversation diverted to quidditch. She returned to a dissection of Marcus, Adrian, and Graham's chances to make the national team. “We'll know for sure next week.” Marcus came up behind her as she emptied the bags. He put his hands on her hips, “Are you coming to the announcement ceremony?”

“Do you want me to?” she asked.

“If you're available,” he knew he was hedging.

“Yes or no, Marcus?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Then I will be there.” She turned her head and kissed him. “When you want something, ask for it.” She caressed his cheek. Harry snickered. She turned to glare at him. “You can hush.”

“Nice to see you haven't changed, you're still bossy.”

“Get over here and get a plate before I decide not to feed you,” she retorted. The Slytherins laughed at the Gryffindors' antics as they filled plates with food.

That evening before bed, Hermione owled Voldemort to notify him Harry wished to speak. He answered immediately, arranging breakfast at Lestrange Hall the next morning. After sending the last message agreeing, Hermione slipped into bed next to Marcus. He pulled her to him and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Are you okay with all this?” he asked quietly.

“All of what?” she asked back.

“Potter being potioned and wanting to make peace. I know he apologized, but that was a quick exchange of words before everything really sunk in. I know you're still hurt about what happened.”

She kissed his bare chest, “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Stop evading the question.”

She sighed, “It depends on what Harry decides. He might call a truce, take his inheritance, and move to another country. He might call a truce and disappear into the countryside. With those options I probably never see him again, only receiving and sending messages during the holidays. Why have a screaming row about how I was treated over the years if this is the last time we spend together? If he stays and wants to keep in touch, or highly unlikely, join my helpful neutrality, that will be another matter. However, if we have the 'you hurt my feelings and I need a real apology' talk it will be far, far away from all of you.”

“What?” Marcus asked confused.

Hermione sat up and looked down at him, “If I have a go at Harry I do not want or need, the overprotective men in my life jumping in. It will be handled privately.”

“I can accept that if you will let me give him the overprotective boyfriend speech.”

“What is that?”

“Similar to the protective friend speech, if he hurts you again, I will end him.”

“Fair enough, you have my permission.”

“Thank you. I was going to either way, but I feel better with your blessing.” She laughed and swatted him. He caught her hand and put it on his chest. “Sleep now, big day tomorrow.”

Bright and early, Hermione woke Harry and dismissed the guards. Either Harry would be unable to hurt Voldemort through a vow or stay somewhere less pleasant, regardless they wouldn't be needing guards at her house anymore. She collected Harry and returned home. “Why are we having breakfast?”

“As a sign of trust. Once you break bread together you can't attack one another for twenty-four hours.”

“Good to know. I feel better about this. I might be able to eat, now.”

Rodolphus, Bellatrix, and Voldemort waited for them. “Good morning, pet,” Rodolphus greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “Mr. Potter,” he nodded.

“Good morning,” Harry replied, sliding into the chair next to Hermione. Maisie popped in with two plates. “Oh, thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, Maisie,” Hermione added.

Harry ate in silence and observed Hermione's interactions with her new family. Rabastan joined them with a joke about new jewelry. She teased Rodolphus by mentioning new rings, just none from Marcus. Mostly, though he observed Lord Voldemort. He noted the fondness the older man displayed while watching the family antics. Gone were the angry red eyes, the manic dark energy, in fact, he looked normal. A good looking, but ordinary, man in his 30s. He looked like his father had in the last memory had seen Riddle Sr in. He could almost forget the suffering this man caused in his life. Almost. He had questions. He cleared his plate and waited.
Seeing he had finished, Voldemort asked in a casual voice, “Would you like Hermione to join us?”

“If you don't mind, please. She can clarify misunderstandings,” answered Harry. “And if she's willing, of course.”

Voldemort nodded, “She may also possess answers I do not have.” He turned to Hermione, “Would you mind joining us, my dear?”

“Not at all.”

Bellatrix stood, “Why don't the three of us give you the room?” Her husband and brother-in-law nodded and rose from their seats.

Voldemort regarded Harry from across the table, “I expect you have questions.”

“Did you have to try and kill me and my parents?”

“Honestly? No, It was short-sighted and ill-advised of me to validate the prophecy. I acknowledge my complete irrationality at the time.”

Harry nodded, “I agree it was dumb. You were winning. All you had to do was ignore the distractions and cross the finish line.”

Voldemort grimaced, “You are correct. The destruction of three of my horcruxes returned my sanity and power. I will not be repeating those mistakes.” He glanced at Hermione.

“Is Hermione really safe from you?”

“And my followers, at the risk of losing my magic. She closed all the loopholes. And even if she hadn't she's made herself invaluable to me. Refuses to join, and keeps inserting her agenda into my plans, but her new perceptions of issues and suggestions make her a priceless addition.” Voldemort grinned fondly at her.

“You don't want her to take the Mark?”

“She does not want it, and I will not force her.”

“Would you make me?” Harry asked.

“Salazar, no! Who knows what would happen.”

Hermione patted Harry's hand, “The marking you as an equal part made you a horcrux.”

“Which is why neither of us dies without the other,” Harry reasoned out slowly. He ran his hand through his hair, “Fuck.”

“Indeed, Mr. Potter, indeed. I suggest a truce between us. We both vow not to kill one another unless the other asks Hermione to request we do so.”
“So like in 200 years?” questioned Harry.

“Something like that.”

“What do you want?”

“Power and immortality, Hermione knows well enough, she would have told you. I have achieved the second, and nearly have the first.”

“And you stopped the violence because Mione wanted you to?”

“Her and others. She made some good points about building a longer lasting empire. Not that I have plans past the British Isles anymore.”

“How will your ministry work?” asked Harry

“Like it has been. Though moving forward I hope to work with a less controlled minister.” Voldemort's eyes shift to Hermione.

“Keep your looks to yourself. I'll take the Lestrange seat, and maybe the Black one depending on Sirius's will. I have no interest in the exhaustion of governing anymore.”

He chuckled at her, “We'll see, you're young yet.”

A ghost of a smile graced Harry's face. “So, we call a truce and make vows, then what?”

“Without you, the war will crawl to an end. Some members will refuse to let it end, there will be some violence, I expect. But you are free to pursue any career you wish or none at all. The Potter fortune is yours. The goblins reported Dumbledore was quite put out that your parents sealed their vaults from anyone but you. Not even allowing access to pay for your childhood care.”

A light bulb went off for Hermione, “Oh, we'll have to block muggleborns from attempting litigation to claim existing fortunes.”

Harry looked confused, but Voldemort agreed, “Only from extinct lines.”

“And only a fraction, no one person should be claiming it.”

“Hypocrite,” Voldemort smirked, “you inherited two vaults.”

“I am pointing out possible issues with our larger plans. Also, the money is awarded at the age of twenty. That will keep it out of their parents' pockets.”

Harry shook his head, “So jaded.”

“And practical,” she chirped.

He returned his attention to the older wizard, “No parading me about? No forcing me to give speeches?”

“We make oaths of nonaggression then to ease into things you come into the ministry for questioning about Dumbledore's death, which is what you are official wanted for, but that's a formality. We all know what happened that night. Then you're free to live your life.”

“I would need assurances this isn't a trap,” Harry daringly said making eye contact.

“Certainly, rather shrewd of you. Though, if I double-cross you, I would lose Hermione.”

“Damn straight,” she replied.

“If I decided to I wanted revenge on the people who helped mistreat me?”

“Then I assist you as I can. Don't feel obligated to answer right away, take your time, think it over.”

“Okay.”

“Let Hermione know what you decide,” Voldemort told him.

“No, I mean, okay, let's do this.”

“Seriously?” asked Hermione. “Just like that?”

“Hermione, for the first time in my life someone gave me a choice. And anytime it was life or death you were right. Even the one time you were wrong, there was no real evidence, just my suspicions I know this means walking away from the Weasleys, but I can't even with them right now.”

“Not all the Weasleys,” Hermione remarked.

“Huh?” Harry said confused.

“I'll invite the members of the truce over for dinner. You can meet everyone again then.”

“Sounds good.”

Voldemort clapped his hands, “Shall we make our vow with Hermione as our bonder then?”

“Yes,” Harry responded.

They grabbed hands and Hermione pointed her wand at their joined hands. “Do you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort, swear not to harm, kill, or maim Harry James Potter directly or indirectly unless he asks of his own violation?”

“I do.” A gold ribbon of light encircled their hands.

“Do you, Harry James Potter, swear not to harm, kill, or maim Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort, directly or indirectly unless he asks of his own violation?”

“I do.” Another gold ribbon of light joined the first.

“So mote it be.” The golden light sank into their hands.

“Now, Mr. Potter, let's go oversee your “interrogation,” shall we?”

“Might as well,” Harry looked at Hermione.

“I'll arrange dinner and collect you.”

“It might be best if Mr. Potter stayed at the safe house for the time being without the guards.”

“By myself?” Harry looked uncomfortable.

“No, I'm sure if you stay Hermione will stay. And if she stays, Marcus will stay.”

“Won't the home owner mind?” asked Harry.

“The owner has offered the house as long as needed. They have other homes.” Voldemort assured him.

“I agreed then. So, onto the ministry then, I suppose.”

“Yes, we'll make a show of questioning you then the auror department will release a statement clearing you of any thought of wrongdoing. How involved you become after that is up to you. Hermione only assists with matters that further her agendas. Her friend, Miss Lovegood only assists Hermione. Your other friends are a mixed bag. This should give Hermione enough time to lay the groundwork for your dinner.” He winked at her.

“Just for that, you aren't invited. She told him smugly.

Harry found Hermione in the study, papers spread across the desk, “Always researching,” he joked. “At least not it's all for you.”

“The irony is I would have helped you without the orders if he had just left things alone.”

“I know,” Harry sat near the desk. “I still feel bad.” They sat in silence.

“The worst part of all of this has been that discovering you made me doubt the last seven years. I kept wondering if you were ever as much my friend as I was yours? Did I just see what I wanted to? Were you laughing at me behind my back? Did anyone ever like me?”

“You were and are my best friend. The one I should have supported better. Ron was my first friend, and I always feared losing him. It felt like if I lost him I would be friendless. And I took advantage of the fact that you would always forgive me. Then once we were together I wanted to make him happy, even if I didn't like it.”

“Something Dumbledore ensured with his charms,” she growled.

“Yes, and I think he made sure I put more trust in Ron for some reason.”

“Control. Who knows what we might have done without the leashes?”
“Ended this war years ago,” Harry shrugged.

“Entirely possible,” Hermione agreed. She paused, “Why were the two of you on my bed? Why not use one of your own? It just feels like a slap in the face, you know?”

“It just kind of happened. We didn't plan it. More often than not we used mine. But the longer we were on the run the worse Ron got about you. He's the one that kept saying that he needed a girlfriend to help cover up our relationship. That's why he dated Lavender that year.”

“Luna told me Lavender told her they were still together or at least sleeping together right up until we left,” Hermione told him.

“Yeah, he's become even more of git,” Harry admitted.

“I refuse to ever let anyone treat me that way again,” she told him in a hard voice. “I am giving you a second chance because of the charms and potions. But there will be no third. Ask around about Parkinson and Higgs.”

He swallowed hard, “I understand. I don't even know if I deserve the second chance.”

“Then earn it. Be the kind of friend you think you should have been. Be the kind of friend you want to be. But be aware, I am not going to coddle your feelings. No more moping then exploding in anger. Learn to control yourself or go away.”

“I'll work on it,” he promised. The conversation drifted to an end. “What are you working on?”

“The power Dumbledore tried to keep from me included inheriting two estates, one in Greece and one in Italy. I am going through the inventories to decide which to visit first.”

“When are you going?”

“The last two weeks of January, then focusing on Luna's wedding. After that, I'll head to the second one for two weeks. Once I've
looked over things, I'll begin reviewing research proposals and conducting interviews. Just because there is an owner again doesn't mean just anyone is getting in.”

“Sounds fair to me.” Harry played with a paperclip. “So, who's coming tonight?”

“Luna, Neville, the Lupins, Bill, Fleur, Fred and George. The older Longbottoms and the Tonks declined. They have plans with the Malfoys.” She smirked at his flash of surprise.

“Will Marcus be there?”

“No, he and Graham decided to have a boys' night elsewhere to give us room for a proper reunion.”

“Hermione?” Harry asked hesitantly. “Can I ask you something?”

“You know you can, anything.”

“Would I be betraying my parents if I decided to be active in Voldemort's regime?”

“No. You are your own person. You need to make the choice that is right for you.”

“I want to change the Wizarding World. It needs to change.”

“I agree.”

He gave her a sad smile, “What was done to us is not okay. A lot of magic is not okay. Who gets to decide what is dark and what is not?” Harry's rant began to pick up speed, “There needs to be a balance of power. No one should wield as much as Dumbledore did, not even Voldemort.” He looked evenly at her, daring her to protest.

“I have similar thoughts, but you swore an Unbreakable Vow, so let's not start down that path.” She gave him a pointed look.

“Probably a good idea.”

“Talk to Frank Longbottom or Rodolphus about your Wizenmagot seat and such. They can help you with that.”

Definitely a good idea. Thanks, Mione.”

“You're welcome, Harry.”

He stood and walked towards the door. He stopped and turned back, “And Hermione?”

“Yeah?”

“When you get revenge on those Weasleys I want in.”

She caught his eye and studied his face, “Okay,” she nodded once. Harry left her to her work.

Once she determined to start with the Isle of Ponza she an invitation to join her with her inspection of the site to Peregrine, Rowle, and Orene MacGregor. She penned a note for Yaxley explaining her plan to allow Peregrine to provide approved updates. She notified Remus and Narcissa of her plans to go for the last two weeks of January.

Around four, Varl presented her with a slice of his finished product. “Excellent pizza, Varl. Thank you.”

“Varl likes learnings new dishes. Next on the list be Mistress's beloved dim sum and egg rolls.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“Varl knows. Varl wants to,” his ears wiggled happily.

“Alright then, carry on.” She made a mental note to purchase cookbooks for the elf.

Chapter Text

Chapter 34 National Announcements

Dinner began cheerfully, reunited friends celebrating and catching up. Fleur announced her pregnancy. She was due at the end of April or the beginning of May. But the unspoken field mouse in the room grew to be an elephant by dessert. In typical Weasley twin fashion, Fred and George eventually faced it head-on. “Does anyone think there's any hope of all this not ending in violence?” asked one of the twins.

The other grimaced, “We don't want to fight against our parents or younger siblings.”

“No one expects you to fight,” Hermione told him calmly. The table looked at her in shock. “If the remnants of the Order of Phoenix pick a fight, Voldemort doesn't expect us to fight for him. He just wants us to honor our truce and not fight against him.”

“Really?” asked George hopefully.

“Really,” she promised.

“Have you decided what to do about Ron and Mum?” asked Fred.

“While the idea of ritual castration and dismemberment does soothe the savage part of my soul, it would be hypocritical to ask others to ignore the bad things others have done while demanding the streets run red with Weasley blood” she paused, “Unless they do something to provoke me again.”
“Which they will as soon as they realize who you are,” Tonks pointed out.

“I know, and when it happens I will be justified in what happens. I gave them a second chance, even if they don't realize it.”

“You should already feel justified,” Harry told her quietly. “They sacrificed your life on the altar of war for their own selfish gain. You deserve their heads on a pike and anything else you want. We also need to destroy the cult of Dumbledore.”

Remus scratched his chin, “What about sharing your memories with an author?”

“Not Rita Skeeter,” replied Harry bitterly.

Hermione began to snicker, eventually morphing into a full-on laugh. Neville frowned, “Everything okay, Hermione?”

She wiped her eyes, “Nothing Rita writes will ever be believed. We'll need someone else. But that is a good idea.”

Fleur beamed, “I have a friend at the bank who would love to write a book. I can ask her.”

“Yes, please do.” Hermione clapped her hands.

Changing the subject, Remus asked the twins about the shop. Soon the duo had everyone in stitches with their antics.

Harry stayed downstairs after the others left and Hermione headed up to bed. He flipped through an old photo album of Hermione's from the first few years of Hogwarts. He jumped when a voice from the doorway startled him. “Potter.” He looked over to find Flint giving him a stern stare.

“Flint,” he greeted.

Marcus stalked into the room and sat across from Harry, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know Hermione welcomed you back with open arms, and that's her decision. I just want you to know, that if you hurt her again, I will end you. There will be nowhere on this planet you can hide that I will not find you. And it will not be quick or painless. You will suffer for every tear I've dried.”

Harry considered his words, realizing the depth of the large man's feelings for his friend. “You love her,” he stated evenly.

“More than I have ever loved anything in my life. If she suggested it I would drop quidditch tomorrow and never look back. And the knowledge that thought would never cross her mind, let alone her lips, makes me love her even more.”

“Understood. I have no intentions of hurting Hermione. She made it very clear she will not tolerate such treatment again.”

Marcus smirked, “Got the talking to, did ye?”

“Yep,” Harry set aside the album and mirrored Marcus's body language, “though, let's be clear, if you hurt Mione, I will end you. Once she's done with you, I will make sure there is nothing left to salvage. You want to scoff, but you should know between me and Mione, I'm the better duelist. She will be more creative, but my smaller collection of spells is enough to do the job, trust me.”

Marcus nodded, “Good start to being a better friend.” He stood. “Night, Potter.”

“Remember the silencing charms, please.”

Marcus laughed, “If she doesn't put them up then she wants to torture you, and I'm not falling on that sword for you.”

January 16th Hermione joined her friends in the ministry atrium for the announcement of the national team. Nora waved brightly from her spot. Percy and Esme approached as she made her way through the throng. “Headmaster Snape asked me to Hogwarts to discuss a professional opportunity. Do you know anything about it?”

“My lips are sealed,” she smirked. Percy gave her a sharp look. “I've faced sociopaths, werewolves, and trolls. Do you think that look scares me?”

“Fine, you win, you have nothing to say about the matter,” Percy huffed.

“Thank you. How have you been, Esme?” Hermione asked.

“I've been good, thanks. I'm super excited for Marcus. Just being on the nominated list is huge at his age.”

“Adrian explained it to me, well he explained why it was amazing for him.”

Esme laughed, “Sounds like Adrian.”

“Have you seen your brother?” asked Hermione scanning the crowds again.

Percy pointed to a corner across the room, “Over there with his mates.”

“Thanks,” she waved farewell to the couple and made her way toward her boyfriend. The moment their eyes met he began heading in her direction. “Hello, sweetie.”

He slipped his arm around her shoulders, “I'm glad you came. You can help keep Ades calm.”

“Have we considered using Calming Draught?”

“Three vials, he's wound tighter than McGonagall's knickers.”

“Don't be absurd,” she swatted him. They returned the knot of people there to support the three quidditch players up for the national team. Adrian carried on fretting about the pros and cons of making the team, the advantages of not making the team, and their chances until Hermione threatened to hex him bald and impotent. “You wouldn't! How could you be so cruel?”

“Try me. I've done more for less,” she glared at him. “Stop being a drama llama.”

“I'll be good,” Adrian said in a small voice.

“Thank fuck,” responded Cassius.

Before Adrian would fuss, the Quidditch Commissioner stepped up to the podium. “Good morning. Thank you for joining us for this momentous occasion, as we announce the English team for the 1998 World Cup Series.” He paused for the smattering of polite applause. “I know most of you lack the patience for speeches at the best of times,” laughter interrupted him briefly. “So, let's get right to it, shall we? Beginning with the reserve team.” He paused for dramatic effect. “As keeper, Eric Browning from the Catapults. For seeker, Oakley Barrett from the Falcons.” Nora shouted and leapt at her husband, staggering the shocked man. “The chasers are Ivy Cooper from the Wanderers, Tam Harper from the Bangers, and Callum Scott from the Wasps. And last, but certainly not least, the reserve beaters are Graham Montague from the Arrows and Keith Hawkins from Pride of Portree.” The celebratory back slaps jostled Graham. Luna gave him a sound kiss. He reacted by lifting her off her feet in a hug.

The commissioner gave the crowd a moment to calm down. “Congratulations to you all. Now onto the first string team. As keeper, Oliver Wood from Puddlemere United. As seeker, Jenny Markin from the Arrows. Our chasers are Mick Connel from the Magpies, Adrian Pucey from the Falcons, and Marcus Flint from the Falcons. And, again, last the beaters, Gwenog Jones from the Harpies and Nathan Campbell from the Kestrels. Congratulations to all our players, and good luck.”

Marcus and Adrian received the same congratulations Graham did. Hermione patted Adrian before hugging Marcus tightly. Similar to Graham, he lifted her off her feet and swung her slightly. “I did it. I made the team,” he whispered to her.

“Of course you did,” she kissed him. “Congratulations, brute.”

“Thank you, little dove.” He put her down. “There's a brief team meeting, then some interviews. Then the team has plans to celebrate together.”

“I'm sure I can find some way to entertain myself,” she promised. “Go on.”

“I'll find you,” he promised.

“I suggest Yaxley's office. I'm in the ministry, he should be appearing any second now.”

He laughed and pointed behind her, “Like over there?”

She glance over her shoulder, “I did send him a teasing note about Greece.”

“Oh?”

“I'll let Boles send him approved updates in exchange for his services.”

“When are you going?” Marcus asked.

“The next two weeks. That way you can focus on team building without worrying about neglecting me.”

“Have I told you how perfect you are lately?”

“Nope, but you can now.”

He hugged her again, “You are perfect. I love you.”

“I know. Now, go.” smiling she gave him a little push towards the rest of the team making their way from the atrium.

Nora found her before Yaxely could navigate through the crush to reach her. “Hermione! Can you believe it? Oh, Oakes is in shock. He's been making the shortlist for years.”

“It's amazing. I'm so excited for all of them. They worked so hard.” Hermione told her.

Yaxley arrived next to Hermione. “Hello, Miss Lestrange, Mrs. Barrett.” Nora shifted her weight back and forth, trying not to fidget nervously.

Hermione gave her a reassuring smile, “Nora, this is Corbin Yaxley, we collaborate on projects from time to time.”

“Hello, Mr. Yaxley.”

“Pleasure to make you acquaintance, ma'am. Though speaking of collaboration, might I steal Miss Lestrange? We've been discussing a project and I expect Flint to convince her to act her age for the next few days.”

“Certainly, I'll see you later, Hermione.”

“You know it,” Hermione gave her a brief hug. She followed Yaxely away from the throng. “My note get your attention?”

“You know it did and Boles'. What do you mean approved updates?”

“Like everyone else, you get to know what I'm willing to share. No one needs to know about Circe's descendants' sex toy collection. Nor will just anyone be allowed in. I will be controlling who has access.”

“Do you have a plan for treasure hunters and property claims?”

“Bat bogey hexes or boils. Anyone who can describe items in minute details will be heard out. If prior ownership can be determined, we will discuss how the item came to be in my possession. Then we can begin negotiations for compensation.”

“Why would you compensate them?” he asked confused.

“No, they will be compensating me for storage and a finder's fee. That should cut down on the exploitative types. Some people will be hexed first, but so be it,” she shrugged.

“I understand why you weren't in Hufflepuff, but why not Slytherin?”

“I asked for Gryffindor,” she reported primly.

“Of course you did. May I ask to be kept abreast of major discoveries and unusual items?”

“No one else gets to see the grimoires. They are for me and mine.” He looked ready to protest. “Don't like it? Publish your family grimoire and I'll consider publishing mine.”

“Fair enough.”

“But I will allow Boles to update you of any major discoveries and the unusual.”

“Thank you,” he glanced at the clock. “The national team generally goes out to celebrate, may I suggest popping to a salon and getting the works. Lots of photographers tonight.”

“Would you send someone to collect Nora and Luna? More fun going with someone.”

Name dropping at the salon got the three of them into chairs almost immediately. Specialists styled their hair, polished their nails, and applied cosmetics. Nora looked down at her drab robes. “I don't think I have anything glamorous enough to match my hair,” she chuckled dryly.

Luna looked across the street, “Okay, here are the rules: you get fifteen minutes to pick the basic outfit. Then one of us picks your shoes and the other your jewelry. We have to be walking our fully dressed in thirty minutes.”

Nora looked dejected, “I really shouldn't drop that kind of money on that kind of place.”

Luna took the other woman's hand, “The Quibbler can pay. I can write this up as a puff piece, thirty-minute shopping sprees. It'll be fun.”

Hermione took her other hand, “Come along, next she gives you woeful puppy eyes. Few can withstand them.”

“I'm outnumbered, aren't I?”

“You are,” Hermione assured her, “best to just give in now.”

“It seems inevitable,” Nora sighed. “Let's shop.”

Thirty minutes later they emerged dressed for a high-end bar outing. Nora tugged at the collar of her black skater dress. Giving it a classic feel, Luna selected pearl jewelry and Hermione paired it with white leather high-heeled Mary Janes. “Stop, you look lovely. Oakley won't know what hit him.”

Hermione had matched Luna's plum-hued slip dress with a crystal choker and matching earrings. Nora picked out black Grecian sandals. Hermione's outfit proved to be the most daring. She chooses a shimmering silver chain mail tank top with a pair of low-rise boot-cut leather trousers. Luna selected black heeled Oxford boots for her. Nora found a black velvet ribbon choker with a vintage cameo broach attached to it and thick silver dangling helix earrings. “Let's go break some hearts,” Luna linked her arms with the other two.

“I don't know about that, but I'm ready,” giggled Nora.

They returned to the atrium to find family, friends, and mega fans of the team milling about waiting for the press junket to end. Numerous people glanced their way, turning back for a second longer look. A few simply stared. Luna leaned over to whisper to Hermione, “I always wondered what it would be like to be one of the pretty girls.”

“You've always been a pretty girl, Luna. People are noticing now.”

“And ironically now I don't care who's looking as long as Graham is.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 35 Surprises

The team emerged to the cheers of family, friends, and diehard fans. The press moved toward the floo banks, stopping here and there to collect a comment from someone. One young reporter, only a few years older than them, stopped in front of Luna, “Miss Lovegood, a question, will Montague's making the team affect your wedding plans?”

Luna shook her head, “No, we're having a small intimate sunset ceremony followed by a formal reception. Everything is in place. My maid of honor and I finished the robes just yesterday,” she flashed him a bright airy smile.

Disappointment shone on his face briefly, he schooled his expression when he saw Hermione's fierce glower. He turned his attention to her, “Miss Lestrange, will you be supporting Flint during the tournament?”

“I will, I have meticulously planned my work trips around the matches,” she gave him a sickeningly sweet smile. She hated drama llamas and those that feed them.

“I was unaware you had a career.”

“I conduct independent research,” she answered despite the lack of question in his statement.

“What are you researching?” he looked eager to have a scoop.

“How a sealed estate maintains artifacts in a manor house versus an open site.”

He frowned, clearly confused, “And Flint supports you in this?”

“Of course.”

Sensing the reporter's danger, even if he didn't, Adrian rushed up and embraced each woman in turn. “Can you believe this? We all made the team.”

Hermione patted him on the shoulder, “Congratulations, Ades.”

Adrian looked them over having noticed how made up they looked. He leered playfully, “Nora, my love, you are stunning. Run away with me?”

“Are ye outta yer mind?” Nora swatted him. “Oakley'd have yer head.”

Adrian slung his arm around her shoulders, leading her away from the reporter, Luna and Hermione following. “Now, see, Barrett is the one I think I could take in a fight.”

“Not a chance, mate.” Oakley removed Adrian's arm from his wife. “Go find your own woman.”

“But yours is nicer,” he whined.

“Date better women,” retorted Marcus, embracing Hermione. “Ready to celebrate?” he asked her.

“What's on the agenda?”

“The team reserved a room for dinner at some new place in Diagon Alley. Then a short bar crawl to a few places.”

“Lead on, can't have your fans thinking I don't support my sweetie.” She stepped from his arms and took his hand. They followed the rest of the group out. The team flooed to the restaurant where the owner and manager welcomed them warmly.

The seating arrangements grouped players by positioning, which separated the girls. “Why can't you all do the same thing?” Luna grumbled under her breath. Graham laughed, but said nothing, only kissing her forehead tenderly.

Marcus held out Hermione's chair for her. He sat and gave her a tentative smile, “Sorry.”

“For what? Some reporter asked annoying questions, and Luna expects more. I might take her to Greece with me.”

“Everything is ready?”

“You doubt my organizational skills?” she raised an eyebrow.

“No, ma'am.” He glanced down the table to Nora and Luna at opposite ends.

Hermione patted his hand, “Relax, I understand the seating arrangements.”

“Then explain it to me,” groused a bottle blonde sitting across the table.

“Olive,” whispered Callum Scott harshly.

“What? I don't understand why we have to sit in the middle of the table? No one out there can see my outfit.”

“Everyone on the team needs to be comfortable with one another. You never know when someone will be substituted in. And we're going to several pubs, plenty of people will see you there.” Olive looked pacified and Callum grateful.

On her other side, Mick Connell laughed, “So, you're the enigmatic Hermione Lestrange.”

“I don't know about enigmatic, but I am Hermione Lestrange.”

“No one had heard of you before last year. You didn't attend Hogwarts, yet you're quite chummy with people you shouldn't know, like Fred and George Weasley.” She looked at him quizzically. “I saw you talking at their shop like old friends.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that people have secrets you aren't entitled to, and pasts that are better left unspoken of?”

“I, uh...”

She interrupted his stuttering, “My parents spent most of my life imprisoned for being on the wrong side of a political dispute. They did commit horrible acts and did their time. But while there were in prison can you imagine attending Hogwarts with the last name Lestrange?”

Mick looked down, chastened, “My apologies, in all the recent excitement in the papers about you I forgot how your early life was affected.”

“This is your one free pass, spread that around. Also, this get-together is not about me, your focus should be on your teammates, not gossip and rumors.”

“Why does he get a free pass?” protested Adrian. “I teased you about those photos in the Prophet and you hexed me.”

“You knew better without the warning,” she replied curtly.

Olive stared at her with wide eyes. “You seriously don't want any focus on you?”

“Not because of something I wore, or because I'm dating Marcus. Though Luna wants to publish some articles about fun things to do with friends, so those might include clothing.” Hermione shrugged.

“But you have an amazing wardrobe!” protested Olive.

“Bet that costs a pretty penny,” laughed Tam Harper, “How much that set you back, Flint?”

“Ha,” burst Adrian, “he can barely get her to accept a gift if it isn't a gift-giving event.”

Hermione glared at him, “I don't want things. I don't need things. Why am I defending myself to you?”

“Everybody wants things,” Adrian told her. “It's normal.”

Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, “I know where you sleep, your mother will let me in, and your house elves like me better than you.”

He swallowed nervously, “Point taken, you're right. You don't need stuff.”

Marcus chuckled, “Stop playing with Ades, you'll break him.”

“Who says I'm playing?” she asked with fake innocence.

“If you were going to retaliate you would never warn him how or when you were coming.”

“Very true,” she gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Please don't help her, she doesn't need your help,” Adrian told him.

“I like being on the winning team,” Marcus deadpanned. Their section of the table burst into laughter, drawing the attention of the rest of the table. Couch Maupin grinned, “Now that's the kind of camaraderie I want to see.” Hermione stuck out her tongue at Adrian, making everyone laugh harder.

“Very mature,” he told her.

“I know” she winked at him. The chaser section fell into a comfortable conversation for the rest of the meal. When Luna questioned the laughter she replied, “Adrian.”

“Ah,” Luna nodded sagely.

At the first stop, Hermione sipped a drink and danced with Luna and Nora on the dance floor as the team spent most of their time greeting fans. Each woman snuck their paramour a pint or two, to the envy of the others. Taking pity on him, Hermione handed Adrian one, too.

Without a planned arrival time at the second stop, word had not yet spread the national team was there, giving the team downtime to enjoy themselves. Mick attempted to tease Marcus and Oakley when he discovered their method of dancing was to stand behind their partners each with his hands on her hips. Marcus responded by pulling Hermione closer, changing her movements from gyrations to grinding. Marcus smirked as Mick acknowledged the genius of it.

Skimming his hands over the skin of her stomach, Marcus spoke into her ear, “Scott's girlfriend is right, you have amazing clothes.” In response, she turned her head and kissed him over her shoulder. “Hmm, got to behave, still have one more stop tonight.”

“But naughty is more fun,” she pouted.

He groaned, “I know.” They danced most of the time at the second bar, as the fans seemed to respect their space and relationships.

At the third stop, Hermione took a moment to escape the press of people and noise, seeking refuge on a stool at the quieter side bar. She felt more than saw a presence sit next to her. “Ah, lass, ye've got the right idea.” She glanced and identified the newcomer as Oliver Wood. She swallowed her initial panic and wrapped her hands around her glass to hide the shaking her nerves caused. “All the pounding bass is doing me head in.” Silently she extracted a bottle of aspirin from her bag and slid it toward him. “Me thanks.” He shook out a few pills before sliding the bottle back. They sat nursing their drinks for several minutes before speaking again. “Ye'll have to excuse me manners, I'm just pissed enough to be nosy. But why is a pureblood princess carrying around muggle medications?” As an answer, she turned to face him straight on. Watching the rapid change of expression on his face she cast the muffliato charm. “Holy shite, Hermione!” he lunged forward to hug her. “Where the hell have ye been? How? Why?”

“Ollie, calm down. Through a bunch of circumstances and interactions, the Lestranges blood adopted me. And before you ask, Marcus and I have been together since June.”

“So long as he makes ye happy.”

“He does. Are you calm enough I can drop the charm?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you know how Harry is?”

“He's fine, don't worry about him.”

“All that fuss is coming to an end, isn't it?”

“It is, and while it won't be a utopia, it won't be a dystopia, either. There is a chance for stability.”

“Doesn't sound so bad.”

“No, it doesn't,” she admitted.

He slapped the bar top lightly, “Thanks for the medicine, Hermione. I'll be seeing you.”

“At every World Cup event. Just maybe not with all the other WAGs.”

“Can't say I blame you,” he chuckled. He waved and exited the side bar.

She finished her drink and followed Oliver's example, going back into the dance club. She located Luna in the flashing colored lights glowing into the darkened room. The lights pulsed in sync with the bass beats of the music. “Have a nice talk with Oliver?” she asked Hermione.

“Yeah, he recognized me but didn't freak out. He was surprised but relaxed about it. Then again, he was ahead of us in school. The early stuff didn't affect him as much, if at all. And he was gone before it heated up.”

“You're not wrong,” Luna told her.

Graham and Marcus approached, each carrying a drink for his girlfriend. “There you are,” Graham handed Luna her drink. He turned to Hermione, “I hear you helped finish all the wedding stuff. Thanks.”

“You're welcome. There wasn't much, your mum wants to do most of it, despite all my offers. At this point, we only have to show up for the last fitting two days before the wedding.”

“And Mum is loving every second of it.” Graham laughed.

Marcus wrapped his arm around Hermione and kissed her temple, “We should be able to leave in about half an hour if you're ready to go.”

“Hmmm, stay here and drink with strangers or go home and spend some quality naked time with you before you're busy with training and I go to Greece? Dilemma, dilemma, what to do?” she tapped her chin. “I think I'll take the quality time.”

“That was my choice, too,” he leered at her playfully.

“But only if it is naked,” she pointed a finger at him with a mock stern scowl on her face.”

“Absolutely,” he promised. Marcus managed to stretch quality time over the next two days. They only emerged because Rodolphus sent an owl requesting Hermione attend dinner at the Hall that evening. “You're not leaving until tomorrow, right?”

“Correct. I will see you tonight. I'm going to double-check I packed everything I need, and make sure Harry started packing anything.”

Hermione returned to her new ancestral home with plenty of time to change if the meal had turned formal without her knowledge. She checked with Bellatrix who confirmed her current outfit was acceptable. “Has that upstart Greyback bothered you again?”

“No, but I have been in hiding with Harry or out with Marcus lately.”

“Good. Let me know if something changes.”

“I, will,” Hermione promised.

“Oh, and Roddy hasn't caught on that the Lovegood girl planned a very traditional ceremony. Don't tell him. His reaction will be the highlight of the evening, for me anyway.”

“I'll do my best, but no promises.”

Hermione found her father and uncle in Rodolphus's study drinking like fish. “Are we celebrating or commiserating?” she asked.
Rabastan continued to stare at the glass in his hands, his face lined with distress. Rodolphus's mouth twitched up briefly at her, “Both, pet. The restoration of our good reputation and the lack of chaos under the new leadership has reminded another family of a martial agreement made two generations ago. The first generation produced only male issue, then we were imprisoned.”

She frowned, “If the next words out of your mouth are to inform me of my impending nuptials bad things are about to occur.”

“What? No! The family looking to get their hands on the dowry only has a daughter, meaning she's marrying Rabastan.”

“Oh,” Hermione replied lamely.

“Yes, oh,” spat out Rabastan.

“How bad is this? Like age-wise and gold digger behavior?”

Rodolphus answered her, “Not sure exactly, but she's younger than Bas but older than you. As to the gold digger thing, who knows? Not a family we usually socialize with.”

“Which in itself says something,” Rabastan said, “But by the grace of all that's holy I am not old enough to be her father, or rather I would have been barely old enough.”

“Well, that sucks,” Hermione patted his shoulder. “So long as she isn't a Parkinson or Bulstrode you should be all right.”

“Your support is overwhelming, little witch.” Rabastan downed his drink.

“I am not laughing, nor am I throwing a wobbly. I will be cordial and welcoming. Unless she's a cunt. Then I will team up with Mummy Dearest to make the next century as miserable as possible.” She kissed his forehead. “Because I love you.”

“That is rather sweet of you.” Rabastan told her, “I'm hoping for the former, but at least the latter will be entertaining.” He gave her a half-smile.

“See, already feeling better,” she teased. She left them to their drinking and went in search of educational reading material.

Five minutes to seven the formal floo chimed announcing the bride and her parents. Rost, the head elf, escorted them to the salon the Lestrange family waited for them. A large blustery blond man with long bushy muttonchops entered followed by a sour-looking heavyset woman. Their daughter looked familiar, but Hermione couldn't place her. Hermione followed Bellatrix's lead and remained seated when the men stood in greeting. Rodolphus shook the man's hand. “Welcome, allow me to introduce my wife, Bellatrix, and our daughter, Hermione. You know Rabastan. Bella, Hermione, this is Roger Clearwater and his wife, Sarah, and their daughter, Penelope.” Bellatrix nodded regally.

“Hello,” Hermione dimpled at their guests. She remembered the girl now, a Ravenclaw prefect that dated Percy Weasley. They had been petrified by the basilisk together. She wondered if the older girl would remember her.

Rabastan greeted his fiancee and escorted her to the dining room. To break the awkward silence, he began asking about her interests and career. “I manage a herbology greenhouse in Godric's Hollow, it doubles as a muggle gardening shop.”

“How interesting, was Herbology your favorite subject at school?”

Before Penelope could answer, her mother interrupted, “She'll be stopping all that work nonsense when you marry, of course. A wife's place is at home. She needs to focus on taking care of her husband and children.” Penelope's face fell.

“Is that what you want to do?” asked Bellatrix.

“She'll do as is expected of her,” Roger sniffed.

“Excuse me, I believe I addressed Penelope,” Bellatrix glared at him. “I want her to answer.”

Penelope looked at her future sister-in-law hesitantly, “I do enjoy my job, but accept that I may have to step down to take care of the home.”

“Why? Bas is a second son, as his wife you have few responsibilities at the manor, and nanny elves for the times when you are not home.”

Roger and Sarah briefly glared at her until she raised an eyebrow reminding them who they were looking at. Deciding to let Penelope know both Lestrange women were in her court, Hermione drew their attention to her by taking a sip of her water. “And according to the martial agreement, Penelope will conduct herself by the customs of the Lestrange family. And Merlin knows we don't devote every waking moment to this household. Nor does anyone expect us to.”
Rodolphus chuckled, “No, we do not.”

Rabastan addressed Penelope, “Work if you want to work, quit if you want to quit. The Hall has extensive grounds, you could create here. There may even be a greenhouse somewhere.”

“There is, probably needs some work, but there is one at the end of the south lawn,” Rodolphus told him.

“See? We can accommodate anything you want.”

“Happiness doesn't matter here, just that the wedding takes place,” Roger told them.

“And you get your money and business contracts renewed?” asked Hermione with fake sweetness.

“How do you know about that?” demanded Roger.

“I can read. I reviewed the contract, so I would know what to expect. Have you reviewed it?”

“Of course,” he puffed himself up indignantly.

“And you agree with everything therein?” she asked innocently. Her father and uncle watched with interest, and Bellatrix beamed with pride.

“I do indeed.”

“And you agree with every stimulation?”

“Certainly.”

“Okay then.” Hermione nodded. She turned back to Penelope, “What house were you in at Hogwarts? Most of my friends were in Slytherin.”

“I was in Ravenclaw,” she quietly admitted.

“Oh, my friend, Luna Lovegood was in Ravenclaw, do you know her?”

“Not really, she was several years younger than me, I think.”

Sarah diverted the conversation back to the impending nuptials. “The sooner the wedding takes place the better. We're thinking early April. There may need to be some landscaping to accommodate that.”

“Why would we landscape?” asked Rabastan.

“The contract states the wedding will take place here at the Hall,” Hermione reported. “Where the couple will be making their home afterward.” Sarah nodded a predatory gleam in her eyes, no doubt envisioning future celebrations hosted by her daughter in her elegant home. Penelope stared at her plate, clearly uncomfortable with the proceedings.

“Doesn't it usually take longer to organize weddings?” asked Rabastan looking a little wide in the eyes.

“Only to help keep costs down, and if you have to rent a hall. With enough money you can arrange anything,” Sarah assured him.

Hermione and Bellatrix attempted to change the subject repeatedly, only to have one of the elder Clearwaters return to the subject of the expensive wedding they intended to demand as soon as possible. Once they departed the family retreated for drinks.

“That could have been worse,” Rabastan collapsed onto a chair. “I think I need to get to know her without her family about.”

“Agreed,” Rodolphus sighed, “this wedding is going to cost more than the dowry.”

“Most likely, but we're not paying for it.” Hermione took a drink. “The bride's family is responsible for the cost of the wedding and reception.” She paused in thought, “I think the Clearwaters were hoping the bride would be a Lestrange.”

Rabastan nodded, “The last two generations have been the first in three centuries to not have a female. You broke the slump.”

Hermione shrugged, “So let them go crazy spending money, they agreed to all the stipulations. None of the backlash is going to affect Penelope, by the time the first bill arrives she'll
be a Lestrange, and we protect our own.” She flashed Bellatrix a feral grin.

Her mother laughed, “I adore your vicious streak. Do you have any plans, or will we be winging this?”

“First, to let them spend themselves into the poor house. Second, to ensure Penelope gets the things she wants for a wedding.”

“Ugh, this house is going to be filled to the brim with children in a few years,” groused Bellatrix. “I didn't much care for children when I was a child.”

Hermione considered it for a moment, “Actually, I've been considering living at Courtenay Ave, Marcus is a second son, so he isn't expected to stay home, and Esme's current boyfriend is estranged from his, so Merrick might have them stay there. But it saves a little face for him not having to move into my family's estate.”

Bellatrix nodded, “Giving more space for the remaining family to not feel overrun by small children and then teenage hormones. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

“So any other nasty surprises in the contract?”

“Let's see, the Clearwaters get a one-time lump sum, and you renew several business contracts for two decades. The bride joins the family and is under their customs. The bride's family pays for the wedding. The manner in which the children are educated is to be determined by the groom's family. At the end of the two decades, the expectation is that the children from the union would be males old enough to join those businesses and the relationship would continue.”

“What are the contracts?” asked Rodolphus.

Hermione looked at him, “Did you not read the contract, either?”

“I skimmed it enough to know the basics, a mistake, I know.”

“Discounted shipping to America and to only use their potion ingredients at the three apothecaries the Lestranges own in Wales.”

“The shipping fleet is nonexistent and those communities mostly do their own brewing.”

Hermione shrugged, “Not our problem, those are the stipulations. They really should have read the contract.” She looked at Rabastan, “Please make an effort. This is horribly unfair to Penelope, and divorcing and making her go back to her family is out of the question.”

“Agreed, my romantic skills are rusty, but I'll make the attempt. Lucius and Narcissa prove an arranged marriage can be happy if you put the work in. Unless she's got some side lover she doesn't want to leave behind, then we'll discuss that between ourselves.”

“Fair,” Rodolphus saluted him with his drink.

Chapter Text

Chapter 36 Greece

“So how big is the age difference?” Marcus asked.

“Thirteen years,” Hermione shrugged.

Harry looked at Marcus, “Is that a big deal? A few muggles might raise an eyebrow, but most wouldn't be too fussed.”

“Not too big, a few half bloods or muggleborns might voice an opinion, but who cares what strangers think?”

“Exactly,” Hermione agreed. She turned to Harry, “Are you packed, yet?”

“Yep and anything I forget is my own fault and I will have to get or live without.” He grinned cheekily.

“Narcissa has the portkey, and Remus will meet us at Malfoy Manor in about ten minutes.”

“Locked and loaded,” Harry saluted her and hopped up to collect his bag.

Marcus took advantage of his departure to pull Hermione onto his lap. “Message me when you get there safely.”

“I will,” she kissed him softly, “and I will message you every night.”

“I love you,” he told her softly.

“I love you, too.”

“I'm going to miss you,” he admitted in a quieter voice.

She kissed him again, “Two weeks will race by, I hope. But you know you're going to collapse after training every evening.”

“I know, I know,” he leaned his forehead against hers.

The clock chimed the hour. She kissed him soundly, “We have to go.”

Marcus held her tighter, “I know, doesn't mean I have to like it.” She snogged him until Harry returned.

“Mione, Remus, and Narcissa will be waiting.”

She broke away from Marcus, “Yeah, yeah.” She stood. “Let's go.” She looked down at her boyfriend, “I'll message you later.”

“Me, too.”

Three bags waited next to the front door at Malfoy Manor. “Remus, I thought you and Teddy were going home every evening?”

“We are, one of those bags is for Teddy, the other two are filled with everything Cissa thinks she'll need during the day.”

The witch in question bustled in, “And I'm not convinced it isn't enough. Oh, well. Thorfinn indicated the other members of your party are ready to go as soon as you lower the wards.”

“We're ready if you are,” Hermione shrank the bags and stored them in her beaded bag.

“Splendid, shall we?” Narcissa held out a statuette of an island with a cave opening in the cliffs. “Everyone grab hold, Isla de Ponza awaits.”

Hermione gritted her teeth against the spinning nausea. She started walking through the air to help her landing. A soft warm breeze caressed her cheek. The scent of flowers wafted on that breeze mixing with the salty ocean smell. Nearby waves crashed against the cliffs and onto the white sand beach below.

Harry let out a whistle, “Wow, Hermione, this place is gorgeous!” They all looked about, admiring the view. A marble and sandstone villa stretched out in front of them. “Best working vacation ever.”

“When have you ever taken a vacation, working or otherwise?”

“Camping is a vacation,” Harry told her.

She stared at him in horror, “That farce absolutely does not count as a vacation in any shape or form.” Harry simply shrugged. “No, just no.” She stepped onto the veranda and changed the subject by calling for the head house elf, “Aurie.”

A house elf dressed in a pillowcase toga instantly appeared, “Welcome, my lady, how can Aurie be serving?”

“Would you lower the wards so my associates can enter via portkey?”

“Certainly, my lady.” When Hermione felt the wards shift she sent Peregrine a message on his coin that everything was ready.

Moments later Peregrine, Orene, and Thorfinn arrived. Hermione added the research group to the wards with her own little twist. She smiled to herself, saying nothing about it to the others. Aurie gestured to the luggage, “Shall Aurie take up the belongings, my lady?”

She removed the other bags from her little bag and placed them with the rest. “Yes, please. Remus and his son will not be staying overnights, but Teddy will be needing a room to use for nap time. Narcissa can help you with the details.”

“As my lady wishes.”

Thorfinn addressed Narcissa, “I will be returning with you most evenings.”

She nodded, “Make sure either Remus or myself knows when so you're not accidentally left behind.” She looked over to Peregrine, “Are you returning as well?”

“No, Yaxley wants daily reports, and Hermione has to approve them, it will be less time-consuming to work from here. And it grants more downtime.”

Narcissa looked over to Orene. “Don't worry about me,” she patted her satchel. “I plan to sleep as little as possible over the next two weeks.”

“Orene, you know you have dibs on whatever topic and materials you want, right?” Hermione asked.

“Of course, but how can I choose if I don't know every possibility?”

Hermione shook her head, “Touche, just don't make yourself ill.”

“I won't,” the black haired woman promised.

“Aurie will arrange chambers for my lady and her guests. If my lady's chamberlain will follow.” He looked expectantly at Narcissa.

She took Teddy from Remus, “That's us, little man. Lead on.”

Another, smaller elf approached, “Greetings, my lady, I is being Calli. I is to be your personal elf.” The tiny creature looked so proud of herself, Hermione loved her instantly. “How can I serve you?”

“We could use a tour, please.” She told her. “How cute is she?” she whispered to Harry.

He nodded at her in agreement, “So cute.”

Calli proudly showed them around the estate. A rough staircase cut into the cliffs leading down to the white sand beach next to the grotto opening. The marble veranda overlooked the cliffs and surrounded a sparkling swimming pool. White loungers offered sunny seating.

The veranda led into the house's social areas, a large sitting area, dining room, and spacious kitchen. Several elves paused their work to greet Hermione. Upstairs they encountered Aurie who pointed out the rooms designated for each person. He also directed Hermione to the master suite. A massive purple linen-covered bed dominated the room. A wardrobe, vanity table, and dresser resembled trees and flowering vines thanks to delicate carvings. Gauzy purple curtains fluttered in the sea breeze. Calli skipped across the room, “My lady has hers own balcony with a table for Calli's to bring my lady's breakfast. See?”

Dutifully, Hermione stepped out on the stone balcony. A round wooden table with three curved benches waited for plates of food in the morning sun. “I can't wait. Thank you, Calli.” The house elf beamed proudly. Hermione took a moment to notify Marcus they arrived safely.

She returned the gold coin to her pocket and addressed the group, “Let's dive into the treasures, shall we?”

Over lunch, Harry asked the question that had been swirling in his head most of the morning. “Why do the elves here call Hermione my lady instead of mistress?”

Narcissa smiled, “They and their families have served Circe's descendants for generations. A witch of Circe's standing would have insisted to be addressed as my lady, hence the form address being taught down the generations.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.”

Remus, Teddy, Narcissa, and Thorfinn departed as the rest of them sat down for dinner. Orene read throughout the entire meal, flipping through the book eagerly. Peregrine drafted his report for Hermione's review. Harry smiled at Hermione across the table. “Anything catch your attention?”

“The theory behind the elemental magic in the family grimoires.
Those will be coming home with me.”

“Because studying the theory gives you a base to make the magic more powerful.”

“Exactly,” Hermione grinned primly.

“See? I retained something useful,” he joked. “I know you have Remus, and I'm along to keep me safe while the aurors report I'm no longer wanted for questioning, but can I do something to help?”

“You're going to help me explore the grotto.”

“Awesome,” Harry took a big bite of his lamb.

“I thought you might like that idea.”

“I also like the idea of not having to listen to anyone having sex.”

“Oh, is this a bad time to tell you Marcus is coming tonight?”

Harry stared at her in shock, searching her face in horror for any sign she was joking. Hermione cocked an eyebrow. “You're kidding, right? Come on, Mione, tell me you're joking.”

Peregrine chuckled, “Relax, Potter, your room is across the house. They can't be that loud.”

“You can if you cast a sonorous charm above the bed,” Hermione informed them primly.

Harry sputtered as Peregrine laughed, “Warn me if I'm ever starting to hack you off.” He shoved the parchment at Hermione. “For your perusal.” She read it over and added a note of her own before returning it. He read it aloud, “'Hermione has them. They are hers. She does not share. Push it and she'll show you them up close and personal.' Good enough for me.”

“This war needs to end before we start delving into destructive magic again.”

“Fair,” Peregrine began eating.

The next morning Harry joined Remus and Hermione in the library. Hermione set him to sorting her chosen books by element while she and Remus scoured the shelves for hidden gems. At the back of the library, Orene searched the stacks for something to catch her fancy. They worked in companionable silence for several hours before Aurie interrupted. “Pardons, my lady, there are visitors at the gates.”

“And they are refusing to leave after you informed them we are not receiving visitors and want them to go away?”

“My lady is being so smarts. They insists they have business.”

Hermione sighed, “Would you collect Thorfinn and Peregrine for me. Nothing like a show of force, let's go.” She lead the other three from the library, casting a translate spell as they went down.

Outside the estate gates waited five wizards, dark hair gleaming in the sunlight. They perked up when Hermione paused just inside the wards on her side of the gate. She stared silently, waiting for them to state their business. Four heartbeats later the eldest smiled warmly, “Miss Lestrange, greetings! I am Christos Savvos, these
are my brothers and cousins: Georgio, Nikolaos, Hector, and Angelos. We are here because our many times grandfather left barrels of a unique magical nature and did not collect them before Elena Astraea passed childless, sealing the estate.”

“Why were the barrels left here in the first place? And why weren't they collect right after she passed?” Hermione asked in perfect Greek. When Christos stuttered, she cut him off. “Present my associate with proof of ownership and the number of barrels within two days and we can discuss my storage fees.”

“Fees?” exploded one of them. “For returning stolen property?”

“Prove it was stolen,” she shot back. She whipped out her crystal wand. “I am not some idiotic child you can bully. Leave now. You have two days to prove ownership and amount of barrels.” She spun around leaving five shocked Greeks behind her.

Just after lunch, they were disturbed again, this time by a handful of Greek aurors and a ministry official. Thorfinn spoke to them while Hermione left them cooling their heels at the gate. He tried not to laugh at their annoyance when she refused to allow them in. Again she forced the interlopers to speak first. “Miss Lestrange, the Savvos family claims you threatened them when they came to claim the stolen property. Mr. Rowle assured us that wands were only drawn when the wizards became belligerent, so we can ignore that.” He gave her an indulgent smile. “That leaves the matter of the stolen items.” The official looked at her expectantly.

“Prove it,” she crossed her arms over her chest.

“What?” the man looked confused.

“Prove the barrels were, in fact, stolen. Prove that the Savvos family isn't just thinking they can take what they want through trickery and lies. As far as I am concerned those are my barrels and they will remain my barrels. Should that prove not to be the case I will be charging them a storage fee for leaving the property on my estate grounds.” One of the aurors frowned and opened his mouth. “Threaten me in any manner over this issue, but especially in a manner that suggests I am wrong to demand complete strangers present evidence of their right to take my belongings, and I will close the estate, leave, and never return. Then I will release a statement to the international press explaining why the Isla de Ponza will remain closed to all intellectual pursuits for the next three hundred years.”

The official reared back like she had punched him, “You wouldn't?”

“Try me. I will not be bullied. I will not be taken advantage of or swindled. The Savvos family has two days to prove ownership and quantity owned. Good day.”

Thorfinn followed, “Damn, Flint said you were feisty, but that was next level.”

“You and Peregrine find those barrels, replicate them and send the originals to Yaxley for identification. They want them badly, so we'll start looking at reverse-engineering them and flood the Greek market,” she smirked.

“You are evil,” Thorfinn regarded her in awe.

“I refuse to be the world's doormat.”

“I see that, very impressive.”

“The nerve of those people thinking they can intimidate me because I'm young and foreign.”

“And female,” Thorfinn added. She glared at him, cold fire flashing through her eyes. “Their mistake, not mine,” he held his hands up in surrender. “I understand Corbin's obsession with making sure no one else steals you for their department.”

“I have no intention of working for the ministry.”

“I know, but if you do, Corbin wants it to be with him.”

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance, “Don't you have something to be doing right now?”

He saluted her, “Yes, ma'am.”

She penned a note to Rodolphus asking him to look into how anyone knew she was in Greece on the island, especially people like the Savvos family. Someone was spying on her and she did not like it one bit. She asked Yaxley to look into the barrels and let her know why they wanted them so badly.

He sent her three feet of parchment denoting the excitement over the barrels. They were ever filling and kept an internal chilled temperature. According to historians, a Portuguese wizard created them during the Age of Exploration. Most believed the method of construction was lost forever due to its lack of use with the invention of ice boxes and cooling cabinets. Anger flooded Hermione, somehow that family knew there were some there and preserved, and they planned to steal them from her.

Rodolphus, and by extension Lord Voldemort, promised to discover the spying method. Setting the matter aside she focused on her project. She returned to the library, Remus, Harry, and their sorting. Orene found a collection of personal journals covering the last descendants living on the estate. She would spend the remaining time making copies to handle. Then she would begin cataloging the library for Hermione.

Late that evening the Athens Gringotts requested an audience. Aurie escorted a flustered human and agitated goblin. “A thousand pardons, Miss Lestrange, it has been discovered that a human employee has been snooping to impress her boyfriend. She was most distressed that Elena Astraea's records show her purchase of the barrel. Her attempt to destroy them along with your father's inquires allowed us to piece together what was occurring. She will be demoted and reparations will be made,” the goblin told her.

“Thank you. Next week Harry and I will be exploring the Grotto. Would you supply curse breakers and restoration specialists? I would be willing to consider us even.”

Looking relieved the goblin agreed and handed her a certified copy of the purchase records, “Send word when you wish to begin.” The Gringotts group departed in a lighter mood than they arrived in. Thorfinn summoned an auror and gave them a copy of the documents. One look at Hermione's face had him promising that the matter would be settled quickly with this evidence debunking their claims.

Hermione warded and concealed the bottom of the staircase to protect the privacy of the household. The large cavern curved in a circle. The sea came in spraying the rock ledges with salty water at high tide. “I have no idea how anyone lived in here, but she did,” Hermione remarked, pointing out the fireplace markings and pottery remains.

“Very carefully, that's how,” Harry told her.

The Gringotts employees looked around excitedly, “Please ensure nothing has been booby-trapped. Let me know if you find anything extraordinary,” she instructed. “I want to preserve Circe's home and workspace as much as possible.”

“We want to thank you for preserving our shared heritage, your family, and our culture,” one wizard shook her hand.
“You're welcome. I know some of my conditions seem harsh, but I don't want treasure hunters and con artists descending and stealing that away.”

“We're happy to hear that,” another said.

Allow the Gringotts team space to work, Hermione and Harry explored the white sand beach outside of the grotto. One side of the cave opened directly out to the sea. The other led to the beach. “You should get a little boat, Hermione,” Harry remarked tossing a pebble into the water.

She responded by kicking off her shoes and wading ankle-deep, “I like how the rocks form this little cove. Perfect for swimming.”

“Like someone designed it.”

“Give the contents of the library, someone probably did.”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry joined her in the water, “still nice.”

“Agreed.” Impishly, she kicked water at Harry, soaking his shorts.

“You realize this means war?” Harry bent over and sent a wave of water at her.

“Bring it, Daffy.”

“I am not Daffy Duck. You take that back.” For the next ten minutes, the teenagers frolicked in the water like they were eleven again. Laughing, they collapsed on the beach soaked to the skin.

“You're still Daffy,” Hermione laughed.

“What I am is still covered in sand. It is everywhere. I'll be finding it for the next week,” complained Harry.

“Oh, silly Daffy,” she said as she pulled her wand. “If only we had a way to clean it up, you know, like magic.” She laughed at his chagrin expression.

“It's nice to hear you laugh, you don't laugh enough, you never did.”

“It's nice to laugh. It no longer feels like the fate of the world is on my shoulders. If I don't know what to do, it doesn't matter.”

“Because I don't have to figure things out without any real information,” Harry told her.

“Why the fuck couldn't he just tell you what to do and how to find the horcruxes? Why couldn't we tell anyone?”

“I don't know. And I don't think I care, either. That is over, we're moving forward.” He squeezed her hand.

“Yes, yes we are.”

On the last day of restorations, Georgio Savvos snuck in disguised as a Gringotts employee. When he tried to leave with one of the decoy barrels his face erupted in painful boils in the form of the word 'thief' across his face. Hermione refused to tell the aurors how to heal them, remarking that actions have consequences. She informed Gringotts that she saw them as the injured party and had her justice.

-oOoOo-

Gavin Robards stood in front of the assembled press in the atrium. He hated this part of the job. “Your attention, ladies and gentlemen of the press.” More like vultures he thought. “I will be reading a prepared statement. There will be no questions. Yesterday, Harry James Potter was questioned in regards to the death of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Thanks to Mr. Potter's testimony we now know the events of that evening and can close this case. Headmaster Dumbledore was murdered by Austin Gibbons during a scuffle on the top of the Astronomy Tower. He was hit by a curse that sent him hurtling off the edge unconscious. Gibbons also perished during these events. Mr. Potter is no longer a person of interest and is free to return to his life as desired. Thank you.” Robards fled as fast as he could while looking
like he was not.

Arthur Weasley shook his head, the official story was that Harry was free to go, but the lad had not returned to the Burrow, meaning he was still being held somewhere against his will. Also concerning was the Lupins and Shacklebolt's lack of passion to find him. They didn't seem overly worried that the hope of the wizarding world was missing. Tonks had even pointed out that just because they didn't know where he was didn't mean he was missing in the dangerous way. He would reappear when he was ready and not a second before.

Ron did not take the news well. He raved and raged for an hour that this was Luna Lovegood's fault, calling her horrible names and making numerous threats about what they should do to make her talk. Arthur felt alarmed at his youngest son's words and the fact that his wife was not doing anything to defuse the situation. Ginny stared into the flames of the fireplace, distracted by her deep thoughts. The Weasley Patriarch's heart sank when he realized he had no clue how to help, and felt like his family was coming apart slowly at the seams.

Chapter Text

Chapter 37 Greetings

Hermione spread the inventories across the dining room table. Household items, decorations, an alphabetized list of the contents of the library, only the barrels had proven to be the only magical discovery of note. She expected historians to be lining up in hopes of viewing the remaining belongings of Circe. She made notes of the topics covered by the library to cut down on future entry attempts by those that just wanted to nose around. Honestly, she was inventing busy work to keep herself occupied until Marcus finished training for the day.

Apprehensive the two would not make it from the room they met in, let alone up the stairs to their room, Harry made plans to visit the Longbottoms for dinner. “I may stay the night just to be safe,” he told her half kidding.

The grandfather clock chimed 6:30 when Hermione heard the front door open. She ran to meet Marcus, leaping the last three feet at him. He caught her easily, supporting her weight as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She kissed him urgently. “Missed you, missed you, missed you,” she repeated between kisses.

“I missed you, too. Wonderful to see you. How was your trip?” he asked peppering her neck with kisses and nibbles.

“Later. Talk later, sexy time first.”

“Thank fuck.”

“Yes, that exactly. Now, please.” She pulled his earlobe into her mouth and sucked on it. Hard.

With a groan that morphed into a moan, Marcus began carrying her toward the stairs. “This would be quicker if you allowed apparation in the house.”

“Nope,” she ran her hands under his shirt, caressing his bare skin. “No popping about. Rude.” They made it halfway up the staircase before a gentle grazing of fingers tickled the wrong spot and he lost his balance. He twist to take the brunt of the fall and sat with her straddling his lap. “Close enough.” Hermione began unbuttoning his trousers. Agreeing with her, Marcus pulled her t-shirt over her head and removed her shorts. The sounds of tugging on clothing and grunts punctuated the removal of the minimum required clothing. Sinking, Hermione reveled in the feeling of fullness before rising to sink back down. She set a slow teasing pace, hands on his shoulders for balance. “Oh, my gods I missed this.”

“You feel even more amazing than I remembered,” he moaned. “Faster, please. I need...” Her increase in pace cut off the end of his sentence. “Sweet Salazar.” He tried to grip her hips or waist, but couldn't reach with his forearms supporting them on the steps.

Panting heavily, Hermione squeezed her muscles tightly while rocking her hips back and forth, chasing her rapidly building release. She crashed over the edge, screaming his name and digging her nails into his shoulders. Slumped forwards, resting her head on his shoulders, she panted, “Hmmm, give me a second.”

He wrapped his arms around her and stood. He climbed the last six steps to the landing. Bracing her back against the wall, Marcus drove back into her with enough force to shake the picture frames on the wall. She moaned against his neck, “Ah, oh, oh fuuuuccckkk, MARCUS!” She came hard for a second time, taking him with her.

They sank to the floor, “Wow,” Marcus pulled her onto his lap. “That was, that was something.”

“Harry was right to be somewhere else tonight,” she laughed, trying to calm her breathing.

“We have the house to ourselves? Where else do you want to shag?”

“Right now? Nowhere, I need a few minutes.”

He grimaced, “Too rough?”

“Not at all,” she caressed his cheek, “perfectly rough. But I want to enjoy the alone time that isn't sex, too, you know?”

“Yes. Let's find some clothes, have dinner and you can tell me all about your trip.”

“I want to hear about training, too.”

He grinned and swatted her behind, “And by then I will have recovered enough to properly shag you rotten in the bed.” She giggled and playfully swatted at him.

Narcissa invited Hermione and Harry to breakfast. She indicated in her invitation that Harry needed to start socializing if he wanted to join Voldemort's regime. Draco, Theo, Vanessa, and Daphne Greengrass were serving themselves when they arrived. Lucius greeted them with a nod. They joined the meal in progress. Harry mentioned a few of the topics they discussed the night before, “I still have a few questions, Mr. Longbottom mentioned I should probably publicly cut ties with Ginny because of the potions. Why?”

“You would be declaring that you did not willingly consent to anything that transpired between the two of you,” Lucius told him.

“And you are not responsible for any consequences,” Draco added.
Seeing Hermione's scowl, Narcissa cut in, “Witches may do the same thing, forcing the wizard to bear the brunt of child rearing.”

“Conversely,” remarked Lucius, “the wronged party can take sole custody of the child without rights for the other. The choice is theirs.”

Hermione continued to frown, “Seems unfair to the baby.”

“An imperfect system, I admit, but it also protects the victim from being pressured to marry the person who violated their trust, mind, and body. Couple that with the precious nature of magical offspring meaning that the termination of pregnancy is highly frowned upon. Or not be able to pay for said child.”

“I suppose, that's fair, it is a no win scenario.”

“And if Potter fathered a child with the She Weasel, by breaking with her he could still raise the baby if he wanted to, he just wouldn't have to deal with her,” pointed out Theo.

“Because if he didn't, that happened, and he didn't agree to marry her, the Weasleys could petition to force the union. Even if that didn't work, until the baby was born and paternity is proven, he would have to support her,” Vanessa added to the conversation.

“Before you ask, that means to buy her a house, furnish it, buy every item the baby needs, provide nourishment, and give Weaselette a stipend. By the time Baby Weasel pops out, Weaselette is ensconced in the house, one Potter has to pay for the entire time it takes to get her out. Actually, he keeps paying everything until he can get a judgment ending it. This can take years. And then, once he's paid for close to a decade of their lives, when it is over the Weaselette doesn't have to pay back a dime,” Draco explained.

“During all that time what does Ginny pay for?” Hermione asked.

“Not a damn thing,” Daphne told her.

“That's deplorable,” Hermione was stunned.

“And that's why, while drastic, people in Harry's position formally cut witches and wizards like Ginny,” Draco said. “And no one has any idea if she's pregnant, but it is next to impossible to do once he knows.”

“If you know you've had anything close to a non-consensual relationship it is the best thing to do.”

Harry ate in silence for the rest of the meal. As the tables were being cleared, he turned to Hermione, “I know it seems cruel to a hypothetical baby, but if it occurs and is mine, I can raise it without her. I don't want to give her the free ride she's trying to manipulate me into. I'm going to look out for me.”

“Good for you, Mr. Potter, since the imaginary child everyone is fixated on is not the only concern. Without a statement showing her improper behavior, and your disapproval of them, if she could prove you had been intimate she could push for matrimony under the old social codes.”

Harry nodded, “Yeah, that is not happening. What do I do?” Lucius instructed him on the steps to take.

Voldemort made a brief appearance with Bellatrix at his side. “Good morning, all. What has you looking so pensive, my dear?” he asked Hermione.

“Just wondering which one would react more, Rodolphus or Marcus if I told them I wanted to enact the old ways and force Marcus to marry me.”

After a brief surprised pause, Bellatrix burst out laughing, startling Daphne. “Oh, my darling girl, you are precious. I love it,” she clapped her hands. “And the answer is Roddy.”

Narcissa shook her head, “That boy adores you, do not torment him like that.”

“I didn't say I would do it, I just wondered,” she smiled. “Well, I'm off to oversee last minute wedding prep for tomorrow. You all have fun.”

Luna hung the hand-sewn linen robes on the front of her closet. “They look perfect, Hermione, thank you.”

“You did half the work, Luna. But they do look beautiful.” She ran her hand over the embroidered flowers and swirls.

“This time in two days I'll be leaving for a short honeymoon as Mrs. Graham Montague.”

“Luna Montague has a nice ring to it,” Hermione told her.

“It does,” Luna smiled.

Hermione checked the list, “Robes, finished. Graham has the rings. The only thing remaining is the floral ropes and crowns. The florist scheduled their delivery for tomorrow afternoon. That gives us two hours to weave them.”

“Plenty of time,” Luna told her. “And if they fail us, there are suitable blossoms in the garden.”

“And then Narcissa helps me destroy their business,” Hermione grinned. “Does Mrs. Montague need any help?”

“I checked, she's more prepared than you would be.”

“High praise, indeed,” Hermione chuckled. “So we're done?”

“Until the daisy chains tomorrow,” chirped Luna.

“So, spa day?” asked Hermione.

Luna bounced on her heels, “Yes, spa day.”

Tucked into a corner of Diagon Alley Avalon's Delights pampered both witches and wizards, offering herbal soaks, massages, facials, nail care, hair care, and hairdressing. Best of all, they kept open slots for walk-in appointments. Anyone could decide they wanted the works at the drop of the hat, well, provided they had the money for the works. The hostess recognized Hermione from a previous visit with Narcissa. With bright eyes and a genuine smile, she approached them, “Welcome to Avalon's Delights, how can we relax you today?”

“My friend here is getting married tomorrow, so we're here for everything but getting our hair fixed.”

The hostess's smile brightened, “Congratulations! Would you like to use
your previous preferences, Hermione?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Do you have a profile, miss?” she asked Luna.

“Uh, no, I don't.”

The hostess's smile did the impossible and brightened further, “I'll get you a form. We can get started once you finish it.” With Hermione's assistance, Luna made her selections quickly. Giggling she signed it Luna Montague. To their mild annoyance, the hostess took it, briefly ignoring a group of patrons piling in the door. “Thank you, ladies. I'll get you set up right away.” She turned to the group that had just entered. “I will be right with you.”

The group of five girls grumbled amongst themselves that they had appointments and shouldn't have them wait on others. Hermione fought to keep from smirking at their glares as they were ushered through the doors of the changing room. “If you would change into your robes, Melody will be right with you to begin your experience.”

“Thank you,” Luna beamed as she began stripping off her clothes to change.”

The other group joined them almost instantly. Chattering animatedly about their plans for the evening. It seemed all five were devout quidditch fans, they weighed the pros and cons of various pubs and clubs for the evening. They seemed rather knowledgeable about the social habits of numerous players. Which increased during the off-season. “Tiffany said she heard Graham Montague is having his stag party tonight. We need to find out where that is.” The others chimed in their agreement.
Luna frowned, “Well who can relax now?”

Hermione smiled and whispered, “Don't worry about it.” In a louder voice, “So, we have our choice of the tickets the boys got for the first round, or Uncle Lucius offered his private box. Honestly, I'm leaning towards the box, personally.”

“But they're so excited about the tickets,” Luna protested.

“I know,” Hermione glances over at the gaggle, they looked annoyed as the witches causally discussed having two options for such sought-after tickets. She slipped off her jeans and pulled her shirt over her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the girls elbow the other and indicate her scars. “War is hell, keep staring and I will show you firsthand,” she told them in a cold dead tone. Instantly all of them found a different point of the room fascinating.

Hermione slipped on her robe as Melody, a perky redhead, bounced into the room. “Hermione? And you must be Luna? Welcome, would you please follow me?”

They followed her from the changing room into a room filled with soaking tubs. Hermione smiled at Luna as they climbed in, “You can relax. Graham's stag party is going to Pucey's for boys' night poker. Those harpies aren't getting anywhere near them tonight.”

Melody must have done her best to stall the other group as long as possible, as they did not enter the tub room for twenty minutes. Though they were still trying to guess where the stag party would be. “Montague's mates with Pucey, Flint, and those other two Slytherin hotties,” one remarked climbing into her tub.

“Where does Pucey like to party? I bet he's organizing.”

“Hmm, I see him a lot at Jubilation,” the tallest girl answered. “They give out free shots for stag and hen parties.”

“I never thought to ask, do you want a hen do?” Hermione pointed her foot at Luna.

The blonde shrugged, “They put off the stag because of training and having plenty of recovery time tomorrow.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“I don't have a lot of female friends,” Luna said sadly.

“Me, Vanessa, Alex, Nora,” Hermione ticked off people on her fingers. “I bet Draco, Blaise, Theo, Neville, or Harry would come with us, too.”

“We don't have to,” she replied softly.

“And now we so are.”

“Do you think you can organize something on such short notice?”

“I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that,” Hermione sniffed.

Melody popped in at that point to transition them to their massages. Hermione sent off invitations and inquiries and notified Melody they wished to add hairdressing and cosmetic services. By the time they moved onto facials and nail care, all three women had confirmed, and the men had all agreed to consider it. They had questions.

Nora, Vanessa, and Alexandria met them at the salon to get their hair done. Then Hermione insisted they raid her closet at the Hall for outfits. Vanessa looked excited, “Muggle clothes, Sweet Merlin, so daring. I love it!”

Blaise whistled when the ladies entered the room, “Damn, are any of you single anymore?”

Alexandria laughed, “Not for you.”

Harry looked at Hermione, “You're wanting us to come along as a buffer, aren't you?”

“Yep.”

Draco looked confused, “A buffer for what?”

“If anyone gets too pushy, or something, you step in and help get rid of them. Especially if we've been drinking heavily.”

Luna, dressed in white with a tiny lace veil on her head, grinned at them, “And we will be drinking. The club gives out free shots to hen dos.”

Harry looked at Neville, who sighed, “Team Gryffindor reporting for bodyguard duty.”

Luna gave them both a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you.”

Draco looked at Blaise, “We're in, but Theo doesn't like those places.”

“I really don't,” Theo admitted.

“We understand,” Vanessa assured him with a hand on the shoulder. She looked at Hermione, “Now we party at Jubilation?”

“Now we party.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 38 Stag Parties and Hen Dos

After learning Luna would also be having a hen party, Graham suggested having dinner before going their separate ways. Luna eagerly agreed, suggesting a restaurant across from Jubilation. Hermione snickered quietly knowing Luna's thinking. Word would spread across the jersey chaser gossip chain. They would then conduct their wild goose chase in front of the hen party. The group flooed to the Leaky and walked to the restaurant. A brisk winter breeze swept down the alleyway, tearing Hermione's hair from its pins. Harry reached into his coat pocket and handed her a hair clip.

Adrian looked confused, “Potter, why do you have a barrette in your coat pocket?”

“I, uh, grabbed it from my vault the other day for Hermione. I forgot it was in there.”

Glancing at Marcus nervously, Blaise asked, “Why would you want to give Lestrange a Potter heirloom?”

“She's stood by me all these years, even when I wasn't a very good friend. She had every right to walk away, but she didn't. She's more than a best friend, she's family. I wanted to give her something to express that,” Harry shrugged.

Hermione stopped walking, “That is so sweet, Harry.” She hugged him tightly, then turned to Marcus, “ Put this in my hair, please?”

“Okay, but no complaining when it looks like crap.” He took the clip from her and fixed it in her hair.

“I won't, promise. Thank you,” she stood on her toe tips and kissed his cheek.

Once dinner finished the two groups broke apart. Graham and Luna snogged farewell, while Marcus gave Hermione a calmer tip. “Have fun. Be careful.”

“Always. Try not to lose your shirt. Love you.”

Draco led the hen party past the velvet ropes to the bouncer at the front door. The large man instantly recognized Malfoy, Zabini, and Lestrange. Before Draco said a word, the man gestured for them to enter, “Welcome to Jubilation.”

“Thank you,” Luna smiled. Hermione waved at the girls they encountered at the spa as they wanted in line.

The bass vibrated against her chest, as Luna grinned at her excitedly, “Let's dance.” She grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto the dance floor, the rest of the girls following on their heels. Blaise joined them, while Draco, Harry, and Neville held back, watching from a table near the dance floor. The girls flitted from the table, the bar, and the dance floor. Sweaty gyrations dehydrated them quickly. Wisely, Hermione drank glasses of water between her alcoholic ones. As the hours passed, they drifted further apart. Luna and Nora swayed together, holding one another up. Vanessa and Alexandria teamed up to torment Blaise by focusing their attention on Harry and Neville. Hermione took a break and watched over the table while Draco flirted with several girls a few tables away. She people watched while sipping her water. In her tipsy state, she failed to notice the manipulation magic as it took hold. “Come along now, there's a good girl.” Her eyes glazed over, she stood silently and followed.

Luna skipped over to the table for a drink. She stopped, squinted, and looked around, surprised to find it empty. She stumbled over the Draco, “Where's Hermione?”

“At the table?”

“No, she's not. I looked twice.”

“Have you checked the restroom?” he asked.

Her face brightened, “The bathroom! I can do that.” Luna zipped off, only to return soberer and more concerned. “She isn't on there, Draco. And some girl said she saw her leaving with a man.”

Eyes wide in fright, Draco gathered their group, the panic quickly burning the alcohol from their systems. Harry instantly took charge of the situation, “Which girl, Luna?” The blonde indicated a mousy looking brunette sitting in a booth near the bathroom. He strode towards her. “Hi, my name is Harry, you told my friend you saw our other friend leave with some guy?”

“Yeah, a little bit ago. Is she okay?” she looked stricken.

“We don't know. Can you tell me what you saw?”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, “Um, okay. He walked up behind her, said something, and then she got up and followed him out.”

“Were you close enough to see her face? Did her expression look odd?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, she looked a little blank.”

Harry wildly gestured for the others to join them, “What did he look like?”

“He, uh, looked older than her. Kind of Continental in dress, you know, suit and vest combo thing? Shaggy dark brown hair. Walked like sex on a stick. Kind of wild, you just know he's a dangerous bad boy,” she looked embarrassed, “Sorry, that got away from me.”

“No problem,” Harry assured her, “thank you, that was most helpful.”

“I hope you find her and she's okay.”

“Thanks,” Harry called over his shoulder as they exited the club.

Draco ran his hands through his hair, “Sounds like Greyback.”

“Fenrir?” asked Neville.

“Pavel, his nephew. He's obsessed and won't take no for an answer,” Luna replied.

Blaise looked about clearly panicking, “What do we do? Who should we tell?”

Luna frowned, “He's been told repeatedly by numerous powerful people to leave her alone. He'd take her somewhere secure and hard for wizards to follow.”

“The pack grounds,” Draco growled, “the Dark Lord promised to allow them to ward against even his followers. That would give him extra time to wear her down and get her to agree to things.”

“Blaise, you go tell Marcus. Draco, go tell your parents so they can tell Voldemort. Luna, go tell Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange. We'll meet near the grounds,” Harry ordered. He took Hermione's bag and coat from Luna. “Let's move, people.”

-oOoOo-

Blaise apparated directly into Pucey's living room interrupting Cassius as he gloated over a big win. “Greyback kidnapped Hermione. We think he took her to the pack.” Five men jumped to their feet. Silently the six of them popped away.

-oOoOo-

Draco raced through the manor yelling, “Father! Mother!”

Lucius appeared in the hallway, “Draco, why on earth are you making such a racket?”

“Pavel Greyback just abducted Hermione from the club.”

“I will notify the Dark Lord immediately. Come.” He led his son down the hall to Voldemort's rooms. He knocked politely and opened the door when bid to enter. “My lord, forgive the intrusion, Draco just informed me Pavel Greyback has abducted Hermione from the club tonight.”

Voldemort's face contorted in fury, “How?”

“She was sitting at the table, he came up behind her and she followed him out. We suspect he took her to the pack. We're meeting there.” Draco began to nervously ramble. He liked his spunky cousin and hoped they got her back before Greyback damaged her beyond repair.

“This affront cannot go unpunished. Is someone informing Rodolphus and Bella?”

“Luna, Graham's fiancee.”

“Very good. Let us go join them.”

-oOoOo-

Luna burst into Lestrange Hall and began screaming at the top of her lungs, “Greyback took Hermione! You have to help her!” Rodolphus and Rabastan ran into the room. “He took her to the pack. We have to go get her.”

Both men agreed, but before they could say or do anything, Bellatrix swept down the stairs. She grabbed both their hands, “Grab the girl,” she snapped before twisting them away.

-oOoOo-

Harry, Neville, Vanessa, and Alexandria landed on the edge of a wooded area. Across a meadow, large wooden fences marked the boundary of the werewolf enclave. Fires glowed in the darkness inside. Neville held up his hand and sighed. “It will take hours to take down all of these wards.”

“Hermione doesn't have hours,” Vanessa protested. A shrill pain filled scream came from within the walls.

“We can't just knock on the gate and ask to come in. If no one in there cares that he's hurting her, no one will care if she's rescued,” Harry shot back. “We have to think so something.”

Alexandria snapped her fingers, “You gave her Potter family jewelry. A family elf could take you to her,” she grinned.

“Except I haven't met any Potter elves.”

Neville's eyes lit up, “Kreacher! He's your elf and a Black elf. Hermione's a Black, It may be enough of a connection. Call him.”

“Kreacher? Kreacher, I need you.”

The ancient elf appeared, “Master summoned Kreacher?”

“Yes, the werewolves kidnapped Hermione. I need you to take me to her, please.” Wordlessly Kreacher grabbed Harry's hand and whisked him away.

-oOoOo-

The stomach flipping sensation of the side along apparation drove off the cobwebs in her mind. Facing Pavel Greyback, Hermione sneered at the dirt floor and dark stained wood walls. “Slumming are we?”

“Silence, witch. You'll learn to love pack living.”

“Doubt it.”

He backhanded her causing her to stumble back. She wiped the blood from her face, “That was pathetic. I know toddlers that can hit harder.”

Pavel balled up his fist, then dropped it, “No, no. I don't want to physically damage you. Mustn't maim the mother of my cubs.”

“The mother of your spawn? I don't think so. That is so not happening. Ever.”

“Don't make any rash statements you might regret later. Like calling our children spawn.”

“Fuck off,” she spit at him.

Wiping his cheek clean he bared his teeth, “I see we need to start working on manners and respecting our betters. Crucio.” Every nerve in her body burned. All coherent thought fled. She felt her limbs spasm. She surrendered control of her body, choosing to protect her mind, by dropping into a meditative thought process. Vaguely she heard herself scream. The pain cut off as quickly as it started. She came back to herself, finding Pavel looming over her. “Now what were we discussing?”

“How repugnant I find you, fleabag.” He hit her again briefly with the torture spell. “And how I will never willingly have sex with you.”

He held her under long the third time, “I don't need you sane to breed you, so, I advise you to watch your mouth.”

“Where's the fun in that?” she croaked. “If you're
going to rape me repeatedly, I don't want to be sane, thank you very much.”

Pavel's eyes glowed silver, he growled deep in his chest. “Is that so?” he leaned over her menacingly. “Maybe we should make sure you're lucid at least once.” He grabbed the top of her dress and ripped it open. A flash of blue light flung him away from her.

“Or maybe you could learn to fucking listen. The lady said no. It means no.” Harry strode into the hut, his face a mask of barely suppressed rage. “Bombarda.” Pavel crashed into the wall.

Hermione struggled to her feet. She took a few ragged breaths, “Thank you.”

“I told you I was trying to be a better friend.” He held open her beaded bag, “Summon your wand.”

“Accio wand. You will be pleased to hear I think your behavior demonstrates the definition of a best friend.”

“Why thank you, Hermione.”

She brandished her crystal wand, the cold stone warming in her hand. Pavel groaned on the floor. She turned and walked over to him. “You are disgusting.” She kicked him in the face twice. “Your line shouldn't continue.” She whipped out her wand downward. A pink light slammed into his crotch. Blood spread across his trousers. A hoarse scream issued from his mouth.

“What would you have done?” cried a rough voice from behind Harry.

“Castrated a feral beast,” Hermione replied in a hard voice, “ending his reign of terror over women.”

“Fenrir will kill you when he finds out,” the cowering man whined.

“Then don't tell him,” Harry instructed.

“I can't, I can't do that,” the miserable worm ran from the building, yelling for guards and Fenrir.

Harry groaned, “You'd think, just once, the bad guys would agree this is stupid and just let us leave.”

“On the other hand, no one expects us to use prank hexes and defensive spells against monsters,” she gave him a mean little grin, her eyes wide and a little crazy. “Shall we go show them why we shouldn't be fucked with?”

“Yes, I think we should.” He bowed, gesturing towards the door, “Ladies first.”

“Why, thank you, good sir.” She swept out the makeshift door. Outside, werewolves ran about, some sought shelter from the coming conflict, others prepared to do battle advancing on the pair. Hermione cast a Sonorous charm on herself, “I, Hermione Lestrange, with my brother, Harry Potter, declare a vendetta against the Greyback Path. Any wishing to surrender should make their way to the west gate now. No mercy will be shown.” She canceled the spell. “Except to children. They are innocent victims.”

“Agreed. Now let's go scorch the earth.” Harry sent a fireball flying toward one of the snarling werewolves charging toward them. Hermione sent slicing hexes at the rest.

Children, most women, and a few men screamed in terror and began running west, fleeing the carnage. Seven years of pent-up anger, fear, and frustration boiled over in the two as they made their way through the enclave. No more worrying about not seriously hurting the people that wanted to kill them. The two did not limit themselves to defensive only spells like Dumbledore and the Order encouraged. The reason why Greyback and his spawn thought them weak. A burning werewolf ran into a hut, promptly catching it on fire. “Idiot,” Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes.

-oOoOo-

Outside the enclave walls, the assembled rescue party could hear fighting but were unable to ascertain what exactly was going on. Luna grabbed Graham's hand, “Do you smell smoke?”

“It'll be okay,” he consoled her, glancing nervously at his friend. Marcus stared at the wooden walls in horror as he assisted the others to disassemble the wards as fast as they could.

“Just overpower them,” Bellatrix finally snapped as she started blasting the wards. “We don't have time for finesse.”

-oOoOo-

Nearing the east gate, neither Harry nor Hermione paused in their destruction. Moaning, screaming bodies fell to the ground, bleeding. Some shattered having been frozen solid by Hermione. Harry favored the cutting curse and fireballs. A deep, rumbling growl of fury caught their attention, “Just what do you think you are doing?”

Years of working in tandem allowed them to turn in unison. Breathing heavily, transformed halfway between man and beast, Fenrir Greyback stood, eyes gleaming red. “We are enacting our vendetta against you. One of your pack wronged us with your blessing, I assume, and we are getting our vengeance,” Hermione answered using the kind of voice one uses to explain things to a small child.

“You dare to attack my pack on our lands? Lands promised to us by the Dark Lord, himself.”

“I owe no allegiance to your lord, nor does Hermione. And we are defending ourselves on the field of your choosing. You let her abductor bring her here, therefore we fight here.” Harry shot Snape's specialty at him. Fenrir threw himself to the side.

“Where is your honor, pups?” he howled. “Attacking with no warning, shameful.”

“This isn't a friendly duel,” Hermione told him. “This is war.” She made several slashing motions with her wand, encasing the alpha wolf in ice. “You were given multiple warnings. You and Pavel chose to ignore them.” He struggled to break out of his frozen prison. “Once you're dead we'll educate and liberate your pack, helping them become upstanding civilized citizens instead of savages living in filth,” she promised.

“Remus could be their new alpha,” suggested Harry.

“Oh, that's a good idea. I like that, don't you, Fenrir?” He growled as his beta and delta ran up to assist him. “Incoming. Let's finish this.” Rapid fire spells ended the lives of the alpha and his lieutenants. Hermione looked around the smoke filled lane. No one else emerged from the shadows. She lowered her wand. A wave of energy spread out. “That would be the wards dropping.”

Harry shot red sparks into the air, “That should summon the cavalry.”

“Good, the adrenaline is starting to fade. I can't keep my hands from shaking anymore.”

Pops of apparation surrounded them. Marcus and Rodolphus surged towards Hermione, Luna right behind them. Voldemort and Bellatrix approached Harry, “Mr. Potter,” Voldemort nodded, “Is there anyone still alive?”

Harry shrugged, “Anyone who didn't want to fight was told to go to the west gate, away from us.” He looked around, “Someone should put out those fires.”

Bellatrix looked around, “Is Greyback the lesser still alive?”

Harry shrugged, “Not sure, Mione kicked him in the face and cut off his dick, so who knows.”

She beamed proudly, “Hmm, I suppose I'll go check on him, shall I?”

“Don't use the AK,” Harry told her.

She looked surprised, “Why ever not?”

“He doesn't deserve a painless death. It should hurt. A lot. He tortured her.” Bellatrix narrowed her eyes and nodded her head once before striding away.

He looked at Voldemort, “We're not apologizing. Most members of this pack were feral monsters that needed to be put down.”

“Given the circumstances, I do not have an argument to stand on. They failed to follow orders or respect their fellows. They caused this fiasco.”

From somewhere between Marcus and Rodolphus Hermione yelled, “The ones that surrendered need medical care and basic necessities, like real fucking housing and running water.”

“You need medical attention, little dove,” Marcus told her sternly.

“I can't go to St Mungo's. Summon MacLellan. The authorities would be horrible to those people.”

Voldemort looked at Lucius, “Send someone to help wade through once Bella finishes looking for survivors. Get them healers and send Hermione the one she wants to the hall.”

“Certainly, my lord,” he departed instantly.

Rabastan patted his brother on the back, “Let's get our girl back home. And her hero.” He looked at Harry.

“I just returned many a favor and brought her her wand, which helped her shake off the shock. She helped with the rest.”

“Showers and medical attention for all,” Rodolphus announced. He glanced at Hermione looking small wrapped in Marcus's arms. He knew she was letting them fawn over her for their benefit. She needed minor healing spells and dreamless sleep. Above her head, Marcus caught his eye. He subtly offered to let Rodolphus take Hermione. He considered it briefly and shook his head no. Sooner, rather than later, he would be her primary support. With a nod, Marcus apparated her back to Lestrange Hall.

Chapter Text

Chapter 39 Traditional Weddings

Back at the hall, Peregrine notified Narcissa of Hermione's rescue. Ian MacLellan arrived shortly thereafter. He examined her asking a few questions about the experience. “You'll need to drink this potion twice daily for five days.”

“Better than after the Department of Mysteries,” she muttered.

“The tremors will continue for several days. And you'll tire easily. Be patient with yourself. I advise against hot water, lukewarm baths, or showers. Limit your magic as much as possible until you don't. You exerted a lot this evening in a weakened state.”

Hermione frowned, “Luna's wedding is tomorrow, I'm her witness.”

“That will be fine. But if someone attacks let the others conduct the defense. That goes for Mr. Potter as well. And I will have to report something of this to my superiors. Elemental magic is quite complicated, that the two of you used it so well over an extended time is incredible.”

“So long as everything remains somewhat classified, please. We are not guinea pigs.”

“As you wish,” he handed her a few vials of clear liquid. “Dreamless Sleep should you need it. And the tremors may get worse before they get better.”

“Anymore other bad news?” she sulked.

“No, but we could have been having a much worse conversation, so let's not complain too much.”

“Tsk, fine,” she grumbled.

Ian looked around the room, “We should clear out and let Miss Lestrange clean up and get some rest.”

Hermione smiled at everyone from her place on her bed as they wished her a good night on their way out, until only Marcus remained, “Do you want me to go, little dove?” He knelt next to the bed.

“No, please stay. Will you help me get cleaned up?”

“Bath or shower?” he asked quietly.

“With tepid water both sound horrible, so bath, then only one of us is miserable.”

Marcus called for Maisie, asking her to collect him a change of clothes and run a lukewarm bath. He collected his old jersey and a pair of her sleeping shorts, then assisted Hermione to disrobe. A few scratches and bruises covered her skin. She groaned, “Remind me to have Fred and George send me some of their bruise paste.”

“That good?”

“You'll never know I was ever bruised. I might be able to heal the scratches,” she gave him a little smile. He supported her weight as she stepped down into the sunken marble tub.

He pulled off his shirt and trousers, leaving himself in his pants. “Scoot forward a bit, please.”

“What? Marcus, no, you don't have to get in.”

He ignored her protests and sat behind her. He wet and held up a flannel, “Do you want to wash yourself, or would you like me to do it?”

“Would you, please? You don't mind?”

“Of course not.” Gently, he ran the flannel over her skin. He conjured a large basin to pour over her to wet her hair and rinse it. Out of the bath, he toweled her off with delicate strokes and helped her slip into the clothes. He carried her back to bed as her strength gave out on the way back.

He laid her down, she kept her arms locked around his neck so he ended up flopping on the bed, “You didn't want me to stay, by any chance, did you?”

“Yes, please.”

She settled with her head on his bare chest., his arm wrapped around her. He kissed her temple, “You were a badass tonight.”

“Thanks. It felt good to rid the world of something monstrous. Unknown numbers of children will grow up not werewolves because those bastards are gone.”

No regrets?”

“I probably should, but we put down feral beasts that were attacking us and saved people from them. I'm done apologizing for protecting myself. Pavel repeatedly stalked and harassed me. Then he abducted me with the intent of forcing me to have his children. When I refused, he tortured me. This was clearly self-defense. I know Albus Dumbledore would have wanted me to submit so I could try and redeem him. Second, third, fourth, unlimited chances for the dark and damn the cost to others. My love could have saved him. Fuck that. More like I would have been his abused captive until I died in childbirth after seven kids.”

“Calm down, little dove. Rodolphus will have both my heads if you make yourself worse. Well, if there's anything left after Luna destroys me for ruining her wedding.”

“I might need some dreamless sleep just to get my brain to shut off properly,” she admitted in a quiet voice. He handed her the vial. “Thanks, bottoms up.” She snuggled back into his chest. “Good night.”

“Good night, Hermione.”

True to MacLellan's warning, the tremors increased by the morning. She couldn't even feed herself finger foods. Rodolphus discreetly fed her breakfast, sparing her the embarrassment of having to ask. She thanked him with a soft smile. He tossed in the floo powder for her departure to the Rookery.

She found a beaming Luna surrounded by flowers and Weasley twins. Fred frowned at the sight of her bruising. He held up the jar, “Let's get you fixed up, shall we?”

“Please.” Both twins helped her remove the bruising on her face and arms.

“Anywhere else?” asked George with a playful leer.

“I can get my legs, thank you.” She took the jar. The twins laughed, kissed both girls, and left, promising to see them at the reception. “I, uh, can't get my legs or anywhere else, but,” she trailed off lamely.

“You don't want Marcus or Rodolphus to kill them when they make jokes later?”

“Exactly.” Luna helped her remove the last of the possible to remove markings. “Now, let's get those daisy chains finished.”

The act of trying to get her hands to obey made the tremors worse. Tears of frustration filled her eyes, “I'm so sorry, Luna, I can't.”

Luna hugged her best friend, “It's okay, Mione, It isn't your fault.”

“But you shouldn't have to make your own ropes and crown,” cried Hermione.

A subtle rap came at the door. Narcissa poked her head in, “May we join you?”

“Of course,” Luna stood in greeting. Narcissa opened the door, and she, Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Tonks entered. “What can you help you, ladies, with?”

Narcissa smiled, “We're here to help you, dear. Hermione could barely dress herself this morning, she certainly won't be able to help weave flowers.”

And Andromeda began sorting the flowers, “As the women of her family, our sympathetic family magic will help us stand in her stead.”

Luna's eyes filled with tears, “Really?”

“Yes, really,” laughed Tonks, elbowing her, “you can't weave your own crown.”

Narcissa looked over the robes. “I'm going to steam out these wrinkles.” Luna looked surprised, “I'm taking the mother of the bride role if you don't mind.” Luna flung herself at the older woman, hugging her tightly. “This will be my only chance, so thank you for letting me.”

“Thank you,” Luna whispered, Narcissa silently patted her on the back.

The women worked quickly to finish the work. Narcissa went to begin the ritual baths. “Traditionally you would share, but Hermione should avoid hot water, so two tubs.”

Luna shook her head, “My best friend needs a cooler bath, so the cooler bath it will be.”

“Lu, you don't have to, I can.”

Luna held up a hand, silencing Hermione, “Nope, not listening. Get in.”

“What?” Hermione looked confused.

“The only things you have worried about since getting home last night have been: ruining the stag party and the hen do, your injuries stealing focus today, and not being able to help me properly. Most women would have backed out after being tortured and magically depleted. A few might have stayed on for the attention they could milk. Ten to fifteen minutes in tepid water doesn't even come close to doing the same, but you don't keep score so you wouldn't consider that. Now, get in.” Luna climbed into the tub.

“Yes, ma'am,” Hermione got in with Tonk's assistance. The bubblegum colored auror helped her bathe, while Narcissa assisted Luna.

“Any questions?” the older blonde asked the younger.

She shrugged, “I don't know what I don't know. I've never been married.”

“Communication is important, listen to what he isn't saying,” Tonks told her.

“If you choose to share a room don't sleep apart because of anger or miscommunication,” added Andromeda.

“Let him feel like he's winning sometimes,” Narcissa offered. “Make sure he feels supported, but never at the expense of yourself.”

“Thank you,” Luna whispered, feeling the loss of her mother at the moment.

Andromeda smiled, “Anytime you have questions or need support, you are most welcome to call upon myself or Narcissa.”

“Not me,” chimed in Bellatrix, “I have no good advice here.” Luna giggled. “There's a girl.”

“Can I ask what you did to Greyback?”

The older woman laughed, a cold hard sound, “He was barely hanging on. Had I used a different spell ending his life would have been a mercy. Since I used a spell to slowly skin him, it didn't like it.”

“He deserved to suffer,” Luna said solemnly.

Dressed in the white linen robes with yellow embroidered edges, crowns of white roses, tiger lilies, and delicate daisies upon their heads, the girls exited the Rookery and made their way towards the trees in the opposite way from the Burrow. In a semi-circle around a ring of stones, the guests waited for the arrival of the bride and her attendant. Harry gave the girls a small wave as they passed him.
Graham grinned foolishly, his face transfigured as joy radiated off of him at the sight of Luna. His brother looked uncomfortable like he was rethinking his offer of nudity. The officiant nodded to them as Luna and Hermione reached the edges. “Do all consent to be here in their prescribed roles?”

“I do,” all four answered in unpracticed unison.

“Then remove your worldliness and enter the circle in perfect love and perfect trust,” he instructed. Hermione helped Luna with her robes then slipped off her own. She handed them to Narcissa. Skyclad they entered the circle. Luna and Graham clasped hands. “You may make your vows.”

Graham kissed Luna's hand, “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.”

Luna beamed up at the groom, “Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine,” she promised. “With this candle, I will light your darkness.”

“With this ring, I ask you to be mine,” he finished.

“As in this life, so the next,” intoned their attendants.

“So mote it be,” declared the officiant. A shower of silver and gold sparks fell on them as the gathered assembly cheered. Narcissa handed Hermione the robes. She assisted her into hers before her aunt helped her with her own.

Grinning like a madman, Xeno stepped forward, “While the bridal party changes into their reception outfits, please join us for cocktails at the reception hall.”

Mrs. Montague's hired hairdresser, Michel, met them inside the Rookery with the gowns she had chosen. He clapped his hands in delight, “Such lovely canvases. Let's get you ready.”

Luna's gown reminded Hermione of a fancier version of her mother's Bohemian dresses from her youth. Long billowing lace sleeves met the square neckline and flowed into a shell over the tiered layers of silk. The soft ivory color complimented her skin beautifully. With a mischievous smirk, Luna hid the high heels Mrs. Montague had selected. Michel styled her hair in a complicated updo that looked effortless and incorporated her flower crown. Admiring the final result, Luna fingered the single strand of pearls she wore, the matching earrings and bracelet complimenting the simplicity of her dress. The looks were simple, but so perfectly Luna.

Hermione's butter yellow dress had three-quarter sleeves and a flowing skirt that fluttered every time she moved. Rather than lace, tulle formed her overskirt. Her jewelry was small gold hoop earrings and a braided gold chain. Michel created a cascade of curls entwined with white roses. With a wink to Luna, Hermione also hid her shoes.

Hermione gratefully sank into her reserved seat. Crossing the room the large room took her forever. Well wishers stopped her every few steps, each one sapping her already depleted stamina. She sighed and wiggled her toes. Hiding those torture heels had been the right call. She noticed Marcus's concerned expression and gave him a reassuring look. She hoped the meal and a chance to sit would recharge her batteries. Though she did worry slightly about how she would consume said meal. Also concerned, Luna watched her out of the corner of her eye as the hall staff served the salad course. Hermione picked up the thick fork, delighted to discover the heavy weight calmed the tremors enough for her to be able to eat. When Graham slyly sliced her steak with slicing hex. Luna thanked him properly.
By the time the newlyweds opened the dancing, Hermione felt rested. While it would still be an early night, she would at least make it through a good portion without difficulties. She and the best man joined on the dance floor for a song. Rodolphus stole her to sit out for a bit before Marcus collected her.

“Heads up, the guys have created a scheme to help you sit dances out without drawing too much attention,” he kissed her forehead. “And I may have threatened the Weasley twins against any hi-jinks.”

“I will overlook any Neanderthal overprotective behaviors this one time.”

“Huh?”

“I'll let it go this one time given the events of last night.”

“I appreciate it.”

Every couple of songs someone collected her demanding she come and sit and talk with them, or try some dessert. The twins conducted an elaborate presentation about why she should come and work with them. Adrian had pouted that Greyback had ruined all the fun of a traditional wedding, “Right now I should be taking the mick out of your boyfriend because I've seen your bits. But since said skin has scratches and such from the attack, can't really get much fun out of it.”

“My deepest sympathies to be sure,” she snarked back, rolling her eyes.

“Thank you.”

“You know when he gets you for these antics there will be no sympathy from me, right?”

“Certainly, I dished it out, I'll take my lumps.”

“Just checking.”

Thanks to everyone's assistance she made it to midnight before the beginnings of unshakable lethargy set in. With impeccable Luna timing, the bride appeared in front of her just as she started to wilt. “Thank you for everything you did to make today not only perfection but possible. I love you,” she hugged her best friend.

Hermione hugged her back, “You are most welcome Promise to let me know the moment you get back from the honeymoon.”

“We'll be back two days before the first match, coach's orders,” Graham told her. He also hugged her, “And I agree with everything
Luna said, thank you.”

“You're both welcome, now go have fun.”

“I would tell you to do the same, but I think Daddy Death Eater and the Teddy Bear of Quidditch are coming to tuck you in,” he pointed over her shoulder. She looked behind herself to see Marcus and Rodolphus in conversation, both looking serious.

“Be nice or I will tell the Inner Circle member and Human Bludger you're speaking ill of them.”

He swallowed nervously, “Who? Me? Never. And on that note, good night.” He escorted Luna on to their next farewell.

Marcus approached her, “Where are they off to in such a hurry?”

“The sooner they finish saying goodbye the sooner they can be alone.”

“I suppose that's true. So, is there any way to express concern over your physical condition without getting in trouble?”

“Would it stop you if I said no?” she barely stifled her yawn.

“No, but if there was an out I wanted to use it.”

She swatted him playfully, “Lucky for you I am exhausted and desperate for sleep. Which Lu could sense, which is why they are saying their farewells to distract from my departure.”

“Good people that Luna.”

“The best,” she agreed.

“Can you walk?” She shrugged. “Do you want a funny exit or mushy?”

“Did Mrs. Montague keep the reporters out?”

“I think so.”

“You know what? Who cares? Surprise me.”

He gave her an impish smirk, “As you wish.” He scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Laughing she propped herself up on her elbows so she could wave farewell. She blew both Rodolphus and Harry a kiss. He placed her on her feet at the floo bank. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“Hmmm, home,” she answered sleepy, the effort of the last few minutes overwhelming her.

He rolled his eyes, “Which home, Hermione?”

“Wherever you are,” she leaned against him, “is home enough.”

“Come on, little dove, where do you want to go?”

“Home,” she closed her eyes and snuggled into his chest. Sensing she was falling asleep on her feet, he scooped her up and apparated to the house he knew best.

Chapter Text

Chapter 40

Hermione roused and startled briefly, the morning sun came from the wrong direction. Across her stomach, she felt Marcus rubbing in the odd pattern unique to him. A small breath brought her a whiff of his cologne. She peeked at the room around her. A Slytherin banner hanging on the wall behind clued her into their location, Marcus's bedroom. She shifted making herself comfortable again. Her mattress at Courtenay Ave was far superior, muggle beds generally were. “Feeling okay?” a deep voice rumbled next to her.

“A little stiff,” she held up her hand, “still trembling. All in all, I'll live.”

“Good. I would miss you horribly.”

“Is that so?” she teased as he pulled her closer.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He kissed her temple, “Hermione?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you mean it last night when you said that home was where I was?”

She giggled, “I thought that was a dream. But, yes, I did.”

“Home is where you are for me, too. Which does leave me with a question. Have you given any thought to where you would like to live in the future?”

She thought, chewing on her lower lip, “Seriously? No, but in giving it some thought now, if you have no objections, what about my house in London? As a second son, you have no obligation to live here. And at least Malcolm and Esme will be there with their families.”

“Malcolm is a given, but Esme?” he asked.

“Percy is estranged from his family, and even if he wasn't I can't see Esme getting along with Molly well enough to be willing to live at the Burrow.”

“I can accept that reasoning, but you're the Lestrange heir,” he pointed out.

“Yes, and Rabastan has to marry. The poor dears don't need us being disgustingly happy while they learn to be married. And it gives us space without Bellatrix waiting to trounce you after we fight.”

“Yeah, there's a change,” he chuckled.

“Are there any wizard customs that we would be flaunting if we moved in together now?” she asked.

“Are you asking me to move in with you, Miss Lestrange?”

“Perhaps, Mr. Flint.”

Marcus sat up, leaning against the headboard, “Some people might frown upon it. Might start some rumors, especially if we have a short engagement.”

“Most people need to worry about themselves.”

Marcus leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling, “I know how to avoid all that fuss.”

She leaned up on one elbow, “How's that?”

“Marry me.”'

“Are you asking or telling?”

“Asking, of course, I value my life.”

“Without a ring?” she asked faking a scandalized voice.

“Top drawer of the nightstand next to you.”

She shot upright, “Are you kidding?”

“Look for yourself. I told you sooner rather than later.”

“I know, but still.” She opened the drawer to find a small red velvet bag. She could feel the hard metal circle within. Suddenly nervous, she handed it to him unopened. “Are you sure this is where and how you want to propose?”

He pulled the ring out and looked at it. A large emerald-cut diamond twinkled between two smaller guard stones. “I don't think I can wait another second without knowing you will be my wife. Hermione Neveah Lestrange, will you marry me?” He offered her the ring.

She accepted the ring, “Oh my gods, yes!”

“Our engagement can be as long or as short as you like,” he assured her.

“I don't think we should begin planning anything until after Bas's wedding. Mummy Dearest will be zero help with planning and Penelope's parents are going to get themselves hexed for overspending. She's going to need help running interference.”

“Which you can't provide of Narcissa keeps stealing you for wedding planning.”

“Exactly. And you need to focus on the World Cup.”

“Do you want to wait to tell people?” he asked cautiously. He didn't like the idea but would agree to whatever she wanted.

“Wait to wear my pretty ring and have people coo over it? Are you smack out of your mind? Don't be daft. Rodolphus is going to need every second possible getting used to the idea.”

“We'll tell them today, then?”

She shrugged, “No reason not to.”

“I would suggest joining my family for breakfast,” he started, “but.”

“I have no clothes here,” she finished.

“Precisely.”

“I'm going to pop back to my place. We can have lunch with your family and dinner with mine,” she suggested.

“Sounds like a plan.” He kissed her soundly. “And as soon as you are back up to snuff we will celebrate.”

She ran her hand down his bare chest, “Or we could celebrate now.”

“You were tortured two days ago. You need rest.”

She caressed up his neck and across the shell of his ears. “Maybe all I need is you.”

“Keep this up and we will both need a cold shower.” He caught her hand. “I adore you and refuse to do anything to set back your recovery. MacLellan may not have said anything to you, but I get quite the lecture. In front of your father and the Dark Lord, no less. We will be behaving.”

“Spoilsport,” she fake pouted.

He kissed her temple, “The second those tremors stop I will take you against the nearest surface.”

“Promise?”

“I swear,” he promised.

“I'm going to hold you to that,” she answered.

After a final kiss, she returned to her house. She found Harry eating cereal at the kitchen table. “Morning,” he drawled.

“Good morning,” she chirped.

“Long night?” he asked with a smirk.

“Quite the opposite, actually. I fell asleep at the floo.”

“Poor Marcus,” he laughed.

“As he pointed out, I was tortured two days ago and should be recovering. It is what normal people do apparently.”

“Huh, never really had the time, did we?” Harry resumed eating.

She slid into the chair across from him, “We did have an eventful morning.” She extended her left hand.

“Wow, I didn't know diamonds could be rectangles.”

“That's your takeaway? Diamonds can be different shapes?”

He laughed, “Congratulations, Hermione. Made any plans yet?”

“We're going to move in together and nothing until after Uncle Bas and Penelope get married.”

Harry looked uncertain, “When are you moving?”

“I'm not, Marcus is moving into my childhood home with me.” Harry continued to look confused, “This is my house, Harry.”

Understanding spread across his face, “That's why the owner doesn't mind my being here indefinitely.”

“Correct.”

“Huh, why didn't you ever tell us about this?” Harry asked.

Hermione reached to grab a box of cereal. Varl appeared and smacked her hand. “Varl will bes getting Mistress's breakfast. Does mistress wish to have cereal?”

“That would be nice, Varl, thank you.” She rubbed her hand while Harry snickered at her. “To answer your question, Harry. You never asked about my life. Percy asked what my parents did and that was the end of your interest in my life outside of magic.”

Harry thought for a moment, “You're right, Mione. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. You didn't want us asking questions, so you didn't. And can you imagine Ron's reaction if he found out both his friends were wealthy?”

Harry grimaced, “Point taken. So, when do I have to move out?”

She shrugged, “Whenever you want to, I suppose.”

“Marcus won't mind?”

“Why would he, we already do everything we would do otherwise?”

“True, okay, I won't rush out, but I will begin considering where I should go long term. Grimmauld Place is out. The Weasels can get in there.”

“Not a bad idea to be cautious,” she agreed. “Have you considered living alone, discovering yourself?”

“I don't know. I think I would feel safe without someone about to watch my back. I don't want the Order to get a hold of me again.”

“Hmm, well, good luck with that.”

“Thanks,” Harry muttered.

She smiled, “Remember, you have all the time you need.”

“Thanks, Mione.”

“You're welcome, Harry.”

Before heading for lunch, Hermione sent her parents and uncle a message requesting they be available for dinner at the hall. Marcus met her at the floo. Unexpected development, Esme and Weasley have come round for lunch,” he told her with a kiss.

“Do you want to wait?”

“No, just wanted to give you fair warning this could go several ways: congratulations and joy, a tantrum against marriage, or a lecture about finding a spouse.”

“If it is the last be prepared I will counter with the suggestion to find gainful employment.”

“Noted. Now that we are both forewarned, shall we go have lunch?” He offered his arm.

She took it with a smile, “Let's, shall we?” He escorted her to the informal family dining room. Once he helped her into her place he sat next to her. “Hello, everyone,” she greeted warmly.

The family made small talk through the first half of the meal. Then Alva frowned and glared at Esme, “That boy best not be here to announce your engagement without discussing things first.”

Esme sniffed, “Percy doesn't need your permission or blessing, Mother. Though, I'm sure when he's ready he will ask Daddy's blessing.”

Before anyone else could respond, Marcus spoke up, “I do have an announcement. I gained Rodolphus's blessing, and Hermione's acceptance for my proposal.” Hermione held up her left hand, displaying her ring.

“Great Aunt Adrienne's ring!” Cressida exclaimed.

“Congratulations!” boomed Merrick grinning broadly. “How soon is the wedding?”

Hermione made a show of sighing, “I don't know if you've heard, but the Clearwater family invoked an old agreement, Rabastan is marrying one of them. I don't want to steal the spotlight.”

Alva frowned, “They didn't want one of them to marry you?”

Hermione flashed her a mean little smirk, “Mummy Dearest threatened to light them on fire for all of eternity.” Her face fell, “But that didn't save Uncle Bas, he's stuck.”

“All the better for Marc,” grinned Malcolm.

“We're going to start making early decisions after the World Cup. Though we did agree to move in together now.”

“At Lestrange Hall?” inquired Cressida.

“No, my childhood home. While in London, it is somewhat remote and warded against muggles to be hidden, like the Blacks' London residence.”

“Will it be large enough for a growing family?” Alva asked with feigned innocence. Merrick narrowed his eyes at his wife.

Marcus began laughing, “Hermione's house might be larger than ours. Don't worry about my suffering or having her spend all my galleons. She's wealthier than me without the Lestrange fortune.”

“And remember what I said, I don't care how much you of it you spend. You can be a trophy husband if you like.” They both laughed. His family looked confused. “That's my standard response when people suggest I'm a gold digger. Usually shuts them up.”

Merrick guffawed loudly, “Brilliant, my dear, simply brilliant.”

Hermione shrugged, “I do try.” She resumed eating.

Esme followed her lead, “Are you not making any plans until after the Cup?”

“I have things I want to accomplish before Aunt Cissa takes over my life with wedding plans. If I didn't fear what she would do, I might just let her plan the whole thing herself.” Hermione shuddered and looked at Marcus, “Don't let me do that.”

“I won't,” he promised.

“Thank you.”

“So, a long engagement then?” affirmed Percy.

“For the wizarding world, anyway,” Hermione said. “Muggle engagements usually last for at least a year, sometimes two or longer. It takes them longer to arrange and make things.”

Percy nodded, “Sounds nice.” Esme nodded. Merrick pouted for a moment, before shrugging it off, they hadn't had that conversation yet, anyway.”

“And if your family disapproves of this idea?” Alva asked.

“We'll elope and rob them all of the wedding nonsense,” Hermione said in a flat voice.

“A have to face their disapproval?” Alva was scandalized.

Hermione blinked at her several times, “At the age of 14 I faced down a psychopath, a werewolf, and a hoard of dementors. Why on earth would I be afraid of some glares and sighs? They can accept my decisions or be apart from them. That's my philosophy on just about everyone, on the by and by.” She gave her future mother-in-law a brittle smile.

Wisely, the men at the table steered the conversation towards the upcoming beginning of the World Cup for the remainder of the meal. Alva fled to her room citing a headache as soon as she could. Cressida predicted many headaches in the future.

Marcus spent the afternoon packing the belongings he needed to take with him to Courtenay Ave. Everyone agreed there was no point in prolonging the move. Though Esme whispered to Hermione Merrick wouldn't be best pleased when Marcus wasn't available to help cover some expenses in the future. Hermione convinced Marcus to join her in a quick shower before dressing for dinner, promising to behave herself if he helped her wash. Having somewhere to be helped.

They apparated to the foyer of the hall and followed the voices. They found the Lestranges, the Malfoys, and the Clearwaters in the smallest parlor. Narcissa had a tight smile on her face and Bellatrix was openly glaring. Rabastan was handing Draco a drink, the others already holding one. “Oh,” gasped Hermione, “are we intruding?”

“In your own home? Never,” declared Rodolphus coming to hug her and shake Marcus's hand.

Hermione moved to hug Bellatrix and Narcissa. That the former hugged her warmly caused her to flash the latter a questioning look. “Roddy thought you might be making an announcement of some kind and invited us. The Clearwaters gatecrashed under the guise of wedding planning,” Narcissa whispered in her ear.

Hermione pulled back, smiling, “How nice that everyone's here.” She stepped back to take Marcus's hand. “This morning Marcus proposed, and I accepted.” She beamed up at him, while he smiled down at her with a goofy grin. Her family rushed forward to admire her ring and congratulate them. The presence of the Clearwaters made them a little more boisterous than they might have been.”

“When can we start planning?” Narcissa gushed.

“Not for a bit, Marcus is busy with the Cup and I have some things I want to work on before we get sidetracked with that nonsense.” She looked at Penelope ignoring her parents. “And I do not wish to distract from the other wedding in our family.”

“I should think not,” sniffed Mrs. Clearwater under her breath.

“Though we have decided to move in together,” Hermione shrugged, she enjoyed the shocked expressions on Penelope's parents' faces.

“Here in the Hall?” asked Bellatrix.

“No, I thought we might take the house on Courtenay Ave. It feels better for us. We might stay there after the wedding.”

“Shouldn't Rabastan and Penelope have the first choice of residence?” demanded Mr. Clearwater.

“No,” replied Rodolphus in a hard voice. “Courtenay Ave belongs to Hermione through her mother's family. The Lestrange family does not have secondary homes. We reside here, together.”

“Oh, how nice.”

Hermione fought not to roll her eyes. She knew the Clearwaters coveted the idea of being invited to the Hall for parties and holidays. Wanting another manor house was just greedy. Happily, Nyx appeared to announce dinner. Marcus offered her his arm as the rest of the men did as well.

Nyx quickly served the first course. As they began eating, Mrs. Clearwater immediately began to discuss wedding arrangements and how much everything would cost. And how should they deal with the bills since the agreement stipulated the Lestranges would be paying? Hermione suspected Bellatrix was grinding her teeth. She thought Narcissa growled.

Bas groaned, “This isn't appropriate dinner conversation. And we
should be celebrating.”

“We came here to have this discussion,” insisted Clearwater.

Hermione flashed a mischievous grin that would have Harry looking for the popcorn. Marcus perked up. “Why not simply give Miss Clearwater a budget? She can spend a certain amount of money and not a knut more. Simply transfer that amount to her account and then she can cover the bills herself.”

“Yaxley is not exaggerating when he calls you the smartest witch he knows,” Bas grinned at her.

“Thank you,” she dimpled back.

Narcissa did some quick addition in her head and suggested a total. “That is twice what I paid for the New Year's Ball.”

While it was less than the Clearwaters wanted, and they were not pleased that the money was going to their daughter's vault, they had no choice but to agree. They declined to linger after dinner for brandy or tea. Penelope made sure to thank Hermione and congratulate her. “And please, call me Penny.”

“Call me Hermione.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 41 February into March

Rabastan took Penny to Gringotts the next day and explained, that her family was supposed to pay for the wedding, so any bills sent to this vault were to be covered up to three galleons and then sent onto the Clearwater family vault for completion. “The most important thing to take from this is do not cross your future niece, she is diabolical and willing to play a long game.”

“She seems familiar, I know I know her from somewhere.”

“She was adopted, you know.” He said quietly. She kept her first name. Though her hair darkened and eyes turned from brown to steel.”

Penny considered it for a moment, “Are you saying Hermione Lestrange was Hermione Granger?” she whispered the last part. Rabastan merely looked at her. “I promise I won't tell anyone.”

“It isn't a secret per se, but we don't advertise it.”

“I'll follow the family lead,” she promised.

Bright sunshine warmed England and the Chudley Cannons stadium the morning of the first English match in the World Cup. Wanting Oakley's sons to get to see at least one match, Hermione asked Lucius to book her another box. She informed the rest of the group that the Barretts were her guest first and foremost, and they had to be okay with the children's inclusion to join her. Theo had given her a very confused look and voiced the group's confusion. “Not everyone likes kids on their best behavior, let alone when hyped up for an event like this. If someone isn't going to enjoy sitting with them they should make other arrangements. That way everyone enjoys the match.”

“That's truly thoughtful,” he praised.

“I try,” she dimpled at him.

She met Nora and the boys at their house, refusing to let Nora floo or apparate into that excitement with a six and four-year-old by herself. Each wore an English jersey with Oakley's name and number. Nora carried a small knapsack. “Some toys and blankets in case the match runs long. And their favorite snack in case they don't like the food.”

“Uncle Lucius assured me he informed the staff two of the ticket holders were small children, but I agree, better safe than sorry.” Hermione grinned at the boys, “Who's piggybacking with me?”

Ethan leapt at her, “Me, cause I cleaned my toys faster than Nathan.”

“Good job,” she scooped the small boy up. “Hold on tight.” His tiny arms tightened, as she squeezed back. She turned on her heels smiling at Nora as she went. At the stadium, she transferred him to her shoulders, “Look for Luna, please.”

Moments later, “There, I see Luna, over there. Luna!” Ethan waved with both hands. Noticing him, Luna returned his greeting and enthusiasm. The two women made their way through the throngs to the rest of the group.

“Is everyone here, or nearly here?” Hermione asked

“Just waiting on Clearwater,” Peregrine informed her.

“Wait no longer,” the witch in question announced cheerfully. “Thank you for including me.”

“You're about to be family,” Hermione told her.

“And thank you for giving Bas the idea to appease my parents until it is too late.”

“I'm here to help you get as close to your dream wedding as we can get. Though if you really want to get your parents, wait until they've paid for everything then elope.”

Penny laughed, “You would have been an amazing Slytherin. Bas told me about the adoption when I mentioned you looked familiar. Don't worry, my lips are sealed.”

Hermione nodded in acknowledgment, then turned to the rest of the group, “Who's ready to watch England win?” The group cheered. “Lead on, Draco,” she commanded. They followed the blond up the deluxe box. Hermione lowered Ethan to the floor, he ran to his mother and brother.

A wizard in an orange uniform appeared, “Welcome, Malfoy party. My name is Nigel. I, and my coworkers, Matthew and Sarah, are at your disposal today. We have a snack bar here for the younger guests stocked with some fun snacks and some choices to please mum. The taller table has more adult fare. The bar is stocked for all guests from pumpkin juice and butterbeers, to champagne and fire whiskey.”

Noting the mutinous looks on the boys' faces, Draco rubbed his hands together, “Potter, Nott, pumpkin juice?”

Not missing a beat, Blaise agreed, “Oi, Longbottom, pumpkin juice?” Neville nodded. The Italian turned to the bartender, “A round of pumpkin juice for all the boys.” Both Ethan and Nathan perked up at the idea of being one of the big boys.

Seated near the rail, Hermione watched the group interact. Nora, Luna, and Vanessa helped Nora's boys organize their snacks. Alexandria talked to Harry and Neville discussing gods knew what before joining Draco, Blaise, and Cassius to talk about the betting pool. Theo and Penny both fixed plates. Peregrine sat next to her. “Ready for this?” he asked.

“Of course. Do you think the press has discovered my new portable privacy wards, yet?”

Peregrine laughed, “I wondered why you were sitting so close to the rail this early on.”

“I might consider allowing them a photo later on if they behave.”

“Behave?” he questioned.

“Don't invade our space or ask stupid questions,” answered Hermione.

A blast of music announced the beginning of the match. The brightly colored Brazilian team burst from their waiting area. Flaming boitata writhed across the pitch creating fascinating patterns. The music changed and fairies filled the air as the English team took the field. Harry held Ethan on his shoulders as they cheered. The reserve players flew past, Oakley waved at them. Graham blew Luna a kiss. The reservists joined the coaches on the bench. England took command of the field and quickly took the lead. They dominated the gameplay. As Hermione made her way over to the buffet to fix a plate when the announcer declared substitutions for the English team. She smiled to hear that both Graham and Oakley would get to play. It wasn't a complete change of the bench but would give some of the players a nice break. Wisely, Hermione sat a short distance from the rather hyper and excited Barrett boys, who were jumping up and down. Their antics made the adults laugh. She ate while listening to the commentary.

The English chaser kept up the pressure on the Brazilian defense. But the game dragged on for hours. Rubbing his eyes, Nathan climbed up onto a padded bench for a nap. While refusing to sleep, Ethan did lean into Harry who was explaining the game to him.

At the six hour mark, both teams changed the lineup, fresh players livening up the action for a time. At the eighth hour Harry looked over at Hermione, “Makes you miss time limits, doesn't it?”

“Yep,” she leaned against him. “Why are you so bony?”

“So many possibilities,” he joked, “who knows.” Vanessa leaned against Harry's other side. “Are you comfy?”

“No,” they replied in unison.

Before Harry could retort, the commentator grew excited, “Barrett has seen the snitch, the race is on.” They jumped to their feet and hurried to the rail, cheering loudly. “Barrett has caught the snitch! Ladies and gentlemen, England has won the first round of the World Cup playoffs!”

Fatigue completely forgot the group hugged each other and celebrated. Nigel appeared at the back of the box, “Excuse me, would Mrs. Barrett, Mrs. Montague, and Miss Lestrange please come with me to the team's box?”

“Of course,” Nora began collecting the boys' things.

Harry stopped her, “Take the boys and go celebrate, I'll get their stuff and get it to Hermione tomorrow.”

“Thank you, thank you so much.”

“Yes, now go,” Harry shooed her.

Luna and Hermione each took one of Ethan's hands to help steer the sleep, but excited, little boy. Nora followed carrying a drowsy Nathan. Nigel led them through several service corridors “to avoid the crush and take a more direct route.” He ushered them into the family box seconds before the team entered followed by the press.

Ethan dropped their hands and ran forward with a cry of “Daddy!”
Oakley scooped him up into his arms before engulfing Nathan and Nora in a family embrace. Graham spun Luna in a circle, her head thrown back in laughter. Hermione glances around at the celebrating knots, looking for Adrian or Marcus. She felt someone come up behind her and spun reaching for her wand. “Whoa, there. Steady.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, too soon to be sneaking up on you like that.”

“Congratulation, brute. You lot gave no mercy.”

“Maybe that will teach the Brazilians not to trash talk so much.”

“Doubtful.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and when he sloughed down, kissed his cheek. “Still, good job.”

“Why thank you, little dove.” Aware that others were being more exuberant with their displays, he chuckled. “We must be boring the press.”

“Hardly, once they notice this boulder on my finger.”

He frowned, “I thought you liked it?”

“I love it. But isn't hard to miss. Even if they don't see it tonight, one photographer takes the right shot and our engagement gets announced in a sports magazine.”

“You sound like you enjoin the idea.”

“Someone disinclined to speculate or gossip? I adore the idea,” she told him.

“Excuse me?” a quiet voice interrupted. They turned to look in the direction of the source. A tall thin brunette stood holding a notepad. She gave them a hopeful smile. “Charlotte Harper, Quidditch Today. Could I trouble you for a quote, Mr. Flint?”

He released his hold on Hermione, wrapping one arm around her shoulders, “Sure.”

“How do you feel about the team's performance today?” she asked.
“Pretty good, we've been working on team building. And that's what we displayed today, teamwork. No one was the star, we passed the quaffle, blocked the bludgers, and eventually hunted down the snitch.” He gave her a grin.

She chuckled, “It certainly was a long match. Can we expect teamwork and an aggressive style of play in the future?”

Marcus rubbed the back of his neck, “The coaches will be tailoring our play based on the next opponent. I'm excited for the next one.”

“Thank you, Mr. Flint, Miss Lestrange. And may I congratulate you on your engagement?”

“Thank you,” Hermione grinned. “Want a scoop of a different nature?”

Charlotte's eye glowed, “Any reporter worth anything does.”

“Then feel free to mention it.” Hermione winked at her.

Initially, Narcissa was annoyed a sports rag broke the news. Hermione pointed out anyone with eyes could see the ring, and all the reporter did was congratulate Marcus on a personal and professional win both in one week. She could still craft a regal sounding missive for the newspapers of her choice. In the classified section of both the Prophet and the Quibbler, a small notice ran declaring Harry Potter to be cutting ties with Ginerva Molly Weasley and Ronald Billius Weasley. It went mostly unnoticed, though Harry kept a copy of both papers.

Fleur sent Hermione and Harry a message that her friend was indeed interested in writing a book, and having been educated overseas, did not worship Albus Dumbledore. He agreed to meet at Mount Cicero in Italy when they were there in a few days. Severus loaned her the headmaster's pensieve. And the two spent several hours pulling out memories for the author's review. “Do you think this will help, Mione?” Harry asked.

“No clue, but I will take great delight in reading it to Dumbledore's portrait unless Snape wants the pleasure.” She gave him a mean little smile which he returned.

The estate in Mount Cicero has been occupied more recently. The furniture and decorations had a more modern look to them. The house elves proudly showed Hermione and her group around the grounds and house. Orene whistled looking about, “This is the one you open to the ones who just want a peek. Consolidate the library in Greece and let the intellectuals go there.

Glancing about, Hermione nodded, “I'm inclined to agree. This was a home, the other was left as the knowledge base. Let's focus on pulling about any real tomes and send them to Greece. Harry and I will also be meeting with Dorian Theras about his project.”

Peregrine nodded, “You're the boss.” The group disbursed to settle into their rooms. Hermione enjoyed the soft decadent silks in the master suite. The large marble soaking tub reminded her of a small personal Roman bath. The sloping floor allowed one to recline completely with the deep end allowing for floating or full submersion. Harry demanded use rights the second he saw it.

Dorian Theras arrived promptly at nine the next morning. Helios, the head elf escorted him into the dining room where Hermione and Harry lingered over breakfast. “Can we offer you something to eat or drink?” Hermione offered.

“No, thank you. I ate before coming over. Shall we begin?”

Harry placed the pensieve on the table, “We know some of our claims will seem outrageous. Albus Dumbledore was a highly respected leader and educator. So we thought we would just show you the memories.”

“I appreciate that, though I have learned that Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald were friends and allies, I am less likely to be as shocked as you might think.”

“Lovers,” Hermione corrected.

“Pardon me?” Dorian asked.

“Grindelwald and Dumbledore were lovers. His portrait admitted that. I think the memory is in there.”

“Interesting,” Dorian eyed the pensieve.

“We should leave you to sort through them. Call for Helios when you're ready for us,” Hermione instructed. He nodded before dropping into the silver bowl. The two left the room together heading to assist the others in the library.

Hours later a pale faced Dorian joined them. “That, that was intense. Just, wow. I may have more questions later if that is okay?”

“Certainly,” Hermione agreed. Harry nodded. The remainder of the trip to the roman estate passed uneventfully.

Hermione notified Gringotts that she was ready to begin reviewing proposals and begin interviews. She recruited Thorfinn to assist her in her work, “You have a better idea on who is a serious seeker, and who wants to poke around and be an arse.”

“Very true, I shall endeavor to assist you to the best of my abilities.” He gave her a mock bow.

At his insistence, they met at his townhouse. “I admit my surprise that you have your own place and don't live at home,” she said looking around at the bachelor pad.

He shrugged, “My family has the name, but we've slowly been losing the money and the real estate over the years.”

“Got it. Well, let's get to work. You weed out the hard no requests. I will look over the rest.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They worked in companionable silence for several hours before a commotion interrupted them. A shrill female voice could be heard arguing with the house elf. “Leave me alone, you foul toad. He's going to talk to me. He can't just ignore me because he got bored!” Thorfinn stood and started for the door, blocking Hermione's view, and blocking her from view. “Thorfinn, you arse. Nobody just drops me and gets away with it.” Even though she couldn't see the witch, Hermione knew that voice, Ginny Weasley.

“I was quite clear last time we spoke. You were becoming too clingy, too attached. We were never going to be more than a good time. I told you that repeatedly.”

“Well, things changed. I'm pregnant, Thorfinn.”

“I fail to see how that is my problem. You don't even know if it is mine. You were quite open with the fact that you were also with Harry Potter and rather insistent you would be Mrs. Harry Potter as soon as possible. You cautioned me not to develop feelings.”

“He disappeared. And this is your baby.”

“Prove it,” he retorted.

“I can't do that until it is born, now can I?” she shot back.

“No, you can't. But I think if you get a copy of the Prophet from the day after I told you it was over, you will find the notification that I want nothing to do with you or any children from the union. You'll get nothing from me. So for your sake, I hope it is Potter's and he hasn't done the same.”

Ginny sneered, “Harry wouldn't know how to.”

“That's good for you, I suppose. Well, there's the door. We're busy.”

“We?” Ginny shrieked. “Who the hell are we?”

“Myself and my associate,” he replied.

“You mean your whore.”

Years of annoyance at Ginny's mistreatment caused Hermione to stand and stalk to the doorway. “I am not now, nor have I ever been a whore, you childish dimwitted bint. Gods, look at you, a pathetic harlot running from client to client, 'Look what you did to me. I am having your baby. Give me all your money.' I would be very careful who you called a whore, if I were you.”

Ginny's eyes narrowed, “Do I know you?”

“We hardly run in the same social circles, now do we? I warrant my own invitation, and you have to beg for the scraps of attention at the door.” Hermione evaded the question. “I will leave you to your little lover's spat, Finn. We can pick things up tomorrow.”

“As you wish, Miss Lestrange.” He bowed and kissed the back of her hand, just to annoy Ginny. He turned to the redhead after Hermione departed. “Your turn,” he said in a flat voice.

“Come on, Thorfinn, don't be like that. You said I was the best lay you ever had.”

“Sweetheart, I tell all the girls that. I'd tell your mother or your Great Aunt Muriel that. It is a line, one designed to stroke your ego and gets you to agree to come back. We had some fun, you got plenty out of it. Now, it is over. You need to focus on finding Potter so you can trap him, or get some other poor bastard on the line. Because mine or not, I'm not raising a kid. Period, end of the story. Now leave or I will have you removed in the most embarrassing manner possible.”

She gaped at him, opening and closing her mouth several times before running from the house bawling.

Chapter Text

Chapter 42 Warnings and Weddings.

Hermione raced through the house calling for Harry. He met her on the staircase, “So, banshee?”

“Please, please tell me you did everything to cut ties with Ginny?”

“And Ron, why?”

“Ginny just showed up claiming to be up the duff, and since she couldn't find you, she was looking for Thorfinn to step up. He also cut ties when she got clingy.”

“Oh, this is not good.” Harry sat on the steps.

*-*

Ginny sobbed into her pillow. Unable to locate Harry, Rowle had been her next best hope. She knew Harry desperately wanted a family, he would marry her instantly. She had hoped Rowle might at least be willing to shoulder his half, just enough to support their child, but no, he had to a selfish bastard. A memory niggled at her. She clamped down on those thoughts. It had been an impulsive mistake. She wanted to pay Rowle back for his lack of attention, maybe make him jealous. She regretted it instantly. He hadn't cared and now she had three possible fathers instead of two. None of her family would understand. Bill might, or at least he might be willing to help her. Her mum would be furious. Her father wouldn't keep it from his wife. She decided to write her eldest brother and ask for help before she gave up and confessed to Molly.

*-*

“Any possibility it could be your baby?” Hermione asked.

“Depending on how far along she is, it could be. I was so befuddled protection of any kind was the last thought possible. Which was probably part of the plan.”

“Supposing it is, what do you want to do?”

Harry frowned, “Having grown up unwanted I could never leave a child in that position. Even though I know the Weasleys would never treat a child the way I was treated by the Dursleys. I would want to raise the child away from Ginny. Any spouse I married could adopt. I hear it is going to the all the craze soon.”

Hermione sat next to him, “Then I guess we have until October to get you settled somewhere, just in case.”

“Thanks, Hermione.”

“You're welcome, Harry.”

*-*

Bill invited Ginny to Shell Cottage. Over dinner, he questioned her closely. “You're sure Harry is the father?”

She rolled her eyes, “For the tenth time, YES. Harry James Potter is the father of my unborn child.” In the silence of her mind, she added, 'I hope.'

Her oldest brother sighed heavily and scrubbed his face with his hands. “I'll see if Gringotts can reach him.”

Ginny leapt from her seat, hugging him. “Thank you, oh, thank you, Bill. Thank you.”

“I promise to try. They may not be able to reach him. He may not be able to answer,” he cautioned.

“Just trying is wonderful,” she danced about the room briefly. Bill smiled briefly, happy to see her acting like her old self. Ginny left soon afterward, promising to see a healer the next day to be sure.

Fleur looked at her husband, “This is not good.”

“No, it isn't. First of all, she just lied through her teeth. I know she's been out and about with Thorfinn Rowle, I doubt he just wanted to hold hands. Second, Harry cut ties with her, Ron, too. It was just in the paper.”

“Third, he has evidence of her misdeeds. Fourth, he has stronger allies.” Fleur responded.

“Well, she made this bed, she has to lie in it.”

“Are you going to tell Harry?”

“Yes, poor bloke doesn't deserve to get blindsided in October.”

“Do you think your parents will try to force something?”

Bill shrugged, “Who knows anymore? I never would have dreamed my mother would keep someone under an obedience charm, so there we are.”

The couple invited Harry and Hermione to dinner the next day, saying they needed to discuss something. Curious the duo arrived on the early side bearing a bottle of wine. “Thank you,” Bill took the proffered bottle, “Come on in.” He stepped back to allow them to enter.

Fleur put the finishing touches on dinner and called them to eat. “Forgive me, I wanted to show off my French cuisine skills this evening, so coq au vin with asparagus.”

Harry gave Hermione a questioning look. “Duck in wine sauce,” she answered.

“Smells amazing,” he complimented.

Hermione waited until they had all served themselves, “So, how formal are we going to be?”

Bill looked surprised, “Huh? You're our friends, both of you.”

“Sure, but are we going to make small talk through dinner or talk about has you both tenser than a cat in a room of rocking chairs?”

Harry laughed at the wizards' blank faces, “That is so much fun.”

“Right?” she agreed.

“We can talk about it while we eat,” Bill shifted his weight. “Gin came to visit. She claims to be in the family way, and that Harry is the father. The only possible father.”

“Funny, she told Thorfinn Rowle the same thing,” Hermione remarked calmly. “He told her tough luck and to kick bricks.”

Bill looked uncomfortable while his wife flashed a scandalized gleeful smirk. Harry nodded, “I knew because Hermione was there and told me. I cut ties with her and I have copies of the potion reports.”

“And if the child is yours?” Bill asked.

“I will raise it without her. Depending on her behavior during her pregnancy I will consider some kind of muggle style visitation. Your family's access would also be provisional on acceptable behavior.”

“Dad might try to force the marriage issue, we are purebloods.”

“And blood status shouldn't matter. But Lucius Malfoy's solicitors helped me draft my letter and petition. He would only embarrass himself and her.” Harry told him.

Fleur nodded, “We did not wish for you to be ambushed or blindsided. I wish we could do a paternity spell now, but the baby's magic blocks it.”

“I appreciate that,” Harry thanked them. “Not much we can do until October.”

Fleur changed the subject to the excursion to Mount Cicero. “It was delightful. More modern than Greece. Orene suggested letting the tourist types that I'm willing to let in go there. Though the cellars have some strong wards on them.”

Bill perked up, “Did you take them all down?”

“No, they mostly seemed to preservation and anti vermin wards.”

Would you be willing to allow trusted curse breakers to bring in trainees? Safe wards of that strength are rare.”

“I could be persuaded if it was a curse breaker I felt comfortable with,” she smiled coyly.

“I'll send it up the ranks and send you an official proposal.”

“I'll be watching for it.” She turned to Fleur, “How is your pregnancy going?”

“Ugh, some days it is glorious. Other days I feel like a giant sea cow.”

“You look radiant,” Bill assured her.

“You have to say that,” she snapped, “you did this to me.” Then she laughed, taking the sting from her words. “Which, I will not mind so much when there is a delightful baby to cuddle.” The friends laughed and enjoyed the remainder of the evening.

Mrs. Clearwater pushed for a quick wedding, a late March ceremony on the terrace that ran the length of the house, with dinner and reception in the formal dining room and largest ballroom. Penny confided in Hermione the only thing keeping her from hexing her mother was Hermione and Bas's revenge waiting for her. “I hate everything.”

“Even your gown?”

“I hate almost everything. The decorations are garish, the invitations are tacky. The food sounds too posh and gross. Any time I protest she tells me that she knows best.”

“I would console you, but there's a betting pool about what goes tragically wrong and how long it takes.”

“I really?” asked Penny.

“I have Mummy Dearest hexing your mother two hours into the reception for excessive social climbing.”

“That's a good guess. Mum is furious you don't call me Aunt Penelope. I put my foot down and told her that was absurd. I'm only four years older than you, and we went to school together.”

“I appreciate that. I'll be sure to goad her a bit for you by stressing Aunt Cissa and Uncle Lucius.”

“You're a peach.”

“Just taking one for the team,” Hermione laughed.

“Worst of all, to ensure my awful relatives attend, she's making me have my cousins as bridesmaids,” Penny moaned making a face.

Hermione shrugged, “Demand a traditional wedding.”

“Nope. I cannot do that. I am not brave enough to parade about naked in front of anyone.” Penny blushed, “My mother is zero help for wedding night jitters. She said to lay back and endure, Rabastan will enjoy himself even if I don't. And that's what matters.”

“Have you considered a trial run before the big event?”

“When? My mother is consumed with planning, she keeps me busy with it all day long. It's like she doesn't want us to get to know one another.”

“Well, I would modify your mother's advice. Lay back and enjoy. Bas is experienced, let him help you learn what you like and what he likes. He knows how it's done. I've heard stories.” Hermione waggled her eyebrows, “He's got a substantial reputation from his younger days.”

“I, uh, I just couldn't,” Penny stammered.

“Penny, take a breath. As embarrassing as the conversation feels, have it. Express to Bas your uncertainty and inexperience. His ego will demand you have an enjoyable experience.”

“You think so?” Penny asked shyly.

“Having spent significant time with men of various ages, I know so.”

“I'll try to.”

*-*

Hermione sighed and stretched, her back popping. Hours of interviews zapped her energy. The mind-numbing annoyance of it wore on her. Many people simply wanted the prestige of saying they had been there, with no interest in historical research or preservation. “Ugh.”

Marcus came up behind her, his strong hands massaging her shoulders, kneading the knots from her muscles, “Long day?”

“So many people seem to be under the impression that because they want something I have to give it to them, for free even.”

“They didn't like your answer did they?”

“Most of them did not. A few found the request to peruse their family grimoires amusing.”

“Are you letting anyone in?”

“A few actual researchers who could make their careers,” she shrugged, “and some Gringotts curse breakers.”

Marcus slid into the chair next
to her, “Still coming to Japan with me?”

“Of course, Harry agreed to take care of Crooks and Sir Hiss.”

“Because the elves wouldn't?”

“Hush, you,” she swatted him.

“Are you ready for Bas's wedding right before that?”

“As I'll ever be. Narcissa has signed off on my gown and jewelry as worthy of my standing. My escort is from an acceptable background,” she winked at him.

“Though, my family received our own invitation.”

“Every pureblood family of any standing of note received an invitation. I have seen the decorations. This is about to be the tackiest event in the history of such events.”

“It can't be that bad,” chuckled Marcus.

“The flowers are shades of orange, blue, and red. The bridesmaids are wearing mint. Mrs. Clearwater wanted the men to wear powder blue formal robes but Bas refused. Violently. He set them on fire.”

“So that's not happening.”

“It is not,” she agreed. “I'm also hoping to not have to keep Mummy Dearest from hexing the bride's family. Wish me luck.”

He kissed her forehead, “Good luck, little dove.”

Hermione wove a warming charm into her shawl in preparation to ward off the afternoon chill. Maisie assisted her with her hair, pulling it up and holding it back with sapphire barrettes. The simple A-line dress shimmered in candlelight granting it effortless elegance. She wanted to wear her glass slipper necklace from Marcus, but Narcissa vetoed it. Instead, she took her niece to collect something flashier from the Lestrange vaults. The selected jewels stretched across her chest and collar bones with matching chandelier earrings. Narcissa convinced her also wear a thick cuff bracelet.

Though a delicate hair piece caught Hermione's eye, Made of pale milky blue stones wrapped in silver flowers and leaves. It also bore the Lestrange family crest. “This would make a wonderful headpiece for Penny. Her mother kept her from getting one.”
“Probably in hopes we could supply a family masterpiece,” sighed Narcissa.

“Most likely, but I've decided to focus on Penny. I want her to feel welcomed into the family. I doubt she's going to fight us in the future as we keep their access to the family as limited as possible.”

“Oh?”

“Her dress has been the only thing she had any say in. She knows Bas is only paying three galleons per bill and thinks it fitting and hilarious. She appreciates that they will be living a the Hall with Roddy and Mummy Dearest, but that Marcus and I will live at my house to help give people space.”

“And if you host holiday gatherings, that cuts them off.”

“Does it? Huh, I hadn't considered that.” Hermione gave a mean little laugh. She collected the piece to offer to the bride. She purchased a lace veil to go with it.

Hermione instructed Penny's elf, Pip, to let her know when Penny was dressed and alone. Then she had the elf sneak her in. “Oh, Hermione, you look so lovely.” cried Penny.

“You look gorgeous.”

Penny preened, “Thank you. But, I have to ask, why are you here?”

“Aunt Narcissa and I wanted to offer you a Lestrange headpiece as your something old, and something blue. I have a veil for your something new and bobby pins for something borrowed.”

“Is that a muggle thing?”

“It is,” Hermione pulled out the delicate wreath.

“How charming? Are you sure no one will mind?”

“Bas and Roddy are unlikely to even realize to care. And if Mummy Dearest does, I will let her know I offered it as a surprise and behind your mother's back. Pip, would you do the honors?”

“At once, Miss Miney.”

Pip quickly twisted Penny's hair up into an elaborate braid with the hairpiece resting on it. When Hermione nodded her approval the house elf set the veil and pinned it into place. “Oh, Penny, it is perfection. Like it was designed with you in mind.”

The bride admired her reflection, “It does, oh doesn't that sound so conceited.”

“Nonsense, every bride should feel this way. Now, I need to be going. Spoils the secret if your mother finds me here.” She winked and held out her hand to the house elf so she could be returned to her room.

Downstairs she joined her parents and the Malfoys, giving Narcissa a wink, which the older woman returned. Marcus greeted her warmly when he arrived. “Ready for a demonstration about what a wedding should not look like?” she asked teasingly.

“As any of us can be, I suppose.” Marcus offered her his arm. He guided her to the waiting ushers that escorted them to seats reserved for the groom's immediate family. She looked over the seats, noting numerous pureblood families, and ministry officials. She happily noted some Ravenclaw classmates of Penny's. She nodded a greeting to Percy, sitting with Esme. Noticing his sister, Marcus leaned down to whisper in Hermione's ear. “Esme told him she's open to the idea of making their relationship permanent.”

“How did he reply?” she whispered back.

“That he too is open to the idea and that he would speak to Father.”

“Think they'll beat us to the altar?”

“No, Esme will have some issues with Mum, whereas you have your aunt and mum to intimidate her into submission.”

“There is that.”

The bride glided down the aisle on the arm of her father, and from the first look, the groom only had eyes for her. That gave Hermione hope for the couple moving forward. With an angelic smile, Penelope promised Rabastan, “I join my life with yours. Wherever you go, I will go. Whatever you face, I will face. For good or ill, in happiness or sadness, come riches or poverty, I take you as my husband, and will give myself to no other.” Rabastan returned her vow with his own.

The minister official congratulated them, “I now pronounce you husband and wife, you make kiss the bride.” Rabastan gave her a quick peck on the lips and whispered something that made her laugh and blush.

Chapter Text

Chapter 43 What Comes Next

The newlyweds and bridal party created a receiving line leading into the dining room. Having nothing to say to Penny's family, Hermione remained silent, nodding to them. They gave her varying looks of annoyance. She reached Rodolphus as the best man. She hugged him. “You're taking notes on what not to do, right?” he whispered in her ear.

“Of course,” she replied. She moved on to Rabastan. “Congratulations on your bride. My condolences about her family.”

“Thank you, little witch.”

She moved on to Penelope, “May I congratulate you on your marriage and offer you my vow to help you distance yourself from your old family when needed?”

Penny laughed and hugged Hermione, “Thank you.”

“Remember Mummy Dearest, two hours,” winked Hermione. Marcus escorted her to their seats near the head of the table. “This is going to be a train wreck.”

“Undoubtedly,” he agreed.

Bellatrix sat next to Hermione, and Lucius sat on Marcus's other side. The Tonks and Lupins sat across from them. Beyond the Malfoys began the many Clearwater relatives. “Apparently, they breed like rabbits,” muttered Bellatrix disapprovingly, examining Penny's three older brothers and their spouses.

The bride and groom sat together at the magically expanded head of the table. The caterers began serving the first course. Only years of social training kept everyone from making faces at the frou-frou food choices. The flavors did not always compliment one another. Hermione drank several large glasses of water during the first three courses. The conversation stalled three minutes into the second course, despite numerous attempts to keep it going.

Hermione up on Penny's brother, Roger Jr, and his wife, Camille, and addressed Penny, “Do you know where you're going for your honeymoon?”

Penny blushed, and smiled shyly at Rabastan, “No, it is to be a surprise. Though, I was advised to pack for warmer weather.”

“Good chance beaches are in your future,” teased Rodolphus.

“Or a cozy camping tent in Africa,” suggested Narcissa.

Camille sniffed, “If you can afford a luxury hotel why go anywhere else?”

“Why indeed?” agreed her sister-in-law, Emily. “Miles promised to take me to that new Mediterranean resort next year for our anniversary.” She gave her husband a smug smile.

Lucius looked at his son, “Is that the one you invested in with those Gryffindors?”

“Finnegan and Spinnet? Yes, the Irishman knows his way around designing bars and clubs. He has a real gift. And Spinnet puts Hermione to shame for sheer bossiness.” Hermione pretended to look insulted to their family's amusement.

“Just for that, I expect VIP treatment,” she sniffed.

Draco laughed, “But of course, mademoiselle.”

Someone further down the table made a catty comment about rich people expecting stuff for free, but it was ignored. Hermione choked down the last two courses. Marcus used his wand to subtly vanished most of his meal. Bellatrix simply left it on her plate. Blessedly the meal ended and the guests moved to the ballroom. Lord Voldemort greeted and congratulated the couple there. He opted out of the meal to avoid seating issues and avoid the Clearwaters, which none of the Lestranges seemed to like, which spoke volumes to him.

Spread across the room small tables provided seating for the evening. Marcus and Hermione joined Luna, Graham, Cassius, and Adrian at one. Looking at Adrian, but including Cas, Hermione cautioned them, “Stay away from Penny's family. The entire family is full of gold diggers. Play it safe and go home alone.”

Adrian chuckled, “That bad?”

“You have no idea,” Marcus rolled his eyes.

Cassius looked to Luna, “Any Ravenclaws we should avoid?”

Luna shrugged, “No idea, I didn't socialize much with them. Penny was five years ahead of me.” Luna patted his hand, “Go with Mione's advice. Go home alone. Anyone worth knowing will still be there tomorrow for proper vetting.” They nodded.

Rabastan and Penny started the dancing by sharing their first dance as a couple. Rodolphus motioned for Hermione to join Rabastan as Penny's father collected her for a dance. “So far, so good,” he smiled at his niece.

“Please, the night is young,” she quipped back. “The alcohol has barely begun to flow.”

“You can't just let me have this?”

“And allow you to be lulled into a false sense of security? Never!”

“Thank you for suggesting your place in Greece for the honeymoon.”

“As it is not available to the public none of her family can go and try to top it. And I think the Ravenclaw in her will be delighted.”

“Hence the appeal. As she does love swotty stuff like this, how annoyed will you be if we have sex in the library?” he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Don't tell me and we can pretend nothing happened.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he grinned at her as their dance ended.

Hermione danced with Marcus, Rodolphus, Cassius, Lucius, and Adrian before she demanded a rest. She surveyed the ballroom. The decorations looked as horrible as she feared they would. They clashed with each other and the room. Catering staff circulated with fruits and savory snacks to help keep guests sober longer. Rabastan had called it starvation self-defense. She took a small pastry off a passing tray, then collected a glass of champagne.

The room appeared to be on the fuller side. Lord Voldemort kept the edge of the room with many Death Eaters making their way discreetly to pay their respects. She noticed a few of the families Bellatrix called social climbers. The Macmillan and Patils sat together chatting as their children mingled. The Parkinsons were keeping Pansy on a short leash, much to Hermione's amusement. As most of the others avoided Pansy to stay on the Lestranges' and Hermione's good side, she looked bored beyond belief. 'Such a shame,' thought Hermione, 'couldn't happen to a more deserving girl.' She smirked at her thought. Across the room, she noticed Lisa Turpin and Marietta Edgecombe flirting with Adrian, who engaged but didn't seem interested in closing the deal. Cassius escaped Millicent Bulstrode by dancing with his mother. She smiled to see them thinking about the consequences. Nibbling on her pastry, Hermione noticed the Minster of Magic, Pius Thickness, mingling with a few other department heads. All in all an illustrious turnout, fitting Rabastan's standing in society. She sighed, the turnout meant years of Penny's family angling for invites to events none of the Lestranges wanted to host.

She sipped her drink. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up to see Marcus staring at her. She quirked a questioning eyebrow. He crossed to her without breaking eye contact. “Little dove.”

“Something wrong?” she asked.

He took her hand to assist her to stand, pulled her to him, and kissed her passionately. “Why would anything be wrong?”

“You once told me you weren't into public shows of affection, and now you've all but peed on me,” she said not unkindly.

He frowned, “You didn't like it?”

“I didn't say that. I asked what was wrong, brute. Now answer me,” she demanded.

He sighed, “Some pretty boy started making comments about you sitting alone, and if you were his he would be glued to your side.”

She wrinkled her nose, “No thank you. I like that you give me space in places where I feel safe, and stay close if I want.” She took her hand, walking to the dance floor. “Let's show pretty boy who I belong with.”

Pulling her scandalously close, “As my lady commands.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

After several dances together, Hermione begged off, wishing to sit for a bit. She pointed at her mother and aunts sitting together, “Go ask your mother or sisters to dance. I'm sitting.”

She sank into a chair at the table where Bellatrix and her sisters sat silently sipping glasses of champagne. Without a word, Andromeda handed her one. Hermione nodded her thanks then tipped her head to the side in question. Narcissa jerked her head in the direction of the table next to them.

Sarah Clearwater sat with her daughters-in-law planning upcoming social events. “And, of course, your anniversary party, Emily. Imagine an evening of dinner and dancing under the stars on the south lawn.”

Emily nodded eagerly, “We should be able to invite all the executives since we aren't footing the bill.”

That statement broke Andromeda's control over her temper and her tongue, “Just who do you think will be footing the bills for these lavish affairs no one has agreed to host?”

Sarah laughed, “Penelope, she is such a dutiful daughter.”

Narcissa gave a tight smile, “Yes, but she's now a member of a different family. So, this would require a discussion with her new family, not just your assumptions.”

“Oh, pish, formalities,” dismissed the third daughter-in-law, Henrietta. “Her husband will agree to make Penelope happy and she can't say no. Such a little people pleaser.”

“Is that so?” growled Bellatrix. The foolish woman tittered and nodded. “As lady of Lestrange Hall, I am restricting the access of the Clearwater family to invitation by the head of the house only.” Sarah gasped and glared at the other witch.

“As heir, in absentia of the head, enact allowances for all members.”

Sarah leapt to her feet, “How dare you, you nasty brat.” She raised her hand to slap Hermione, but the blow never came.

Bellatrix caught Sarah by the wrist, squeezing it in a tight grip. “Would you like to hear
what happened to the last person who dared lay a finger on my daughter? I should warn you it isn't a happy tale.”

“How dare she restrict our access to the family vaults!”

“Do you hear yourself?” demanded Narcissa. “It is not your access or your vaults. It is Penelope's access to Hermione's family fortune. The fortune you have been planning to run through over the last twenty minutes to the benefit of your family.”

Eyes narrowed, Andromeda entered the fray, “Your daughter marrying into the family means next to nothing for you. You get some contracts and shipping. Be content with making then spending your own money.”

“Penelope will never agree to this. She won't let her family be mistreated.”

Hermione flanked Bellatrix, “Don't worry, we won't be. Now unless you want to be the laughingstock of this wedding, agree to shut your pie hole and walk away.”

Sarah looked at the hard expressions on the faces of the Black sisters. She swallowed hard, “You're right, these are discussions for another time.” She looked around nervously, “Excuse me, please, I should mingle.” The Clearwater women fled.

Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Penny joined them. Penny laughed at Hermione, “Two hours, Bellatrix, and my mother social climbing, right?”

Narcissa sniffed, “Planning for you to host any and every social event for your father's house.”

“On the Lestrange family's dime,” Andromeda added.

Bellatrix glared, “As lady of the house I limited their access to invitation only.” Roddy nodded.

Hermione spoke up, “And I invoked allowances.” She looked at Rabastan and Penny. “Sorry.”

Rabastan shrugged, “I have my own vaults and revenue.”

Penny nodded, “Me, too. They have no right to expect yours to do all of that.”

Rabastan nodded, “That just leaves dealing with them on holidays.”

“Does it?” Hermione asked. “The Malfoys host New Years, the Tonks can take Easter, I will host Christmas. I see no reason to invite them to anything.”

Penny hugged her, “You are scathingly brilliant.”

“Why thank you. Now, let's go enjoy the rest of this party.”

The next morning the Clearwaters hosted breakfast for the immediate family. Roger had wanted to protest Hermione's inclusion, as she was Rabastan's niece, not sister. But Penny put her foot down. Adding one person to bring the groom's total guest number to three seemed fair. After the meal, Hermione presented Rabastan with a wicker basket. “Portkey, charm to get past the wards, and a bottle of wine for fun. And after a lot of thought, please refrain from having sex in my library. Respect the books.”

Everyone but Rabastan looked confused, “Hermione graciously offered her Greece estate after Penny expressed an interest.”

“How does the daughter have an estate?” demanded Roger Sr.

“Not that it is any of your business Hermione was blood adopted in the past. She is as much a part of that family as her birth family.”

“Like the ministry is suggesting for muggleborns?” Penelope's next oldest brother, Trent, asked.

“Similar, they would become full members of the new families. We had no idea if we would ever be released, Hermione needed someone to care for her, that family needed an heir. Everyone won.” Rodolphus said. He looked at his brother, “Now, you two go have a good trip.” He shooed them out the door.

Chapter Text

Chapter 44 Japanese Adventures

Hermione returned home to pack for Japan. Nora would not be attending, nor could Luna. This would be her first solo girlfriend trip. She hated the idea of looking needy by begging someone to go with her last minute. A witch had to have her pride. At the same time, she really hated how vapid the others could get. Which is why she had trouble making friends with them. Regardless of all that, she was going. Marcus deserved her support. She had faced down werewolves and worse, why was she so afraid of a bunch of airheaded witches? Because she knew the power of words and still had lingering pain she couldn't escape. Giving herself a shake, she finished packing and headed out the meet the team for the international portkey.

She handed her suitcase to the team staff and followed the official's direction to the waiting area. She searched the crowd for a familiar face. “Hermione!” She recognized the voice, but at the same time was confused hearing it.

She turned towards it, “George? What are you doing here?” she hugged him.

“That's a fine how-do-you-do, Forge,” said another voice.

“Fred?”

“In the flesh and at your service,” he bowed with a flourish.

“Your court jesters are off the land of the rising sun.” George remarked as she hugged Fred.

“Oi, Weasley, you're my plus one, any public displays of affection should be shown to me.” teased Adrian. “Hello, pet.” He gave her an enormous grin.

“Not that I am complaining, but how?” Hermione asked.

Adrian shrugged, “We played with the idea of inviting someone to keep you company, the twins are great blokes, but how do you only invite one? Than Luna had to stay to help her dad, so Graham had a plus one, too. And here we are.”

“Thank you both so much!” she cried hugging them.

“You're welcome, pet.”

Marcus stepped up next to her, “Someone has the keep you from lighting the others on fire.”

“Or hexing them,” Adrian winked at her.

“Or turning their hair into snakes,” George joked.

Fred looked at him thoughtfully, “Though...”

“The idea has merit,” agreed George.

“We can work on it later,” Hermione told them. “Time to go.” She pointed to the crowd by the portkey. They joined them to be whisked away to Japan.

Her feet touched the sand spread across the reception floor. “That's thoughtful, something soft to soften then blow.”

“Yes, miss. Welcome,” an attendant bowed.

“Domo arigato,” Hermione returned the bow.

“You speak Japanese, miss?”

“Only with a translation charm,” she gave a laugh, which the attendant shared. She followed the rest of the group out of the arrival area and onto the hotel.

Hermione surveyed the hotel room. Marcus set down his suitcase, “I am pleased to inform you both Weasley twins are on the other side of the hotel, three floors above and below us in separate rooms.” He smiled at her. “Hopefully that means no pranks.”

“I can guarantee no pranks. The guys gave them a free trip to see a World Cup play off. You are about the see the Weasley twins on their best behavior,” she laughed. “Now, how can I help you relax before tomorrow's match?” She wrapped her arms around his neck, and stepping close to him.

“I can think of a few things.” He dipped his head down to kiss her. She swiped her tongue across his lower lip, nipping at it. He responded by thrusting his tongue into her mouth, fighting her for dominance of the kiss.

KNOCK. KNOCK. “Come on, love bunnies, the pool is open,” yelled Adrian. “Get a move on.”

Marcus groaned, resting his forehead against hers, “I guess we're going swimming.”

“We could try to ignore them,” Hermione suggested.

“When has that ever worked?” he questioned.

She sighed, “It doesn't. Let's go.”

Dressed in English jerseys that supported the players that brought them, Hermione and the Weasleys made their way to the players' box in the stadium. She choose seats off the furthest side, they could see the action but weren't the center of attention. “I appreciate this, guys.”

George laughed, “Mione, to get these seats I would actually date Pucey if I was his type and Angelina wouldn't kill me.”

“Still, it was nice of them to bring friends for me. I'll have to think of a good way to thank them.”

“Flint looked pleased this morning, but he might object if you did that,” teased Fred.

“Yes, well,” George interrupted to save his brother, “they know you aren't comfortable with most of the WAGs.”

“I try. But the only thing we have in common is being in love with a quidditch player. If we even have that.”

“They do make you wonder sometimes,” Fred agreed watching one of the girlfriends check them out.

Fred offered to collect drinks before the game started. “So,” started George, “rumors are swirling about blood adoptions for muggleborns.”

“Is that so?” Hermione sipped her drink.

Fred narrowed his eyes, “What do you know?”

“Quite a bit, what do you know?” she countered.

“Not as much as you, only that little that's been in the papers. Dad won't talk about it, just keeps shaking his head. Mum rants it will be the end of everything. Ron eats and blames Luna and Harry.”

“Harry? Why?” interrupted Hermione.

“For not escaping and coming back. He abandoned him.”

Fred nodded, “And Gin mopes.”

“The adoptions are to help muggleborns integrate. And Ginny is moping because she's pregnant and clueless to the identity of her baby daddy.”

George whistled, “Oh, wow.”

“Oh, Gin,” Fred shook his head.

“She hasn't admitted she doesn't know. She told Bill she's one hundred percent positive Harry is the father.”

“And he cut ties with her. Oh shite.” George looked concerned, “Look, if he is the father, he needs to take that baby and walk away.”

“No, he needs to run,” Fred cut in. “We love our mother and sister but they both believe they are entitled to things because they want them.”

“Sounds like a common trait these days,” Hermione muttered under her breath. Louder, she asked, “Okay, explain it to me. Or rather, tell me if I understand correctly. Anyone can cut ties with someone else if there is some kind of manipulation or subterfuge on the person being cut's part.”

George nodded, “Correct.”

“And it can be something as minor as both parties agreed to keep things informal and one wanted more?” George nodded again. Hermione sighed.

“Unfortunately,” Fred answered, “so long as witches can use the system to get rich, or at least not have to work, wizards will want to be able to have an out.”

“Arguments for another time and place. Let's assume Gin is correct, Harry is the father. He has gone through the process correctly and she is cut off. Now what?”

“Entirely up to Harry. If he feels uncomfortable raising the baby he can leave it with Gin and have no contact like it wasn't his,” George supplied.

“Conversely, if he wanted the baby, but not Ginny, he could take the little tyke and raise it without her.”

“But how exactly does that work?” asked Hermione.

“It is like she isn't the mother. Her name is left off the the birth certificate, like his would be if he declined. And like he couldn't be force into any obligation, she would have no rights,” explained Fred.

“That sounds horrible for the child,” she protested.

“Should scenario one occur and Ginny kept the baby, which I doubt, we would be there to help. And in scenario two we will be as involved as Harry will allow.”

“Only we would be Uncle George and Uncle Fred in the same way you would be Aunt Hermione. Not because we were the mother's brothers.”

“I think I get it,” she said slowly.

“You still hate parts of it,” Fred took her hand.

“No system is perfect, but I think Gramps and I will be having a talk soon.”

“Gramps?” laughed Fred.

She shrugged, “He likes to act like am indulgent grandfather.”

“That feels kind of creepy, so let's change the subject. George
held up his drink, “Let's drink it up and enjoy this match.”

“Cheers,” the other two mimicked his actions, and returned their attention to the pitch.

Unlike the South American team, the Asian team did not underestimate the underdogs, launching a powerful offensive. The score was lower this time around, but the action faster, fiercer. Hermione watched with baited breath as the English chasers moved up and down the pitch. The beaters rushed about knocking the bludgers away from their teammates and towards the opposition. She cheered for every goal, urging the seeker to find that tiny golden ball. When Jenny Markin's small hand wrapped around the snitch, Hermione grabbed Fred and began jumping up and down. George flung his arms around his twin and their friend. The three bounced together chanting, “We won!”

The mood in the box increased when the players joined them. Marcus pulled Hermione up into a tight embrace, kissing her deeply. The twins gave Graham and Adrian enthusiastic back slaps. Marcus let Hermione slide down his body. “Congratulations, brute.”

Adrian looked around the room, “We need to celebrate. Who wants to try sushi, I mean besides Hermione who has eaten everything?”

“I have not eaten everything. And I expect it to be different in Japan,” she sniffed.

“Muggleborns are always going on about it, I want to try it,” he looked at each of them in turn hopefully.

“You don't want to go party?” asked Hermione somewhat surprised.

“Nope, I want to try sushi. When we get home and reporters ask about Japan I want to have an opinion about something other than how pretty the women are or aren't.”

“Then let's go get our sushi on!” Graham declared.

The group returned to the hotel to change. Hermione stopped at the front desk for a recommendation. “At the risk of sounding boastful, the hotel restaurant is very popular for sushi.” The front desk clerk gestured to the side lobby full of diners waiting to be seated. “We offer the full menu for room service.”

“Sounds perfect. Could I impose upon you to send up some safe selections and some of your favorites? Enough for six people, five of them bottomless pits.” She scribbled down her room number. He looked confused. “Three of them are professional quidditch players.” She motioned to the hovering jersey chasers. “I would hate to hex them bald because our room number was overheard and they were foolish and pushy.”

The clerk laughed, “And we appreciate your restraint, miss. I will put your order in and have it sent to your room.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You are most welcome, miss. Enjoy your evening and sushi.”

Hermione hurried upstairs to tell the others about the change in plans. The food arrived fifteen minutes after the others arrived. Tuna, sea eel, and octopus nigiri sushi sat on one platter, tekka maki, kappa maki, and futomaki on another. Another dish bore the label oshizushi, and next to it temarizushi. Hermione identified the wasabi and ginger root cautioning the others about the spiciness. Everyone tried one of everything before picking favorites to devour.

“This is amazing, astonishing, stupendous,” praised Adrian. “How far from your place can we get sushi?”

“Um, maybe fifteen minutes?” answered Hermione.

“Awesome,” he grinned before shoving a piece in his mouth. “I love sushi.”

“We got that,” Marcus assured him.

Upon her return to England, Yaxley invited Hermione to review the new Muggleborn Initiative before the press conference. She took back her wand from Munch and waited. “Do you need directions, miss?” asked a passing employee.

“No, Corbin usually materializes at this point.” The employee gave her an odd look. “There he is,” Hermione pointed.

“Good morning, poppet, ready?” He offered her his arm.

She took it, “I am.” With that Yaxley escorted her to his office.

“To begin we will be offering a free test to all existing muggleborns. Once we know their ancestors we will help them find a mentor family if they want. Of those that accept I intend to recruit them to help explain the program to new muggleborns.”

“What will the program offer?”

“Someone to help them navigate this new world. A support system, if you will. A safe place to run to if needed. And thanks to the adoption ritual- pureblood status. And should they need it- a family. No more orphans languishing in orphanages.”

“No rights to vaults?”

“Not unless we find an extinct line. Then only a percentage based on a percentage of any other possible cadet branches. That is on the Gringott's end.”

“And they get to collect a finder's fee.”

“Or access to people like you that they might want to curry favor with.” He smiled at her fondly. “We will be sending a muggleborn liaisons with Hogwarts staff to meet with new students. The sooner we make contact the better,” he explained.

“I approve.”

“I thought you might.”

“Any families not willing to help?” she asked.

“We won't be inviting Order of the Phoenix members, no need to
frighten the newcomers with war mongering.”

“Very sensible. The bad old days are over.”

He sighed, “How much of this did you design?”

“Not much at all. But the plan is logical and well thought out, my compliments.”

“Thank you.”

“You should consider offering the opportunity to half bloods like Harry, who don't know.”

“That's a good idea, Potter has no idea where his mother came from. He would make a good subject zero.”

“Privately at first,” Hermione cautioned.

“Certainly, we would want to know the results before allowing
the press or anyone public to observe.”

“Have you considered what to do if the magical families aren't British?”

“At the press conference we will be asking for volunteers for in those cases. I expect many Inner Circle members will be stepping up. Lead by example and all that.”

Hermione hand delivered Yaxely's offer. Harry read it and looked up at Hermione, “You have opinions, I expect.”

“I suggested it be offered to half bloods in similar situations.”

“It would be nice to know who Mum was related to,” he remarked. “I suppose I should accept.”

“While Corbin is asking you to be the public guinea pig, the first time will be in private so you will know what names are coming.”

“Really? Thank you, Hermione!”

“Just looking out for my bestie.”

Yaxley invited Harry to come the next day after the press conference and the news would have broken. He wanted to avoid giving Harry enough time to doubt his decision. Harry insisted Hermione accompany him. Corbin materialized seconds after they arrived. “Wow, that is impressive,” laughed Harry. “You weren't kidding, Mione.”

Corbin looked at her in a questioning manner. “Your reputation for appearing the second I enter proceeds you.”

“This way then,” he gestured for them to follow him down to the Department of Mysteries. He lead them to a small research room. He dismissed the unspeakable with a head jerk. She exited the room silently without delay. “If you will sign your name on the provided parchment with the quill.”

“Is that safe?” Harry questioned.

“Not enough to harm you, or allow someone to gain control over you.”

“It won't scar?”

Corbin looked between the two friends, “Hermione questioned that before, too. Why?” They both held up their right hands. “I shall not tell lies. Muggleborns do not matter. When did this happen?”

“Our fifth year under Delores Umbridge. Why do you think I hate her so much? She tortured a school full of children with the ministry's blessing.”

“She's still a good scapegoat, but perhaps she should suffer some.” He shook his head. “Onto the business at hand. Mr. Potter, if you would?” Harry took the blood quill and wrote his name on the unrolled parchment. Moments later letters formed. Stretching up from Lily Rene Evans the names Abbott, Ollivander, and Pucey stood out. “Do you want to contact any of these families?”

Harry shrugged, “I have plenty of support, but if you want me to ask for a support family the Puceys might be best for demonstration purposes.”

“Agreed, I'll explain everything to Martin and Ivy.”

They left Corbin to his preparations. “So, no more muggleborns, well not really, but enough to pacify the fanatics.” Harry said as they walked down the hall to the lifts.

“Voldemort says so is enough most of the fanatics,” relied Hermione dryly.

“What's next on your list?”

“Having things reworked so men like Rowle can't sow wild oats without consequences.”

“I figured that bothered you.”

“I like the protection against magical manipulation, but verbal or written agreements don't play with your mind. That is a loophole that should be closed. Then again, it should not be a free ride for someone women. She should get half of the amount of money it takes to care for a child.”

They walked in silence for several minutes. Harry stopped walking, “Whatever you want ask, Mione, just ask. I can hear your fretting.”

“How are you feeling about the whole Ron/Ginny thing?”

Harry resumed walking, “Mostly? Hurt, without the potions I might have developed feelings for either one of them. But they didn't take the time to flirt or express interest in a healthy way. I don't even think the thought crossed Ron's mind. And because Ron was using potions, I didn't respond to Gin, so she resorted to potions.”

“You don't feel violated?” she asked in a small voice.

Harry considered the question. He took a deep breath before answering, “Not really, maybe if I couldn't imagine being with them otherwise. But if they hadn't used deception I could have.” He paused, “Do you feel violated?”

Hermione looked away, “I know we didn't do more than kiss and a
little under the clothes fondling, but yes, I do. Without Molly's meddling, I never would have been with him like I was. Without Dumbledore I never would have been his friend.”

“I'm sorry for all the times I wasn't the friend I should have been.”

“I know, you're here now, that's what matters.” Hermione hugged him.

“Oh, good, you're still here.” Hermione turned and saw Corbin's assistant. “Legal wants to work out an agreement with Mr. Potter over his results. If he would come with me?”

“Certainly, see you at home, Hermione?”

“Yep, I'd say have fun, but legal,” she gave a fake shudder making them laugh.

Chapter Text

Chapter 45 Weasleys

The Daily Prophet announced the new initiative to welcome muggleborns into the wizarding world. 'For those disinclined to accept the offer of a mentor, and to cover all possible topics a Wizard Culture class will be mandatory for first through third with optional advanced studies in fourth through seventh. For purebloods, Muggle Studies will be replaced by Muggle Culture and will explain the basics of the muggle world. It will also be mandatory in the younger years. Half bloods will select the class which will be the most beneficial to them.' The article went on to name the new professors. 'The Daily Prophet wishes Prof Percival Weasley and Prof Edward Tonks the best of luck.' The Quibbler landed exclusive interviews with both men. The general feeling was muggles weren't a danger anymore and there might be some value in understanding how their world worked. And in no longer making those entering the wizarding world fumble around for years trying to fit in.

Arthur entered the lift at work wearily. This new attitude about muggles and muggleborns ensured job security, but he worried if it was a simple smokescreen. And if it wasn't then perhaps Lupin was right, it was time to admit defeat and start to work towards healing their worlds. Arthur sighed. He loved his wife, but she would never accept they had to surrender. Neither would Ron. The enemy was pure evil and needed to be wiped off the face of the earth. He remained so lost in thought he didn't notice someone joining him in the lift until they coughed.

To his immense surprise, his third son gave him a nervous smile, “Hello, Dad.”

So overcome with joy at the greeting, Arthur embraced him tightly, “Percy.”

Percy instantly returned the hug, “I am so sorry I let this rift get so bad.”

“Me, too, son, me, too.” Arthur released him. “How are you? Congratulations on the new position.”

“Thank you. I'm well. It was a surprise offer, but I was highly recommended according to the headmaster. And I've been seeing someone since New Year's. It is getting serious.”

“Oh? Anyone I might know?”

“Esme Flint. Hermione Lestrange introduced us.”

The last name surprised Arthur for a moment, never thinking a society girl would be interested in one of his sons. “I hope you're happy, son. That's what matters.”

“I am. Give Mum my love, please.” Percy bid his father farewell as he exited the lift on his floor.

Once again Arthur's thoughts ran away with him. He ignored his fellow passenger until a mannerism drew his attention. He stared in disbelief before stopping the cage. “Hermione? Hermione Granger?”

For a second she contemplated hexing him and erasing seeing her from his memory. Yet, everyone else got a second chance, why not him? And she wasn't hiding anymore. “Hello, Arthur,” she said calmly as if mentioning the weather.

“What? How?”

“Perhaps we should go to your office and talk.” He nodded and she restarted the lift, exiting at the correct floor.

They entered his office. “Tea?” he offered allowing manners to see them through the awkwardness.

“Yes, please.” Once the niceties were out of the way she began. “You are aware Dumbledore placed me under an obedience charm. He also bound my childhood memories. He made Harry's safety and learning everything he might need to know more important than anything, including my own life. He caused me to believe I was unattractive. That my only value lies in my knowledge and intelligence. He sacrificed my innocence and childhood to preserve what little he could of Harry's. When he was dying he added your wife, who added your youngest son. Dumbledore did all of this because he thought I was someone important and he wanted to control how I discovered this, and because he wasn't sure how it would support his greater good and, ultimately, himself.” She paused to sip her tea and let that information sink in. “I am the power Harry possessed. Not love, not anything else, me. Mrs. Weasley ordered me to take care of the boys, stay with them no matter what, and keep Ron happy. Ron ordered me to date him for his own reasons. None of them were because he loved me. I broke those charms. I intended to get mine and walk away from you all. But the supposed evil enemy values me more than the good guys ever did. They want peace and are willing to compromise to get it. They will reshape this into a better world. Simply because he wants to be in power and that is how he can get it, now.”

“How do you know you can trust them to keep their word?”

“Muggleborn Initiative, Werewolf Protection Law, the new Hogwarts classes. They earned my trust without demanding my obedience.” She took another sip, “If you want to talk to someone about a truce, tell Percy. He knows how to get word to me.”

“Where have you been all this time?”

“I hid out for a while, since I came out of hiding I have been with my new family. I am Hermione Lestrange.”

“How? Why?” Arthur felt himself staring wide-eyed.

“Blood adoption. I needed a family, they needed an heir. Rodolphus and Rabastan have thrown themselves into their new roles. I think they forget about the adoption.”

“Are you happy?”

She sighed, “I am content. My mistreatment by wizards is still somewhat fresh. And some people have a reckoning coming. But I have friends and family to help me put this behind me.”

He nodded, knowing in the back of his mind members of his family would be among those on her reckoning list. “Last question is Harry safe?”

“As safe as any of us are. He is not being held against his will or being forced to do anything he doesn't want to. He is his own man, now.”

“Fair enough.”

“Have a good day, Arthur.”

“You, too.” She left him deep in thought.

At Gringotts, Ginny begged her oldest brother to be with her when she told their parents about the impending arrival of a grandchild. “I hope Harry has somewhere other than Grimmauld Place, that is no place for a baby. We'll get married at the Burrow, of course. A late summer wedding right before the baby comes.” Ginny daydreamed missing the look Fleur and Bill exchanged. Bill tried to bring his sister back to reality.

“Gin, we haven't heard from Harry yet. Don't start planning a future that might not happen.”

She frowned at her brother, “If he isn't willing to marry me then Daddy can make him. And if that fails, he'll still have to support us. I hope the Potters' have a country estate, oh, maybe a manor house. Mum and Dad could move in with me to help with the baby.” She smiled dreamily. “Ron could stay at the Burrow. I bet Lavender would love to have her own house.” Bill stared at his sister in horror. Somehow she had become a heartless gold digger. This was not going to end well. Fleur slipped from the room to update Harry.

Harry scowled at the departing owl. Marcus laughed, “Come on, Potter, it isn't the bird's fault.”

Harry tossed the letter at Flint, “Doesn't mean I can't give the messenger a dirty look.”

Marcus scanned the contents and whistled, “Damn, that's ballsy.”

Hermione entered, frowning when she noticed the tense atmosphere between the two men. “Anything I should know here?” Harry handed her the missive from Fleur. She sighed, “I'll help you write a response to the inquiry Bill never sent you.”

“Thank you, Hermione.”

“If you fathered her spawn, I get to be godmother.”

“I thought that was already a given. So, don't call your godchild spawn.” He swatted at her playfully.

“Go get a quill and parchment,” she ordered.

Marcus chuckled at their antics, “I will arrange supper, shall I?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” Hermione kissed him. She followed Harry into the study. “You write, I will dictate.”

“Naturally.” Harry picked up the quill, “I await your words.”

“To Mr. William Weasley, greetings. I have received your letter informing, no scratch that, concerning the current physical condition of your sister, Ginerva Molly Weasley. I regret to inform you, that due to a large number of potions keyed to your sister, I have formally cut ties with her, and your brother, Ronald Bilius Weasley, over the potions in my system keyed to him. You may contact the ministry for the files if you wish. I wish you, and the rest of your family, well, but cannot respond to this as you might desire. Both Ginny and Ron have betrayed me in one of the worst ways. Perhaps, if they had been honest with their affections, things would be different. But they chose deception and manipulation over honesty and courtship, so we will never know. I do wish to be informed of the birth so that paternity may or may not be established. Sincerely, Harry James Potter.” She paused, “What do you think?”

“It sounds way smarter than I would have on my own.”

“But Arthur knows I know where you might be, so who cares?”

Harry frowned, “Think he'll keep that information to himself?”

She shrugged, “Again who cares? I'm done hiding or caring what they do or think. Let's go see what Marcus rustled up to eat.”

“You know he just asked one of the elves to make dinner, right?”

“Of course he did. Have you seen the looks of fear he gives the appliances? That or he popped out for take away.”

Marcus appeared holding several styrofoam containers, “Have you ever tried sushi, Potter?”

Arthur wondered if his wife and youngest children had noticed he had been quieter than usual over the last week. He felt like he was spending more time in his shed than before, but perhaps not. He had always wanted a peaceful life but had the bad luck to be a young man in a war. His wife gave him seven children, which was its own kind of chaos. Then Voldemort returned, and at first, it had been those chaotic days again. But since the death of Dumbledore and the taking of the ministry the same day as Bill's wedding things had ground to a halt. Only the odd skirmish keeping things going. For the thousandth time, he pondered Hermione's offer. A truce, what would it take for him to agree? Would Molly ever agree to any terms? The death of her brothers during the first war had changed her, had hardened her. He sighed, acknowledging that any price Molly named in vengeance for her brothers would be too great for Hermione to let them pay, for were not her crimes against another worse than slaying someone in battle? She had agreed with Albus about the obedience charms, only Arthur's fierce refusal kept her from using them on their children, namely the twins. But to agree to peace with her enemy he knew she would demand the lives of those thought to have killed her brothers. He scrubbed his hands with his face. Back to the dilemma that drove him to his shed for most of the evening the last few days. After all of his deliberation, he came back to the fact that he loved his family and couldn't bear to lose them. At least not through his actions. And yet, he hoped to find a way to have both.

“Arthur! Arthur, darling, dinner,” Molly called to him from the kitchen door.

“Coming, Molly-Wobbles.” He returned his toys to their proper place and left his refuge. He washed his hands at the kitchen sink and sat at the table.

Ginny kept glancing at the fireplace, anxious for something. Ron took his place as his mother began to place the dishes on the table. The flames flared green and Bill emerged. Ginny leapt to her feet, “Bill, look Bill came to dinner.” she hugged him happily.

Molly bustled around the table, “Oh, Bill, sweetie, are you staying for dinner?”

“I am, Fleur went out with friends and I didn't feel like eating alone.”

“You know you're always welcome for any meal,” she smiled at her eldest son.

Bill slid into the seat next to his sister. “That's why I'm here.” He patted her leg under the table. This conversation was not ending well for anyone, and he was the only one who knew it going in.
As the meal began to wind down Bill sent signals to his sister that it was time. Sighing deeply Ginny spoke up, “Mum, Daddy, I, uh, need to tell you something.” Both parents looked at her. “Um, I'm pregnant. It's Harry's, of course. Bill sent him a letter through the bank to let him know.”

Ron looked at her in shock, “When did you have sex with Harry?”

“Since his birthday,” she said hotly, “not that it is any of your business.”

“The hell it isn't. Harry and I have been together since we were in 5th year,” Ron bellowed.

Before the two could begin to bicker, Bill interrupted, “Harry answered my letter, and the contents are something you all need to hear.” He waited for the rest of them to quiet. “When Harry ended up leaving with Luna he required medical attention. Upon examination toxic levels of conflicting love potions and lust dust was found in his system. Those potions were keyed to Ron and Ginny. Under legal advisement, he has formally cut ties with both of you. He has no interest in Ginny's condition at this time. He does wish to be notified of delivery so paternity can be established.”

Ginny burst into tears, “No, he loves me, he just needed a little boost to get over his reservations. I know he loves me.” She turned on Ron, “This is all your fault. If you hadn't potioned him I wouldn't have had to.”

Ron sneered, “He never gave you a second thought. You were an annoying little tag along.”

“This all happened because you lost your temper and attacked Luna,” Ginny screamed. “I hate you, you monster!”

“Ginerva, calm down this instant.” Arthur snapped drawing the family's attention. “Laying blame changes nothing. This family has started down a dark path, one we need to change.”

“Arthur, love potions aren't dark magic. They teach them in school,” Molly chided softly.

“I know, Molly-Wobbles, but Ron and Ginny manipulated their friend. I never saw them flirting with Harry, or trying to attract his attention. And the obedience charms on Hermione. That was wrong. I should have spoken up then. She was a child. What we let Dumbledore do was child abuse. We sacrificed her innocence on the altar of war to make things easier for us and so Dumbledore stay in control.”

“Hermione is a frigid bitch, I assure you she's still innocent,” Ron snorted.

Arthur watched his wife nod her head. He sighed, “You realize you just passed judgment on the young woman Albus forced to spend all her time studying and keeping the boys safe and in school.”

“Hermione loved studying and doing homework,” protested Ron.

“How do we know? Dumbledore enslaved her will before you even knew her properly. Everything we know about her is a lie. One we helped perpetuate. But that is neither here nor there. Right now the facts in front of us are that Ginny is with child and Harry has formally denounced any relationship with her. We need to make plans.” He looked sternly at them each in turn, “Not schemes, plans. Ginny, you are of course welcome to stay here. We will help you for as long as you want.”

“Unless Harry just takes the baby,” Ron said nastily.

Bill nodded, “That is an option we should consider.”

“He can't if it isn't his,” she shot back. When Bill's eyes narrowed she realized her mistake. He simply sat looking at her in silence. “Thorfinn Rowle could also be the father. He assured me he isn't interested in marriage or fatherhood. He cut me off on the grounds we verbally agreed not to get serious.” She rolled his eyes.

“That changes nothing. You need to look into a job. And we need to make preparations for a baby. We should move you into Bill's old room. We can fix up Charlie's for the baby.” Arthur looked at his wife, surprised she had been silent.

Molly's eyebrow began to tick. She had been quite clear with her daughter, no baby until after the wedding. “You little fool,” she hissed, “do you have any idea what you have done? How badly you fouled this up?”

“Molly!” Arthur protested.

She ignored her husband turning on her youngest son, “And you, you would have had the perfect wife in Hermione, why would you need Harry, too? You fucked that all up. She would have done everything you asked, and you had to get greedy.”

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” thundered Arthur. “All of you get out of my sight and think about how to change your behavior before it destroys this family.” Wide-eyed Molly, Ron, and Ginny fled.

Arthur began clearing the table. Bill stood and helped his father clean the kitchen in silence. “Where did I go wrong with those two?”

“I don't know. I don't think the blame is with you, Dad. You said Mum knew Dumbledore controlled people, and she was okay with that. Maybe she gave them the wrong impression of how to get ahead.” He clapped him on the shoulder, “If you need to you are welcome to stay with Fleur and me, for as long as you need.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, son.”

“Good night, Dad.”

“Good night, Bill.”
After his eldest child flooed away, Arthur sat in front of the fireplace deep in thought until he fell asleep sitting in the chair.

Chapter Text

Chapter 46 Entertainment

Lord Voldemort invited Hermione to tea at Malfoy Manor. “Welcome, my dear. I feel like I hardly ever see you since Mr. Potter joined us.” He gestured for her to sit.

“Perhaps I have allowed my attention to be pulled in other directions. My apologies.”

“You are forgiven, I understand how these things go.” Bee brought in the tea tray for her beloved missy and the Dark Lord. “Does the Muggleborn Initiative meet your approval?”

“It does, good job,” she flashed him a cheeky grin.

“Rodolphus tells me you are unhappy with loopholes in certain traditions.”

“Is it really a tradition if it requires legal documentation?”

“Certainly, it began as a social convention before requiring legal backing.”

“Well, being able to say 'we agreed not to be serious and she, or he, got clingy' is unacceptable. If you aren't magically influenced, blackmailed, or the like, then you shouldn't be able to just walk away. Nor should a woman be able to force a man to pay for her every whim like she had no financial responsibility.”

“Do you have suggestions there?” he asked mildly.

“Yes, have some number cruncher develop an equation to determine half the cost of raising a child, the noncustodial parent pays that. Taking into account what it would cost someone to live themselves, meaning the parent doesn't support the other parent, just the child.”

“Very sensible,” he praised.

“I try.” She selected a savory snack from the platter.

“Do you have any remaining topics you wish to learn more about?”

“I admit I no longer feel the need to learn everything, nor do I need to know more to protect myself.”

For a second she thought she detected disappointment in his facial expression, then he spoke, “I confess I find myself missing our interactions. You are highly intelligent, well-spoken, and not afraid to debate me.”

“Perhaps we could fill that time selecting pieces of magic to commit to the Founder's Journal? And discuss items I find in there.”

“That sounds like a most pleasant idea. Do you still have tea with Narcissa?”

“Nearly every Wednesday.”

“Then let us meet every other Wednesday morning before your tea.”

“Excellent suggestion,” she agreed.

“Did you enjoy Japan?” he asked changing the subject.

“Adrian and Graham used their plus one ticket to bring friends along for me.” She chuckled, “And Ades discovered his one true love, sushi.”

Voldemort laughed, “How delightful. The ministry assures me they will be ready to introduce cinema and television soon. They hope to have original content within a year of launching.”

“Splendid. I look forward to it,” she smiled.

He returned her grin, “As do I.”

“Did you see many movies as a child?” she inquired.

“One or two, a rich benefactor insisted on treating us. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been kinder not to,” he frowned, setting down his teacup.

“You can't miss what you don't know,” she whispered.

“Precisely.”

She chewed on her lower lip, debating her next question. “If I invited you to watch a movie on the telly would you come?”

He looked surprised, “One of those modern ones full of explosions?”

“If you like, but I was thinking Classic Hollywood.”

“Do you have Gone With the Wind?”

“I do.”

“Does tomorrow evening work for you?” he asked.

“Around seven? Marcus has practice late every night this week. I'll make the popcorn.”

“Thank you for the offer of treats and the invitation for entertainment.”

“You're welcome.”

Vanessa arrived as Hermione argued with Varl about who would make the popcorn. Harry sat at the table watching. Vanessa sat next to him, “What's going on?”

“The unstoppable force is arguing with the immovable object about who is making the popcorn for Hermione's movie night this evening. The irony is I could use some popcorn to watch.”

Vanessa laughed, “Why is Varl fighting her?”

“Hermione invited someone over, so Varl says that means entertaining and she promised he could cook for guests. She says popcorn isn't food for guests.”

“Do we know who the guest is?” she asked without taking her eyes off the argument.

“No clue,” answered Harry. “Hermione, stop arguing with Varl. Let him play with your muggle toys. What movie are we watching.”

“An older one, Gone With the Wind,” Hermione told her.

“Is everyone invited?” Vanessa asked.

“Um,” Hermione nibbled nervously on her bottom lip. “I hadn't put out the word or anything.”

Harry looked at her, “Do you not want people knowing about a movie night?”

“Not exactly, it's complicated.” Varl took advantage of Hermione's distraction to begin popping the popcorn.

“What's complicated, little dove?” Marcus turned the corner entering the kitchen.

“Movie night,” she answered crossing to greet him. “You're home early.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked slowly.

“No, just complicating,” she kissed him.

Maisie popped into the kitchen, “Mistress, your guest arrived.”

“Thank you,” Hermione headed for the front door. The three humans remained in their places, listening. “Hello, Varl is finishing up the popcorn. He wouldn't let me make it. Won't you come into the kitchen and get your drink?” She returned moments later followed by Lord Voldemort.

In the following stunned silence Voldemort nodded his greetings to each of them in turn, “Mr. Flint, Mr. Potter, Miss...”

“Vanessa Hawkins. Vanessa this is Lord Voldemort,” Hermione introduced.

He took her hand and kissed the back of it, “A pleasure,”

“The pleasure is mine, my lord,” she replied in a nervous voice.

But Voldemort returned his attention to Hermione, “I wasn't expecting others.”

She shrugged, “Neither was I, but Harry and Marcus do live here. And Vanessa is among a select few allowed to just pop in unannounced.”

“No harm done. I won't say the more the merrier, but I would be a poor guest to complain of your other guests and housemates.”

She smiled, “Thank you for your understanding.”

“You are most welcome. As for a beverage might you have soda? I enjoyed the lemon-lime flavored ones in my younger days.”

“I have 7Up, is that okay?”

“Any brand will be fine. I haven't had a lemonade in decades.”

After everyone had a drink, Hermione directed them to the rec room. Voldemort's presence made everyone feel more formal, they sat up straight with their feet on the floor, though Marcus rested his arm on the couch behind Hermione's shoulders. He leaned over the whisper the occasional question.

As the credits played Voldemort nodded, mostly to himself, “Yes, we need entertainment like this.” He stood, “I thank you for a most enjoyable evening, Hermione.”

“I'm glad you enjoyed it. We should do it again, don't you think?”

“I would be delighted. Come see me tomorrow to flesh out your concerns and we shall begin on that project.”

“Of course,” she stood to see him out.

“Good evening to you all.” Voldemort bid them farewell.

Vanessa looked at the other two, “Is it just me, or was that a little odd?”

“You mean how the most feared wizard in Britain treats Hermione like a treasured granddaughter?” asked Harry.

“Yes.”

“Yeah, it's odd,” agreed Harry.

Marcus shrugged, “Not really, she's been his darling since she arrived. This is just another example. Let's get this organized so she doesn't.”

“Doesn't what?” Hermione asked reentering the room.

“Scurry around cleaning,” Marcus teased.

OoO

Rodolphus invited Hermione to join him at a Wizengamot hearing two weeks later. He worded it as an attempt to introduce her to her future role. But Voldemort expressed his desire for her to be present for the discussion about closing the loopholes she complained about. “Will I be allowed to speak, or do I have to object through you?”

“This is an informal meeting, anyone may speak.”

“How nice for you,” she laughed.

Rodolphus proudly introduced Hermione to many of his associates as they waited to be called to order. Frank Longbottom greeted her warmly. Presently Minister Thicknesse called the session to order. “Ladies and gentlemen, good morning. The business before us today concerns the 1636 Societal Mores laws. It has been suggested that numerous loopholes are no longer valid in this day in age.” He looked up at the assemblage, “Mr. Nott, you have the floor.”

“Thank you, Mr. Minister. Good morning, my esteemed colleagues. The matter for discussion before us stems from antiquated laws. We are moving past arranged marriages and keeping our daughters locked in towers. Our sons no longer need indulgence to sow their wild oats. Not every young woman is looking for a rich husband, but this should not excuse young men. 'We never intended to be serious' is no longer an acceptable reason to shirk responsibility. We need to revise these laws to close abusive loopholes.”

A gentleman with more gray than brown hair stood amongst the grumblings leaning heavily on a wooden cane, “Nonsense, this is just a bunch of twaddle to appease half bloods who don't teach their daughters to keep her legs closed and up with her potions.”

Hermione leaned over and whispered to Rodolphus, “Who does he think his sons and grandsons are sleeping with?” Rodolphus shrugged silently. “Name and available male issue?”

“Roderick Cullen, grandson Miles Cullen, who is incidentally present.”

“Perfection,” with an almost feral grin, Hermione stood, “Mr. Cullen, I want to be clear in my understanding, you stand by these old laws?”

“I do, young lady, I certainly do.”

“To the exact letter?”

He thumped his cane against the floor, “I do, there is nothing wrong with them.”

“Then I wish to inform you that your grandson, Miles, impregnated me. As a pureblood I demand he marry me.”

Roderick glared at her, then his grandson. Miles jumped to his feet, “I have not! I've never even met Miss Lestrange.” He looked around in a panic.

“Prove it,” Hermione smirked.

“I attended school at Beaubatons. I only returned to Britain last month,” Miles protested.

“I said prove it, not recite a litany of excuses,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “I suppose we don't have to marry. Miles can simply support us. I do so love Devon this time of year. Don't you have an estate there? Only the best for our baby.” She rubbed her stomach.

“Now, see here, young lady, that estate has been in my family for generations,” started Roderick.

“And little Miles Jr will inherit it from me,” Hermione smiled.

Red-faced Miles shouted, “I have never had relations with this woman!”

Sensing the point Hermione was making, Rodolphus entered the verbal fray, “Are you calling my daughter a liar, boy?”

Miles visibly shuddered at Rodolphus's low dangerous tone, “I, uh, that is to say, um...”

Hermione chuckled, her expression smug, “I think I have illustrated my point. It is a he said/she said situation that favors the more powerful person until the baby arrives, and even then how much money was spent? End this abuse. Make women financially responsible for half the child's care.” She sat, Rodolphus following her.

Roderick glared at her but before he could say anything the chamber doors flew open. Daphne Greengrass stormed in, “Peregrine Boles, you can't hide from me now.”

Minister Thicknesse banged his gavel for order, “Miss, you cannot just barge in here.”

“Oh, yes I can. That worm has been hiding from me for a month. Your excuse for cutting me off is disgusting. I was too tall in heels? Are you serious?”

From his seat, Peregrine responded, “I warned you repeatedly, you brought this on yourself.”

Roderick growled, “This is preposterous. No one would use such a shallow excuse.”

Hermione stood interrupting him, “Lucien Crabbe in 1903 against Nicole Parkinson. Pregnant Nicole waited long enough to give birth to their son before throwing herself off her family's highest roof to avoid the shame.”

Thoros Nott cleared his throat for attention, “My friends, these loopholes demean the intent of these laws designed to protect against magical manipulation. Let us close them and create equitable options.”

A pensive man stood and addressed Thoros, “But we would leave the protections against mind magics and potions?”

“Yes,” answered Thoros, “this is only about abusive loopholes.”

“Then you have my support.”

“Thank you, Henrick.” Others began to offer their support as well.

“Hem, hem, there is still the matter of Miss Lestrange's claims about Mr. Cullen, and Miss Greengrass against Mr. Boles.”

Thoros sighed, “Those were obviously fabricated to demonstrate the point, Delores.”

Delores Umbridge primly pursed her lips in what she thought to be a demure moue of disapproval. She resembled a toad sucking on a lemon. “They lied under oath.”

“No one here is under oath, Madame Umbridge,” Amelia Bones reminded her in a sharp tone.

“Still deformation of character is a serious matter,” replied Umbridge.

“Oh please, no one would think any less of Miles Cullen if he had landed someone like Miss Lestrange,” snapped a middle-aged man.

“We cannot be seen as condoning such antics in these chambers.” Umbridge complained, “Miss Lestrange needs to apologize for her behavior.”

“No,” Hermione stated firmly.

“No?” Umbridge screeched, “No?”

“No, I refuse to apologize when deformation of character is your favorite political maneuver. Though you went above sending dementors after a fourteen-year-old or forcing children to use a blood quill.”

“I never,” Umbridge stood abruptly clearly insulted.

“And you never used an unforgivable on a student during your tenure as headmistress?” Umbridge began to sputter. “I think you should resign as we can't be seen as condoning such actions.”

“That is it, little girl. You cannot speak to your betters in such a manner. I will have satisfaction.” Umbridge pulled out her eight-inch wand.

“Not that you are my better, but anytime, toad, anytime.” Hermione pulled out her disguised crystal wand.

Thicknesse attempted to regain control of the situation, “Now, ladies, ladies, please. Let's not be too hasty. Delores, are you willing to throw away your career over some words?”

“These accusations cannot be allowed to stand,” she glared.

He turned to Hermione, “Miss Lestrange, I beg of you.”

“If by allegations, toady there means facts, she has some crimes to answer for.” Both women made their way to the lowest level.

Umbridge barely bobbed her head before lobbing a hex at Hermione who easily blocked it. In return, she silently shot three hexes: a stinging hex, a minor slicing hex, and a stunning hex. Failing to block the first, Umbridge suffered the effects of all three.

Hermione gave the older woman a second to recover. Umbridge attempted to disarm her. Hermione nimbly dodged and shot Snape's levicorpus jinx at Umbridge adding Helga Hufflepuff's charm for rotating roasting meat. A sticking charm maintained her dignity and prevented anyone from having to see her undergarments. Hermione waited for her to be facing her to speak, “Do,” pause, “you,” pause, “yield?”

“Yes, yes, let me down.”

“Liberacorpus.” Umbridge dropped heavily to the floor. Hermione offered her a hand in assistance, which Umbridge knocked aside. “So graceful in defeat.” Hermione made sure she had Umbridge's attention. “For once in your life do the smart thing. Let this go. Otherwise, I involve Mummy Dearest and the last moments of your life will be slow and painful. Worse than the centaurs.” She whispered the last part. Umbridge looked up at her in horror. “Yes, I know about that, too.”

Umbridge swallowed hard, “I understand. No problems from me, I swear.”

“Good.”

Hermione turned around and twinkled at the Wizengamot, “I apologize for that unpleasantness.” She returned to her seat.

Rodolphus flashed a smile, “Delightful little violent streak.”

“Your lord will want to see the memory,” she whispered back.

“Undoubtedly.”

Thicknesse cleared his throat, “Yes, well, moving on. All in favor of Thoros Nott's proposal?” Wands were raised. “All opposed?” A smaller number of wands were raised. “Very well, we agree to amend the current laws. Those interested in assisting should see Mr. Nott. Does anyone else have any business?” After a silent pause, “No business, then meeting adjourned.”

The Daily Prophet chose to focus on the duel rather than the legislative reform. Ron and Ginny laughed over Umbridge's humiliation. “I wonder how Lestrange knew about Umbridge?” questioned Ron.

“I'm sure someone in your year mentioned it to her,” Arthur told him. “It is nice someone dealt with Delores.”

“How so?” asked Molly.

“Lestrange defeated her, her statements stand. Thicknesse has Robard investigating. If proven she could be facing time in Azkaban.”

Ron's eyes lit up, “Really?”

“Yes, the two of you may be subpoenaed. You were aware of her escapades that year.”

Ron's chest puffed up at the idea of being in the spotlight again. The center of attention in exposing her crimes, since Harry and Hermione were gone. He could hardly wait. Things were looking up, Lavender's boss gave her tickets to the last World Cup playoffs. She wanted it to be a double date with Pavarti and Seamus. England was playing Bulgaria at the Cannons' stadium. He could hardly wait.

Chapter Text

Chapter 47 Social Events.

The Chudley Cannons stadium thrummed with energy as thousand of spectators filled it to capacity. Every surface seemed covered by the Union Jack or Bulgarian flag. Fans of both teams bought merchandise on the way to their seats. Hermione wore Marcus's jersey and a small Krum badge. “To support my childhood friend as he loses to my fiance's team,” she told a reporter. Once again she shared a box with friends instead of sitting with the other WAGs, with Neville and Harry joining them.

Neville accepted a bottle of butterbeer from the bartender. “I could get to this,” he joked.

“Right?” agreed Harry.

“Welcome to how the other half lives, Potter,” Blaise teased.

“Yes, yes, Malfoy opulence and all that,” Hermione teased.

Luna changed the subject, “Have you gotten to see Krum at all?”

“We're having lunch tomorrow. The two of us, Harry, Marcus, and his sister, Britta. She's starting work at the embassy in Britain soon.”

The players took the field. For the first time in years Hermione' attention was torn between two players. She watched Marcus zip across the pitch tossing the quaffle with the other chasers. But she also found Viktor, checking on him as he dodged bludgers while searching for the snitch. Blaise moved next to her, “Should I warn Marcus your ex might be an issue?”

She knocked his shoulder, “Old habit of trying to watch all my friends at the same time.” She cheered as Marcus scored another goal. Neville came up on her other side, handing her a drink. “Thank you, Neville.”

“You're welcome, Mione.”

“How are your parents?”

“Good, good, clean bills of health all around. Thank you, again for everything.”

“You're welcome. I hope the treatment helps more people.” She paused, “How are things with your gran?”

“Getting better. She's starting to see now how manipulative Dumbledore was. And what her blind allegiance cost us.”

“I'm glad things are improving.”

“How goes your list?” Neville asked quietly.

“Coming to the end of it I think. The older Order members weren't abused by Albus for some reason.”

“They followed him blindly already because of Grindelwauld,” Neville suggested. “Any idea when it all come to a head?”

She shrugged, “Who knows? Just like no one knows what will set it off. Then there's always the possibility it never does and they just fade away.”

Draco acknowledged them, “Anything is possible.” Their attention was stolen by the seekers diving after a golden speck. Hermione shook her head sadly, “At least this time he didn't catch the snitch and still lose.”

Luna caught her hand, “Come on, we're expected in the team box.”

“See you all later,” Hermione waved.

The reporters swarmed the players as their friends and family congratulated them. Hermione purposely held back, wanting Marcus to have his moment of triumphant in the spotlight. Without her the questions were less likely to be about their engagement. Once he finished his interview, he began searching the crowd, clearly looking for someone. He grinned when he spotted her and swiftly made his way to her side, “Hello, little dove.”

“Congratulations, brute.”

“We're going to the finals.” He looked stunned when he said it, as if the thought had just now sunk in.

“I know. I'm so proud of you.” She hugged him, “I love you.”

Instantly his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. “I adore you.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. A flash from a photographer's camera reminded them of the location, bursting the little bubble they created. “Want to escape?”

“You have no idea.”

He released her, grabbing her hand, “Let's go then.” She laughed as he pulled her behind him out of the box and towards the exit.

“Did you have a destination in mind?” she asked.

“Yes. Our bedroom. We have three days off and I want to spend every minute in bed with you. Maisie can bring us food or we can leave it long enough to forage.”

“What will we be doing in said bed?”

“Anything we want, cuddle, spoon, make love, watch telly, hell, we may even sleep!” He paused at the door of the locker room, “You are available for the next few day, aren't you?”

“You're in luck this time, Adrian mentioned the break if you won, so I cleared my scheduled,” she grinned.

“Next time I promised to think ahead and clear plans with you.”

“That would be appreciated. Though you should start with a shower.” She winked at him before entering the floo.

He shot after her. He emerged into an empty parlor. He looked about for a sign of Hermione. In the doorway he saw a shoe. From the doorway he found its mate in the hall. Her socks directed him around the corner. He found her jeans and knickers on the stairs. Her bra hung off the doorknob of the bedroom. Marcus pushed the door open to find Hermione lounging on the bed in his jersey. She looked up at him though her lashes, “Shower,” she pointed towards the en suite.

“After that striptease?” he asked with a raise eyebrow.

“You smell like a goat, bathe.”

“How do you know what a goat sounds like?”

She sat up primly, “My primary school visited a farm. Now shower, goat boy.”

“Goat man,” he corrected.

“Semantics. Please shower.”

Marcus crossed his arms, “I don't know, what do I get?”

“If you shower, a naked fiance. If you don't I will find my great-grandmother's fannel nightgowns and wear them to bed exclusively.”

“Has anyone ever told you how cruel you are?” He clutched his chest in fake pain.

“Many people, often. Changes nothing,” she answered dryly.

Finally he broke down laughing, “Don't be naked when I come out. I want to take the jersey off.”

“Okay,” she smiled as he left.

-O-

Hours earlier, Lavender's seats proved to be less amazing than Ron's last World Cup experience, but he was there, at his beloved Cannon's stadium to see his national team play. And Viktor Krum would be playing, too, just like last time. He and Seamus splurged and bought each of them a flag to wave. Pavarti and Seamus held hands while Lavender clung to Ron's arm. He smirked at the numerous men appraising her date. They could look all they wanted, she was his.

The seats were in the middle, the middle of the field, the middle of the stands, the middle of the row. All three of them assured the blonde the seats were great. Ron produced his omniculars from the last match he attended all those years ago. The four of them took turns looking through them. Pavarti was people watching when she noticed a luxury box filled with their former classmates. “Okay, Lav, six boxes up, two to the left. Tell me the real world has not been good for Neville!” She handed over the looking device.

“Hot damn! Who knew Herbology lead to such muscles!” Lavender exclaimed.

“Right?”

Seamus fake coughed to get their attention, “Should be be concerned, ladies?”

Pavarti threw herself at him, “Don't be silly. You know we love you, too.”

Lavender hugged Ron, “You're the only man for me.”

“Too right. Relax, babe, the match should be starting soon.” He took the spy glass back.

Curiosity got the best of him. He looked where the girls indicated. He didn't think Longbottom looked all that different. The figures moved around and he saw Draco Malfoy. Ron sneered to himself before he saw something that stopped his heart. Tousled black hair and round glasses flashed in the background. Not only was Neville Longbottom hanging out with Malfoy, but so was Harry. Ron frowned. Malfoy was a Death Eater- the enemy. Now he knew Harry was under some kind of mind control. He would never willing associate with known killers otherwise. Briefly he considered charging over there, but he doubted the others would be much in the way of back up. And he doubted Harry and Neville would of any help. He'd have to alert the other Order members, like Tonks and Shaklebolt would know what to do. With great effort he returned his attention to the match, handing the glasses over to Seamus.

-O-

The British group met the Krums on the corner near their hotel. Together they made their way into muggle London, away from pushy fans and nosy reporters. “Do this often?” Viktor asked.

“Sometimes,” Hermione shrugged, “ the press doesn't follow us and there are more food choices.”

“I shall keep that in mind,” Viktor looked about at the bright signs.

Harry selected an out of the way pub with an odd name. “Well, they almost all have odd names,” he joked. Britta twittered at his little joke.

Once seated, Viktor turned to Hermione, “You have been a very busy woman. Fancy research trips, jet settings to see high profile matches, and getting engaged.”

“You forgot influencing legislative and societal change,” she teased.

“My apologies,” he pretended to be contrite.

“You are excused. This time,” she sassed back. “Did you enjoy Argentina?”

“Very much. Thank you for the sunscreen spell.” Viktor turned to Marcus, “Ready for Italy?”

“I hope so. I guess we'll find out in Barcelona.

Hermione smiled at Britta, “Every thing arranged for your move?”

“Da. The Embassy found me an apartment in Diagon Alley.”

“A small building next to the Weasley shop,” Viktor added, “very easy to find.”

Harry nodded, “We should introduce her to the twins. Always good to know your neighbors.”

Hermione nodded, “Good idea. While I do caution you to never eat or drink something you did not see them prepare, they are wonderful men.” Britta raised an eyebrow. “They operate a joke shop filled with inventions they created. They like to prank. Protect yourself as possible.”

“That might be the best advice I have received about my move,” Britta smiled shyly. “I do worry about meeting people.”

Marcus chuckled, “That is about to be your last problem. Hermione mentioned your upcoming move to her Aunt Narcissa. She has a list of social events to invite you to.”

“That will be good networking for work as well,” Hermione pointed out. “The Malfoys are the cream of society. They will be a big help.”

“Oh, because the Lestranges are all that low on the pecking order,” snorted Harry.

“I was being humble. It's called tact, you fuck rag,” Hermione snapped back. The table laughed. While Viktor and Marcus discussed game tactics, Harry and Hermione chatted with Britta over the meal.

During farewell hugs, Britta promised to let Hermione know when she arrived in a few weeks. Hermione insisted they would have a welcome dinner for her to meet people her own age before Narcissa threw her into the deep end. “Thank you, for everything, Hermione.”

“You're welcome. See you soon,” she promised.

-O-

Frustrated with Tonks's repeated dismissals about his concerns, Ron went to Kingsley Shaklebolt. “Ron, seeing them with someone they previously had conflict with is hardly grounds for search warrants and auror raids. Dora said she told you that already.”

“She did,” Ron muttered. Louder he said, “Why is everyone so against helping Harry?”

“We aren't, Ron, but we have no evidence he needs or wants help. Attending a social event with someone you don't like is hardly evidence of being held captive, in fact it sort of indicates the opposite. Ron, you need to face the idea that Harry is a prisoner and is forming his own alliances,” Kings said kindly.

“He isn't. He wouldn't abandon the Order!” Ron shouted.

“Ron, we're losing the war. The Death Eaters stopped their violence. They've become progressive and compassionate. People no longer fear them. Stop worrying about Albus Dumbledore's greater good and start worrying about what's good for Ron.”

That ended the conversation, but not Ron's pout. Adding to his agitation Arthur began mentioning his need for employment, repeatedly. But a lack of NEWTs and less than stellar OWLs did not open many doors to opportunity. Molly kept dropping hints he should ask the twins for a job. All three of them ignored her. Eventually he applied for and was hired for help at Three Broomsticks. He kept the storeroom stocked and the floors swept. Madame Rosemerta promised if he did a good job there would be promotions and raises.

-O-

Narcissa invited Marcus to their weekly tea a week after the playoffs. “I was promised wedding planning once the World Cup was over.”

“Which it isn't,” Hermione pointed out.

“Close enough,” replied Narcissa, “and be honest, how involved do you intend to be?” She gave them a stern look.

Hermione considered the question seriously, “I want final approval, and some initial input. And I will be selecting my dress. But with the minutia of which napkins or tablecloths, or silverware pattern, I could care less.”

“Splendid,” Narcissa clapped her hands before turning to Marcus.

“I would like some say in the menu.”

“Of course, that goes without saying. Should I involve your mother? Bella already threatened to hex me if I tried to force the issue with her.”

He shrugged, “You can ask her, who knows what she'll want.”

“Typical with that woman. Now, when?”

“Um,” Hermione looked at Marcus, “what do you think?”

“No quidditch during September or October, not to close to the holidays, so those are good months.”

“My birthday is in September, so October?”

“That's fair. How about October 9th?” he suggested.

Hermione thought about it before agreeing, “October 9th in the afternoon at Lestrange Hall. Reception to follow again at the Hall.”

“I'll let Roddy know. Attendants?”

“Luna as my matron of honor, Vanessa and Alex as bridesmaids.”
She paused, “And Britta Krum. That way Marcus can have his best friends. I'll ask her when she gets here next week.”

“Ades as my best man, and Graham, Peregrine, and Cassius as the groomsmen.”

“Very well. We will meet every so often during the next four months to go over planning.” Narcissa beamed at them.

“Sounds like a plan then,” Hermione gave her a half smile.

All of their friends excitedly agreed to partcipate in the wedding party. Harry looked a little forlorn, but also didn't want to take Britta's place. Hermione smiled, “Actually, I was hoping since you wouldn't have official duties, you could make sure Britta is comfortable.”

“I would love to, I like her.”

“Me, too. And if you could help run interference with Alva that would be great.”

“Can I subcontract for assistance?” Harry asked innocently.

“Two questions, one, do you mean the Weasley twins, and two, am I better off not knowing?”

“Yes, and probably,” admitted Harry.

“Then don't tell me anything. But if you disrupt the festivities Aunt Narcissa will end you.”

“Noted and will be passing that warning off to any compatriots that may or may not exist.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

“You're welcome. Though, if I ever manage to get married, I expect you to be my maid of honor.”

“Noted, and if it occurs I will be ready.”

“You're not going to insist I'll find someone someday and be as happy as you are?”

“I don't believe in divination, so I have no idea what is going to happen in the future. And I totally understand trust issues after what happened. We can talk about it if you ever want to.”

“Thanks, for understanding, and not wanting to make me talk about it.” He sighed, “Probably need to face some of it sooner rather than later.”

“But not today,” she patted his hand.

“Not today,” he agreed.

Chapter Text

Chapter 48 Life in the Time of the World Cup

Before departing for Spain, Hermione made two appointments for dressing hunting, one for herself and one for bridesmaids dresses. She sent the details to Narcissa, knowing her aunt would handle the finer details. Her aunt often reminded her that the wedding was in fourteen weeks. “Because it sounds shorter than three and half months,” she told Marcus as they joined the team for the portkey to Spain.

He squeezed her hand, “The season is almost over. Then I can help. I will also be all yours until March.”

“After which you will be training and playing until August.”

“Then training and playing until August,” he repeated in confirmation. She grinned and bumped him with his shoulder to show she was teasing.

“But no World Cup, so I'm yours again.”

“There is that,” she said wistfully. He kissed her forehead. “And this is something I agreed to. Just like you agreed to crazy research trips.”

I did. Though, happily for me, your grandfather is keeping you occupied close to home.”

“Grandfather? All my grandparents are dead, adopted or otherwise.”

“I suppose technically he would be your mother's lover, but he acts like your grandfather. Ask anyone,” Marcus shrugged.

Hermione gave him a measured look, “You may have a point.”

“Thank you,” he squeezed her hand again as they grabbed the portkey.

The team arrived to much fanfare and excitement only seconds before the Italian team. Camera bulbs flashed. Fans cheered. Reporters yelled out questions. Hermione hung back as the team became engulfed in the throng. “You are Flint's woman, yes?” a deep voice asked behind her.

“I am,” she answered turning around. A dark haired slender man stood unacceptably close to her.

“Such a beautiful woman deserves a better man. One that would show her off. Forget him, cara, come with me.” He attempted to take her hand.

“I'm engaged, please leave,” she frowned.

“Ah, cara, engaged is not married. I will worship you, shower you with expensive gifts, show you exotic sights.”

“I already want for nothing. I desire a partner, not a lapdog. I don't need things. And inside your pants is not nearly as exotic as you think.” She glared, “Go away.”

“Silly woman, you call think those things in the beginning.” He switched languages. “Once you get a taste of my cock you will change your tune,” he murmured seductively in her ear.

Horror and rage battled for dominance. The man displayed confusion when his tone did not cause her to melt into his arms. In a low voice Hermione responded, “You have ten seconds to apologize and leave before I walk over there and tell Marcus and the international press what you just said to me.”

He scoffed, “Because the press will believe the word of Flint's latest jersey chaser over Rosco Bianchi.” He spoke in his native tongue, so she responded in kind.

“Let's find out, shall we?” She stalked over to Marcus, who immediately wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Marcus, that man over there just propositioned me. I told him I was engaged but he insisted I would change my mind once I tasted his cock.” She sniffled like she was about to cry. “I said the no one would believe me if I tried to report him for harassment.”

Marcus looked her in the eye, and once he realize this was a show of rage not panic he began playing his part in her little drama. He pulled her to his chest, wrapping both arms around her. “I'm so sorry, little dove. I'll have the matter reported immediately.” He looked up at the half a dozen reporters surrounding them, “And you all believe her, of course.”

“Absolutely. Miss Lestrange, I know you are feeling put upon, but do you have plans for Mount Cicero?”

“I have some things in the works, once they are concrete I will be making an announcement.”

“Are you excited to watch Flint play?”
She beamed and looked up at him lovingly, “Always.” He smiled down at her. They gazed adoringly at each other as a photographer snapped their picture.

Adrian approached them when they left the press. “What did Bianchi want?”

“To be disgusting,” Hermione replied, “I need a hundred showers.”

Marcus kissed her forehead, “We'll clobber him in the match.”

Adrian chuckled, “I understand. He's a Lothario with delusions of adequacy. Marc and I spent a weekend stealing fangirls from him. Now he tries to return the favor.”

“I wouldn't want to be with any girl he would,” Hermione shuddered.

“Yeah, that's why we only did it once.”

As quidditch matches went, Hermione found the World Cup Finals to be anticlimactic. The English players operated on the same wavelength, moving in sync as they flew up and down the field. The Italians never stood a chance. England took a commanding lead early on and never relinquished it. The beaters spent a good amount harassing Bianchi. The seeker never had a second of peace during the match. The capture of the snitch occurred with little fanfare. Hermione cheered with everyone else, but it seemed too easy, a foregone conclusion. Everyone simply went through the motions, like it wasn't a competition at all. The wait for the players went longer, but she assumed there was more celebration amongst the team, more reporters all having questions and wanting quotes from everyone.

A squat young woman with coarse black hair slipped into box unnoticed. She glanced around, smirking when she found her target. She beelined for Hermione. “Miss Lestrange, you are a most slippery woman.”

“So, you know who I am, but alas, I cannot say the same.”

“Olivia Blackwell, Wizarding Gazette. I've been trying to arrange an interview with you for months.”

Hermione frowned, “I don't do interviews.”

“Just a few questions, short and painless.” Olivia wheedled, “Not like you can run away.” Hermione's eyes narrowed. Olivia grinned in victory. “First question: why has no one heard of you before now?”

“Because the Lestranges when to prison.”

“Why not have Mrs. Lestrange's sister raise you?” Olivia asked in rapid response.

“I never asked. As I was a toddler at the time my opinion wasn't asked.”

“So where were you? Who raised you?”

Hermione shook her head, “I would prefer not to say as to protect their privacy. They do not deserve to have vultures descend on them.”

Olivia frowned, “Since you didn't attend Hogwarts, did you attend Durmstrang or Beaubatons?”

“Neither. Look, I don't give interviews because I don't like talking about myself, especially about things that are no one's business.”

Undeterred, the reporter continued on, “How long have you known Marcus Flint?”

“Quite some time. We knew each other when we were younger and recently reconnected. Childish fancy gave way to a more mature attraction.”

Having come over as reinforcements, Luna glanced at the floating parchment and Quick Quotes Quill. “That's not what Hermione said. And she does not have a scheming expression,” protested Luna.

Hermione snatched the parchment. She scanned the article while Olivia protested. Much like another sensational reporter this one spun half truths and fantasies painting Hermione in a poor light. Deftly she plunked the quill from the air and snapped it in two. “Hey!” protested Olivia.

“Another reporter thought her stories needed more flare than fact. She's why I don't trust or like reporters. This is why I refuse interviews. Your like cannot be trusted. Thank you for reinforcing this for me. I will point all future seekers in your direction to explain what you did. Print one word about me in your miserable rag and I will let my viciously overprotective parents deal with you. Now be gone.”

Luna stood shoulder to shoulder with her, both glaring. “You broke my quill.” Olivia complained.

“Better than your face,” retorted Hermione. “Now leave before you have to explain why you're causing a scene.” The square woman fled.

For the remainder of the evening Hermione felt annoyed. The wizarding world needed better libel laws. Sure the muggle tabloids printed exaggerations and lies, but not the reputable newspapers. She gave the players a brief recap of what happened to explain her poor mood in the face of their victory.

-o-
On the heels of England's victory, Luna triumphed by hosting a dual surprise party for Harry and Neville. She glowed for days afterwards humming happily. She had asked Hermione to review her supply list before shopping.

“I'm sure it will be fine, Lu.”

“This is my first adult party. I want everything to be perfect. You make being super organized so easy. I struggle with it.”

“Your talents just lie elsewhere,” Hermione assured her.

“I know. And since you are talented in organization I'm asking for your help.”

“Okay, hand me the list.” She looked it over. “Looks good to me. Treacle tart for Harry and chocolate cake for Neville.”

After his birthday Harry began seriously considering getting his own place. “Newlyweds don't need a third wheel hanging about.”

“If you're sure, mate. We don't mind,” Marcus told him.

“I'm not going far, I want to stay in London. Do something like Mione and Blacks did. Or not, anyone wanting to fly can pop over here or out to a country estate.”

“Very true.” Hermione agreed.

“I'm thinking a townhouse. It has more privacy than a flat and more room. Better chance of a garden, too.”

“Sounds like you know what you want,” said Hermione.

“For the most part. My account manager got me the information I need to give the realtors.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck, “Can you go house hunting with me tomorrow?”

“Sure, after dress shopping. Want to come to that?”

Harry shrugged, “Why not? How bad can it be?”

Famous last words and all that. Six hours in Harry had new respect for Hermione's patience. He knew what kind of dress Narcissa favored. What kind Alva wanted. And that no one was really paying attention to Hermione. Her eyes were a little wide and growing wilder by the second. The corners of her mouth tightened slightly. Her right eyebrow had a slight twitch every seven seconds. He hadn't seen her this stressed since third year. She was moments from pulling out her eyelashes. He just didn't know why she was wound up.

“Don't fret,” Vanessa assured her, “we'll find your dream dress.” The muscles in Hermione's neck tightened.

“You just need to visualize how you always imagined walking down the aisle would be,” Luna said in her airy voice. Britta nodded in agreement. Hermione's frown deepened.

“Or what style of dress makes you feel beautiful,” Alexandria offered.

Narcissa smiled, “Or we can move onto the next shop.”

Hermione nodded blankly. She picked up a dress from the pile at random and moved on autopilot to the fitting rooms. Harry followed her. “Mione,” she froze at the sound of his voice, keeping her back to him, “talk to me.”

“Nothing to talk about, Harry. These things take time,” she said in a dull voice.

“Bollocks. I know you. I know what you look like when you're stressed. I've seen Hermione meltdowns. You are thirty seconds from ripping your eyelashes and screaming. I want to know why. Talk to me.”

She turned around, tears standing in her eyes, “Still nothing to talk about.”

“Yes, there is. Why are you upset?”

“Because I'm never going to find my dream dress because I don't have one. I never imagined a wedding because I never believed I would ever get married. No one wants the boring bossy swot. Not for forever. With Ron, Molly would have planned everything, and I would have looked horrible in something fussy and old fashioned. That I would have hated. The anxiety of those thoughts is what prompted me to demand to make my own selection. Even though Narcissa could have chosen one faster.”

“You said these things take time,” Harry pointed out.

“She would have been faster,” grumbled Hermione.

“And you would have been unhappy.”

“Since when has my happiness ever mattered to anyone?” she snapped angrily.

“It has to Marcus everyday since you gave him the time of day. To me since I broke the hold of those potions. To everyone who would be horrified if they knew how upset you are. Which you know because you're hiding it to keep from upsetting them.”

She shook her head, “It doesn't matter, Harry.”

“What you wear? You're right, it doesn't. Marcus would adore you in sackcloth rags. But your happiness does.” He took her hands. “You matter.” She tried to pull away. “Nope, you've helped me with everything under the sun over the last few years. I intend to return the favor. Take a deep breath and clear your mind.” She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “Good. Now, imagine the most beautiful bride possible.” When she frowned, he continued, “No, not yourself as the bride, a stranger. Picture the most stunning woman ever as the bride.”

“Okay,” she sounded uncertain, but scrunched up her face in concentration. “Got it.”

“Describe her. Fluffy ball gown or slim skirt? No, don't open your eyes,” he commanded.

“Full ball gown,” she answered.

“Are there sleeves or straps?”

“Organza sleeves that billow a little at the wrists.”

“Heavy decoration or light?”

“Heavy decoration on the bodice, light on the skirt.”

“Does it have a train?”

“Yes.”

“Short, traditional, or cathedral?”

“Cathedral.”

“Is she wearing a veil?” he asked.

“Yes, with a tiara headpiece.”

“What color is the dress?”

“Champagne.”

“You can open your eyes.” He smiled at her, “Wait here.”

“What? Where are you going?”

“To get the kind of dress you really want.” He ignored her protests and returned to the shop floor.

Narcissa looked concerned not to see Hermione with him. “Where's,” she started.

“I'll explain in a minute.” He looked at the shop girl, “Miss? Would you bring us champagne colored dresses with ball gown shirts. Heavy decoration on the bodice, light on the skirt, with a cathedral train?” After she left he turned his attention on the group. “None of you know her well enough to recognize the signs of a panicked Hermione that is emotionally shutting down. But she was.”

“Was?” questioned Bellatrix.

“Yes, was. I found a way around the hangups years of mental abuse caused. I asked her to remove herself from the equation. Now we have an idea of what she wants. And if she doesn't like it after trying on a few, we'll try again another day.”

“Why not today?” asked Vanessa.

“Because she's emotionally done in and needs to regroup. Marcus would happily marry her in her old white sundress, so this doesn't have to be so stressful. She's going to wear what makes her happy, and I will hex anyone who says a word against it.”

“I'm liking you more and more, Potter,” Bellatrix told him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 49 Wedding Things

The shop girl returned, “I have two gowns in champagne and three that can be ordered in the color.”

“Let's start with the two. That should give her an idea if she even likes it.” Harry responded taking them. He went back to where Hermione waited.

She looked at the gowns in his arms, “What are those?”

“Dresses similar to the one you described. Try them. If you truly don't like them we'll try again another day.” He handed her the first gown.

. The shop girl accompanied her to help with the zip and ties. Hermione purposely avoided her reflection in the mirror. Once the girl secured the dress, she emerged. She glanced at Harry, who nodded, grinning at her. She made her way out to the rest.

Narcissa clapped her hands, “Oh, darling, you look stunning.”

Luna nodded, “Just perfect.”

Hermione looked in the mirror. The dress fit her nearly perfectly. She looked like a bride, a real one, not someone pretending. Except, “Too brown,” she decided.

“Huh?” questioned Alexandria.

“The tan of the dress with my hair is too much brown.”

An older woman stopped at the group, “Have you considered ivory or shell pink? Neither is the bright of pure white, and both should compliment you well.” She considered something. “I have just the one. She returned with an ivory gown. “This one has a pink layer under the tulle. The sleeves are shorter, but I think you'll like to contrast.”

“Let's try it,” Hermione followed her to the fitting room. This time she looked in the mirror. “Yes, this is the right color.”

“But is it the right dress?” asked the woman.

She examined her reflection from several angles. The skirt billowed out, the pink layer peeking out from under the sweeping fabric. Pearls and crystals created swirls on the bodice and down the skirt. The sleeves ended at her elbows, they were not as flowing as the other dress but felt right for that one. Pearls and crystals decorated the cuffs. Finally, she answered, “Yes, yes it is.”

“This dress has a matching veil with pink piping. Want to give the assembly the full effect?”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Be right back.” She popped out, flashing Harry two thumbs up.

This time Hermione emerged beaming, full of confidence. He nodded his approval shining in his eyes.

“Oh, Hermione, you looked stunning,” Vanessa exclaimed.

Luna clapped her hands in delight, “Simply perfect.”

Narcissa looked at the older shop clerk, “How soon can you get a dress in Hermione's size delivered?

“This one fits her nearly spot on, and we only have it because it was ordered last season for a bride who changed her mind after the dress came in. You can have this one.” She frowned, “Though, even after the discount since it is last season, this isn't a cheap dress.”

Hermione chuckled, “Harry, would you get my black card out of my purse.” She looked at Bellatrix, “I know Daddy wants to pay for it, I'll send him the bill.”

“Of course, sweetie, whatever you think is easiest.” Bellatrix faked a smile for the shop employees. Alva glared at Hermione's display of wealth.

Narcissa nodded, accepting the white garment bag, “Next Saturday we'll meet and get the bridesmaids' dresses. Friday, Alva, Bella, and I can get dresses.”

Alva left with barely a nod. Hermione looked at Narcissa, “Would you discretely inquire if Esme and Cressida have the available funds for new dresses? The last thing we need is for the Clearwaters to make gold-digging comments.”

“And those hypocrites would,” Narcissa frowned.

“How soon until they discover the apothecaries are pretty much defunct?”

“And day now, I'm sure,” Bellatrix laughed.

Harry lead the way to the realtors, “There is a chance he will assume you are my pregnant wife, I may have let slip about expecting a baby. Then I never corrected his assumptions when I said we wanted to look at some properties today.”

“You owe me,” she told him.

“I know.”

Ian Sebring greeted them warmly, “Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter, how lovely to put a face to the voice on the phone.”

“Hello,” Harry replied as they sat.

“If you would go over the things you want in a home, I can narrow down the selection.”

“As I said before, we want to stay in London. A townhouse, rather than a flat.”

“We would prefer to purchase rather than rent,” Hermione added. “And a garden in a must.”

“Yes,” Harry continued, “and five to six bedrooms, we want family to be able to visit and stay. And a garage, we don't drive often, and would like to not have to be constantly moving the car.”

“An open floor plan would be nice, but isn't a deal breaker.”

Ian shuffled several files on his desk. “I have a few properties that may fit your needs. Are you sure about purchasing? Financing can be difficult for young couples.”

“Purchase,” Hermione told him, “In cash, today if needed.”

Harry handed him a fresh copy of his financial records, “My banker prepared this for you.”

Ian's eyes grew as he perused the paper, “Th-thank you,” he struggled to keep a professional mask up. “This will help immensely.”

“As your price range doesn't exist, I have three properties for sale in London with your specifications that we can look at today. If none of them tickle your fancy, I have two more we can look at before I reach out to other agents.”

“Sounds like a good start,” Hermione smiled at him politely.

The first townhouse stood sandwiched between two others in a row of five. The bedrooms were on the small side, the garden barely more than a patch of grass. The stone walls dividing them gave no privacy, and worst of all: the houses attached in the attic. Both gave it a hard pass.

The second was in Kensington on Warwick Gardens. The townhouse stood on the corner, detached from the two rows lining both streets it connected. The two-car garage entered in to the house. The vast garden included a small pond. The six bedrooms had large windows and plenty of floor space. “We don't need to look any longer,” Harry declared, slowly spinning in a circle, “this is it.”

“Agreed,” Hermione looked at Ian. “Offer them 500,000 less than the asking price and we'll pay cash today.”

“Let me make a few calls,” Ian pulled out his mobile and stepped into the next room.

Harry wandered around looking out the windows. Hermione frowned, “Have you considered what you'll do if the baby is Rowle's?”

“Live in my amazing house and perhaps someday start a family with someone.”

“Just checking.”

“Thanks.”

Ian returned, “Do you like the furnishings?”

Harry looked at Hermione in confusion, “They're okay. Why?”

“Full asking price and they are yours. The house belonged to the seller's father. He died suddenly and in debt. She hates to sound vulgar, but she needs every penny to pay it all off. She lives in New Zealand and neither needs any of it nor can afford to ship any of it.”

“Deal then,” Harry agreed. “Anything we don't want, we can get rid of easier. Saves me from having to redecorate.”

“You think that,” laughed Hermione. “But I agree. Some of these are antiques that deserve more than ending up in a landfill.”

“Splendid, I will draw up the papers and get this ball rolling.”

Harry focused on moving. Narcissa kept Hermione's attention on wedding plans. Which caused her to be surprised by the newspaper article announcing changes to social obligation laws. Smirks were exchanged over the breakfast table. Nor were they the only ones feeling smug. Miles away near the village of Ottery St. Catchpole a pregnant witch also felt triumphant. Under the changes, Rowle could be made to marry her and provide for their child. That the baby could belong to two other men was of no consequence. This was her ticket out of the Burrow and having to keep working.

Arthur refused to enter the petition, so she went to her mother. Seeing her dreams of her daughter marrying well, and financially taking care of her parents, rising from the ashes, Molly raced to submit the paperwork. Rowle fought her every step of the way, warning her this was a mistake she would regret. But she refused to be intimidated. A late October wedding was planned at the Burrow as soon as her petition was granted.

Despite her demands for a quiet birthday, the girls turned Hermione's birthday into a bachelorette party. “I didn't want one of those either,” she grumbled to Marcus.

“Ades told me I had no choice in the matter. The most I could get out of him was no strippers and that's because he's afraid of you.”

“Smart man, I knew I liked him.”

Angelina excitedly offered passes to the VIP lounge of Wizarding Pleasure's, her business with Seamus, newest nightclub, Liaisons. “Only thing to determine is which party Harry attend?” laughed Britta.

The wizard in question shrugged, “I can come with you lot to ogle the men with you lot.”

Hermione smiled, “Your choice, love.”

In reality, it ended up not mattering which party Harry chose because he attend both, they all did. Adrian had made arrangements with Seamus for the exact same passes. Cheerfully, Hermione celebrated the end of her single life by grinding on her fiance. Much to Adrian's displeasure. “You're supposed to be mixing with strangers!”

“Why? Everything I want is right here,” Marcus gestured to Hermione.

“Exactly,” she agreed, rewarding him with a kiss.
“You two are killing me,” Adrian grumbled. “You get to have each other for the rest of forever. Go dance with someone else.”

With a wicked gleam in her eye, Hermione advanced on Adrian, dipping her hips seductively with each step. “Let's dance then, sexy.” She ran her hand down his chest.

“Uh.”

“None of that,” she tapped his nose. “You said to dance with someone else. You are someone else.”

“Not me!” he protested. “Marc, help me.” He looked at this best friend.

“Next time be more specific. Hermione likes exploiting loopholes.”

She gave a low husky chuckle, “I really do.” She fisted the front of Adrian's
shirt. She tugged on it, urging him to follow her.

“You know what? You should dance with Marcus. Tonight is about having fun.”

“Too little, too late,” she cooed at him. With a last wicked glance, she whipped around and began to gyrate in front of Adrian, who stared at the ceiling trying to keep from touching or being touched. When the song changed, Marcus saved him.

“The naughty wizard learned his lesson. Come dance with me, he's learned his lesson.”

She pretended to pout, “Are you sure?”

“I am. If you want tomorrow I will regal him with all the dirty things the hot witch I took home did to me.”

“Deal.” She gave Marcus a sultry look of promise.

“You wouldn't,” Adrian protested. “You refuse to talk about Hermione.”

“That is so sweet, but you can make an exception this one time,” she purred. “You should give him all the details.”

“You're bluffing,” Adrian said harshly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, “Am I? You'll never know. Tomorrow Marcus will tell you all kinds of stories, and you won't know what is or isn't true.”

“You are a horrible person.”

“I know,” Hermione smirked.

Eventually, Marcus left her to dance with her friends. He joined Peregrine at the bar, watching the girls dance outrageously together. He glanced at one of his best friends since childhood who simply shrugged, “That's your woman out there.”

Marcus smirked, “Yep.” He silently sipped his drink, noticing Potter might be appreciating all the sights on display, but he danced the most with the female Krum. He wondered if anything was going on, not that it was anyone's business, just a passing thought. Finishing the drink, he saluted Peregrine and went back to join Hermione as she and Luna played a silly game of striking suggestive poses. Graham gave him a stupid grin when he noticed Marcus's return. They closed down the club, shuffling towards the floo at 2 am. Yells of birthday greetings filled the air over the noise of the crowd.

Harry turned to Hermione as they arrived home, “Happy birthday. We'll have lunch, or dinner, later. Please use silencing charms.”

“Excuse me? You use silencing charms, it's my house, you know.”

“I know, but still,” Harry sighed.

“Just for that we're having sex on the kitchen table,” she shot back.

“If you do that you'll just break the table,” smirked Harry.

“And fix it with magic again.” She took Marcus's hand and lead him towards the kitchen, leaving Harry to question the again part of her statement.

“Um, are we actually going to have sex on the table?” asked Marcus uncertainly.

“I don't know. Do you want to?”

“Not particularly,” he answered.

She nibbled on her bottom lip, “Is there somewhere you do want to?”

“Are you sober enough to go swimming?”

“Most of this is just adrenaline high. I drank very little.”

“Go swimming with me then?” he breathed the question against her neck.

“Absolutely.” They left a trail of clothing as they made their way through the house, undressing one another as they went. Completely naked Hermione sashayed over to the diving board. Smoothly she jumped in, sending ripples through the water. He stood watching her swim on her back, her slender body on display just for him. “Planning on joining me anytime soon?”

“Just admiring the view.”

She made a show of slowly looking him over, leering at him, “It is nice. But I wanted to explore it up close, not just look at it.”

He cannonballed into the pool, splashing her. “Me, too.” She retaliated by splashing back. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. “None of that now.” He kissed away her protests, nipping on her lips and licking the sting away. She kissed him back matching his fervor.

Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist, breaking their snogging off to trail small kisses down his neck, across his chest, and back up the other side. He dropped his head back allowing her better access. He stood supporting their weight in the pool, groping her arse. Hermione moaned and wiggled until she aligned their body parts. Slowly she sank onto him, then raised herself. She repeated the process moaning at the pleasurable sensations. Marcus's hands on her hips urged her to increase her pace. She ignored him, keeping up her leisurely speed. “Little dove, you're killing me.”

“But in a good way,” she kissed him.

“In the best way,” he assured her. “But I'm not going to cum like this.”

“Me, either. I just wanted to enjoy this before we move elsewhere.”

“Did you have a suggestion?” He squeezed her hips.

She leaned close to his ear, pressing her breast against his chest. “I want to be bent over the stone fence in the garden and be taken from behind, hard and fast,” she whispered huskily in his ear. His hands gripped her hips crushingly. “Interested?”

“Fuck yes. Apparate us.” She dropped her legs and spun in the pool, taking the two of them and a decent amount of pool water. The second they landed next to the wall, he turned her around and pushed her shoulders down and over the wall. She silently cast softening and cushioning charm on the top of the wall. Swiftly Marcus entered her, the momentum pushing her forward into the wall.

He set a punishing pace, barely giving her time to respond to his thrusts. She braced herself against the wall on her elbows, moaning loudly. Each push in and pull out hit and dragged across every nerve inside her. Her breathing grew ragged and her cries louder as the delicious tension tightened. She clenched down on the upstroke, eliciting a deep moan from Marcus. He increased his strokes. Hermione arched her back, keening as she came, “Holy fuck, Marcus!” She slumped forward back onto the wall, her thighs and knees trembling. Marcus groaned, then roared his climax. He sat on the ground, pulling Hermione into his lap. “How did that match up with the fantasy?”

“Beyond imaging,” she sighed, leaning on his chest, snuggling into him.

“I aim to please,” he gave a little laugh. “Any other fantasies?”

“Numerous, but none tonight.”

“Yeah, that was amazing,” he paused.

“But we're both exhausted,” she finished.

“You said it. We should head to bed.”

“And collect our clothes, wouldn't want to traumatize Harry too much.” She stood on shaking legs. “But feel free to tell Adrian every detail.”

Marcus climbed to his feet, “No, talking about you like that feels wrong. You're not some desperate groupie. I'm going to let him torment himself by just telling him we had sex somewhere in the house and he should be careful where he sits. Hopefully, Harry frightens him with the kitchen table suggestion.”

“Nice,” she laughed.

Hand in hand they entered the house and began collecting clothing items as they came to them. “So, Hermione, that was a very specific fantasy.”

“It was.”

“Can I ask where it came from?”

She looked away, embarrassed briefly. “Promise not to laugh or take the mick?”

“If I laugh you'll never tell me another one. And I can't imagine anything worse than that. So, I will not laugh.”

“It was from a scene in a smutty romance novel. And let me tell you, the reality was hotter than the fiction.” She kissed him. “I hope it forms a pattern.”

“Me, too.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 50 Wedding of the Season

For wedding colors, Hermione chose azure and violet. At her request, Narcissa left the menswear to Marcus. The week before the bridesmaids' dress shopping Narcissa dragged the mothers dress shopping. She ensured both had acceptable dresses in appropriate colors for their roles at the event. She also invited Esme and Cressida to join the group the following week. “Merrick has given them permission to spend as much money as I deem necessary.”

“Good,” Hermione responded. “And the more the merrier.”

Having two blonde bridesmaids and two brunettes, Hermione elected to dress the blondes in blue and the other two in purple. “I want you all to find dresses you like and then I'll pick from your choices,” she instructed them. She then turned her attention to her soon-to-be sister-in-laws. “Any thoughts, ladies?”

Cressida bobbed her head, “I've had my eye on a set of formal robes since Marcus proposed.” She headed for the front display.

Esme looked about, “I'm not sure. I want something classy. I'll be meeting some of Percy's family. I don't want to embarrass him.”

“I doubt anything you picked to wear could embarrass him. I'm sure he's far more worried about the twins embarrassing him. They do like their pranks.”

Luna giggled, “Lucky for you they fear Mione more than they love pranks.”

“They know when to behave,” defended Hermione.

All four bridesmaids agreed on the same dress. The glittery halter top wrapped around the neck held up the rest of the satin dress. The softly draped neckline rested on the bodice creating a pleasing neckline. The bodice glided down to flare out just below the waist. Hermione had to agree it was perfection. It would compliment each woman. “Let's see if they have one in each of your sizes.”

The group talked Esme into a sheath dress with a double slit to the knees that would allow her to walk normally. The deep burgundy color suited her coloring. “I have the perfect garnet set you can borrow,” Hermione promised. “And aquamarines set in platinum for Cressida.”

“Aren't you supposed to be borrowing something?” asked Cressida.

“Sure, but that doesn't mean I can't loan out some things, too,” Hermione answered. “The phrase you're looking for is 'Thank you, Hermione.'”

“Thank you, Hermione.”

“You're welcome.”

Dresses settled, menu selected, flowers ordered, invitations sent out, Narcissa declared the planning complete. For the last two weeks, they had no appointments, no errands, no obligations. Voldemort invited her to review the preparations to begin implementing the Muggleborn Initiative with existing muggleborn students. “I decided Hogesmeade should be the site of our first cinema house,” Voldemort told her. “We won't have to hide construction.”

“And it will give the students more to do on village weekends,” Hermione observed.

“Yes, there is that. Severus reports Professor McGonagall and the liaison agents will be ready for next school year.”

“Excellent. Though we should look into protecting magical children from childhoods like your own and Harry's.”

“In those cases, they can move in with their mentor family or another.”

“You've given this great consideration.”

He inclined his head, “I have.”

“No more poor unfortunate souls,” she smiled sadly.

-O-

On October 8th Hermione headed to Lestrange Hall while Marcus returned to Flint Lodge. She walked into the foyer only to have several Clearwaters knock into her as they stormed out. Rodolphus calmly followed them. The front door slammed shut. “Found out those businesses are practically defunct, did they?”

“They did, and they discovered that they paid for most of that farce they called a wedding.”

“Poor dears. Do you suppose they will boycott my wedding in protest of their mistreatment?”

“Not a chance!” Penelope declared. “This is the biggest social event of the fall. Anyone with an invite will be there, including my family. And despite the setback to their ambitions they will want to remind everyone how connected to the bride they are.”

“Barely?” pointed out Hermione.

Penelope tittered, “Not quite how they would put it.” Hermione laughed with her.

Rabastan wrapped an arm around his wife, “I would say be nice, but your family annoys me no end.” He looked at his niece, “Joining us for the night, little witch?”

She shrugged, “Alva wanted Marcus to come to the Lodge today, and Harry's moved into his new place. I didn't want to be alone.”

Penelope took her hands, “I completely understand. All those nervous thoughts running through your head.”

Bellatrix looked her over, “You want to run, way the word. I'll help. But if you let the show start you're out of luck.”

Hermione shook her head, “I'm not nervous about marrying Marcus, my concerns are about what comes after.”

“You already live together,” Rodolphus told her. “Pretty much the same thing. Just continue the way you've been and you'll be fine.”

Dinner was a light informal affair. The family discussed the ramifications of adding muggleborns to their lives. “Not all of them are going to be as educated as Hermione,” groused Bellatrix.

“Yes, but the Dark Lord has been quite clear,” her husband told her. “And I'm sure Hermione and Penny will take the brunt of the work in the early years.”

“Certainly,” said Penny. “While not impossible, it is highly unlikely a young child would be coming to live with us. Our first experiences will be at least twelve, if not older, and only for a few days.”

“Exactly,” Hermione agreed. “We aren't going to be handed toddlers.”

“Plenty of those soon enough,” laughed Rabastan. Penny blushed.

“Are you?” asked Rodolphus.

“Not yet, but we're not trying to prevent anything,” answered Penny. She turned to Hermione, “What about you?”

“We haven't given it much thought, or discussion. We'll need at least one. And honestly, I hated being an only child. I want at least two, maybe three.”

“Not seven?” teased Rabastan.

“I'm good, thanks. That may be some people's cups of tea, but not mine.” She sipped her drink. “I suppose sooner or later we won't try to prevent anything, or slip up and forget,” she shrugged. “I suppose after tomorrow it doesn't matter.”

“No, it doesn't,” Rodolphus assured her.

“I'm still too young to be a grandmother,” Bellatrix told her.

Hermione giggled, “Won't you always be too young?”

Bellatrix looked thoughtful, “You're not wrong.” The table laughed and continued eating.

-0-

The autumn sun shone the next morning, promising a beautiful day. Penny tapped on the door, poking her head into Hermione's room. “Good morning, Narcissa asked me to come to wake you. She said you needed a good breakfast to see you through the day. And she's not wrong.”

“I'll be down in a few minutes. Thanks.” Hermione stretched.

“See you, then.” Penny left her. She climbed out of bed and slipped on her silk robe, seeing no reason to dress when she would be undressing soon enough.

She skipped down the stairs to the informal dining room. Narcissa sat at the head of the table, reviewing the plans for the day with the rest of the family. “Good morning, darling. Eat up, we have a big day.” She turned her attention back to Rodolphus as Hermione served herself breakfast. “The caterers are arriving at ten. The florist will be here around eleven. The string quartet should be set up by noon. The guests will be arriving at twelve-thirty. Everyone should be in place by then. They all know what is at stake.”

“Does Draco know you're using this as a practice run for his wedding?” her sister asked.

“Don't be silly, highly unlikely his bride and her mother will let me help. Such is the downside to male children,” she sighed.

“Then they are fools,” said Bellatrix hotly.

Narcissa looked surprised, “Thank you, I think.” She looked at Hermione, “The bridesmaids will be here in an hour. Luna wants to perform the cleansing baths even if you aren't having a traditional ceremony. She wants to return the favor. Dora will be bringing Teddy over after his nap around noon. Maisie will be bringing you a light lunch around then. The ceremony starts promptly at one.” She made eye contact with everyone and then gave them a nod.

Rodolphus addressed Hermione, “Bas and I have something for you. We went to the family vault and collected a tiara for you.”

She returned his grin, “Is this where you say it isn't a big thing and then produce an elaborate crown?”

“No, this is where I tell you that this trinket appears and disappears. It can only be found to be worn by a bride when the marriage will be a happy one.”

“Does this mean bad things for Uncle Bas and Penny?” she asked concerned.

“We didn't look for it,” Rabastan confessed, “you found her a headdress, remember?”

“I did.”

Rodolphus handed her a green velvet box. With trembling fingers, she opened it. Nestled on the velvet cushion, a diamond and pearl crown twinkled at her. It reminded her of the Spencer tiara Princess Diana often wore. Reverently, Hermione picked it up with her fingertips. The long teardrop pearls dropped with gravity. “You approve?” her father asked.

“I do. It is gorgeous. Thank you.” She replaced the crown and stood. She rounded the table and hugged them both tightly.

“Hermione, the girls are here,” called Narcissa.

“I need to go. See you in a few hours.”

Coiffed and made up, Hermione sat in her silk robe nibbling on cheese and fruit when the door to her bedroom flew open and Teddy toddled in followed by his mother. “Look at this handsome young man,” cooed Vanessa. “Aren't you a heartbreaker in training?” The girls made over Teddy who lapped up the attention.

Tonks slipped over to Hermione's side, stealing a grape. “Ready for this?”

“Who knows?” Hermione swallowed down her nerves again. “How can anybody know if they are ready?”

“That's very true.”

“But I do know Marcus is the one I want to find out with.”

“Well, there you go. The ring bear wanted to come see his Mione before we join the boys.”

Teddy climbed into Hermione's lap, patting her curls. “Ring bear?”

“Yeah, 'cause he's a teddy bear,” Tonks laughed. “It's Remus's joke, by the way.”

“It does seem like a corny dad joke. Tell him I laughed.”

“I will, all right, little man, time to get you to the groom.” Teddy held up his hands like paws and roared. “Oh, what a ferocious bear. Luck for me, I'm a brave auror.” She scooped up the laughing blue haired boy and waved as they left the room.

Narcissa entered as they exited, “Time to get dressed, ladies.” She moved to Hermione's dress bag and removed her gown. In what felt like forever and no time at all, Hermione examined her reflection: gown, tiara, jewelry, and all. “Simply perfect,” Narcissa brushed away a tear. “You look stunning.”

Luna grinned at her best friend, “Marcus might forget how to breathe.”

Alex barked a laugh, “Good for him, Hermione knows what to do in an emergency.”

“And keep a cool head doing it,” Britta added.

“I seriously doubt that his body will forget such an important automatic reflex, but sure.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Oh, sarcastic Hermione means she's a nervous Hermione,” laughed Luna.

“Or an awake Hermione,” the bride snapped back. The rest laughed at their antics.

At ten minutes to one, Narcissa returned to collect the bridesmaids, “Roddy will be here to escort you in five minutes.” Hermione nodded her understanding.

At the three minute mark, the door opened. Harry slipped inside. He whistled, “Don't you clean up good? Forget all this Flint crap, run away with me instead.”

“If I thought you meant that, I would at least consider it,” she told him, “for the thirty seconds it took us to determine it would

“I know. I just wanted to see you before you took your little flower carpet walk.”

“I appreciate that and if you don't ask if I'm ready or nervous.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” he assured her. “Can I ask you to save me a dance later?”

“Yes, you may. And I will. And we're getting lunch in three weeks when I get back from the honeymoon.”

“Where are you going?”

“Black Island, Sirius gave me the portkey and attuned the wards to me back in 5th year. I was supposed to take you there if we ever decided to do a runner and just take off.”

Harry nodded, “Good of him to give you an escape, too.”

She shook her head, “I think my safety would have just been an unintentional bonus. I never used it because I knew you would never be willing to run and stay lost.”

“Very true, but that is neither here nor there. One of us is willingly getting married without someone being pregnant. I'm thrilled for us.”

“You say that like it nearly happened,” she replied sarcastically.

“That said, I'm grateful you broke those spells on you and you were a good enough person to want to heal me, instead of hexing me and handing me over as is. I wouldn't have been healthy enough or rational enough to have discussed anything.” He took her hands, his tone somber, “I would be dead, Hermione. I can't thank you enough.”

“Yes, you can. You can be the friend I always thought you were. My second oldest friend, after Neville. My best friend.”

“Always,” he promised. “Don't cry. If you ruin your make up Bellatrix will kill me because she let me into the house. She'll know who made you cry.” He pulled a small bag out of his pocket. "Luna just told me they forgot to do the borrowed blue thing. I told her I had you covered. Your veil and dress are something new. Your tiara is something old. The ribbon on your flowers is something blue."

"And my knickers," she supplied.

"Thanks for an image I neither asked for nor wanted."

She giggled and rolled her eyes, "Sorry, not sorry."

"Anyway," he opened the small bag and a pence fell out. "My mum had this in her shoe when she married my dad. Her mum used it. As the sister of my heart, I want you to put this in your shoe as your something borrowed."

She threw herself at him, crying, "Oh, Harry!" He hugged her tightly. "Slip it in for me?"

Harry bent down and slipped the coin into her right shoe. Rodolphus knocked on the door. “That's my cue to vamoose. See you on the other side.” He slipped passed Rodolphus out the door.

“Everything okay, princess?”

“Yes, Daddy. Harry just wanted one last word with Hermione Lestrange.”

“I see. Shall we?” He offered her his arm.

“I think we shall.” She took his arm and he lead her to the doorway of the back terrace. The music changed and swelled. The doors swung open.

As they slowly marched down the aisle, Hermione glanced at both sides, hoping to recognize someone, anyone really, that she personally knew. Fleur gripped Bill's arm, one hand pressed to her chest as she admired Hermione. The twins gave her thumbs up. And Percy smiled at her from his place at Esme's side.

Flowered arches decorated the staging area in front of the assemblage. Marcus stood with his groomsmen and Yaxley, the ministry official marrying them. The man had been most insistent about it. Now, he smiled broadly at the sight of Rodolphus walking her towards them. Marcus simply stared, his eyes shining. He caught her eye and maintained it until they stood in front of them. Yaxley addressed them, “Who brings this witch to be wed?”

Rodolphus leaned over, under the cover of kissing Hermione's cheek, he whispered, “In the place of Malcolm Granger,” he stood and louder stated, “I, Rodolphus Lestrange, have brought her.” He placed her hand in Marcus's. “Care for her or I will know why.”

“Yes, sir,” Marcus nodded.

Yaxley addressed the crowd, “We have gathered here today to bear witness to this couple swearing binding oaths to one another.” He addressed the couple, “Grasp one another's right hand.” Hermione beamed up at Marcus as she took his hand. He grinned down at her.

“Hi,” she mouthed.

“Hello,” he mouthed back.

Yaxley cleared his throat to gain their attention, “Hermione, please make your vow to Marcus.”

She tightened her grip on Marcus's hand, “Love is the beginning and end of everything. I love you, my husband, now at the beginning of our lives just as I will at the end, from today, tomorrow to every day.”

Yaxley nodded and turned to Marcus, “Marcus make your vow to Hermione.”

“Love is the beginning and end of everything. I love you, my wife, now at the beginning of our lives just as I will at the end, from today, tomorrow to every day.”

“By the power of your words, and the authority vested in me by our Ministry of Magic, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.” The wedding guests applauded as Marcus pulled Hermione into his arms and kissed her soundly.

When they pulled back, she whispered, “I love you.”

“And I you,” he whispered back. “Ready to face the throng?”

“I am,” she answered. He placed her hand on the inside of his elbow.

Yaxley grinned, “Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Marcus Flint.” Again they applauded as Marcus escorted her back down the aisle and into the house. Narcissa organized them into a receiving line leading into the largest ballroom.

Harry hugged her tightly and shook Marcus's hand. She recognized a third of the guests, through all of them offered the warmest of wishes. Nora and Oakley embraced both of them, Nathan and Ethan solemnly shaking their hands, causing Hermione to giggle. A few social-climbing former classmates greeted them, most not seeing what was right in front of them, but one or two glances back in confusion or thought. Hermione's facial expression never changed. The Clearwaters attempted to be overly informal, which neither the bride nor the groom gave much attention to. The photographer Narcissa approved snapped shots throughout the afternoon. He would leave after the couple shared their first dance, and with their parents. The Malfoy matriarch would then approve three for publication.

The evening proceeded impeccably, just as it had been planned. Once the dancing began, Hermione barely saw Marcus. She danced with Rodolphus, Rabastan, Harry, Lucius, and Draco in rapid succession. After a brief break, she graced the floor with each of the groomsmen and Yaxley. She escaped to the edges of the room, grabbing a glass of wine. She hid in the shadows, savoring her drink as she rested her feet. A quiet cough broke her solitude. To the right, Percy Weasley waited. She gestured to the empty chair next to her, “Have a seat, Perce. What's on your mind?”

“I'm considering proposing to Esme,” he confessed.

“That's wonderful,” gushed Hermione. “I'm sure she'll accept.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I know so. She is so the smitten kitten with you.”

“I'll pretend I know what that means,” he laughed. “I know the Flints are allowing their children to make love matches, but do you think I should approach Mr. Flint?”

Hermione thought for a moment, “I would. I would tell him that you feel ready to take this step, and while you know it is entirely her choice you want to include him in this. Marcus did something similar with Rodolphus.”

Percy nodded, “Not asking his permission to, just respecting the idea of letting him know, and nodding to the tradition, while moving into the modern age. I like it.” His face fell.

“What's wrong?”

“Mum always promised me that I could have Grandma Cendrella's ring to use as an engagement ring.

“Percy, I'm sure she would love to see you and hear you're wanting to get married and give her grandchildren.”

“Not once she learns who I want to marry. The Flints are firmly in the enemy camp in her book.”

“So ask Arthur for the ring, she was his mother, shouldn't he get a say in who gets it?”

“Actually, she left each of us a ring of 'engagement quality.' Grandmother's words, not mine.”

“Of course. I still say, go ask your father for what was left to you,” encouraged Hermione.

“I don't know. It probably isn't as fancy as Esme grew up expecting.”

“Then she isn't the girl for you. Being given a treasured family heirloom means more than wealth. Esme knows that. She adores you. You're everything she wants. Go talk to her father, collect the ring from yours, and ask her your question. And stop waffling.”

“Yes, Mrs. Flint,” his eyes twinkled with mischief.

Hermione fought to keep the goofy grin from stretching across her face at being addressed by her new last name. “Sometimes it is
very easy to see how you are related to Bill and Charlie.”

“Not Fred and George?” he asked curiously.

“No, those two would have produced doves from chocolates or mini fireworks while addressing me as such for the first time.” She made shooing motions.

At midnight, the newlyweds made their farewells and collected Hermione's beaded bag that contained their luggage. After Hermione returned Harry's coin she joined her new husband. Marcus stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her. She grasped her emergency portkey and murmured the activation phrase. Magic whisked them away from the cool autumn of England and dropped them into the warm spring of their hideaway island. The island sat hidden from muggles and wizards alike, just below the equator, not too far from St Lucia. “What time is it?” asked Marcus looking at the sun sinking into the horizon.

“Hmm, around seven, I believe. Isn't it beautiful?”

“Third most beautiful thing I will see today,” he said as he began to nibble down her neck.

“What are the other two?” she asked curiously.

“You walking down the aisle in this dress,” he said running a hand over her satin covered bust, “and you out of this dress under me.”

“I'm not out of the dress, yet,” she replied breathlessly. She squirmed at the image his words created.

“That's why it is things I will see, not things I've seen.” He pulled away and began undoing the buttons down her back.

She stepped away. “Nope, no sir, we are not having sex out here on the beach. Sand will get everywhere.” She began walking up the sprawling beach house behind them.

Marcus frowned as he followed her, “How do you know?”

“Because sand gets everywhere when you just swim in the ocean and sit on the beach. What do you suppose would happen if you rolled around naked out there?” She paused to look at him when she reached the wooden steps, “I can tell you. You get sand everywhere.”

Standing two steps behind her, Marcus swept her off her feet, “Then which way to the bedroom? I've spent the last two days imagining tonight, being teased about tonight, and I would like to get tonight started.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, “In the second door and to the right. The master suite is the fourth door on the left.”

“Got it.” He marched purposely into the house.

Chapter Text

Chapter 51 Spoiled Little Girl

The headlines declared it the Wedding of the Decade. The Beauty and the Beast, the genius Lestrange heir marrying the quidditch star. The Daily Prophet published a three page spread of photos. Every detail documented, the elaborate yet, classy, decorations, the clothes, the guests, all of it. Jealousy churning in her stomach, along with pregnancy nausea, Ginny Weasley devoured all of the coverage. She frowned at Luna Lovegood being maid of honor, but she was Luna Montague now, that might explain it. Again, something about Hermione Lestrange, now Flint, niggled at the edges of her mind, like she knew her from somewhere and just could not place her. The redheaded witch sighed, admiring the luxurious gown and fancy jewelry.

The Rowles refused to spend a knut on the wedding. And Arthur insisted they need to put money back for baby things. It would be at the Burrow, catered by Molly. Which meant, no five course meal with roasted venison and asparagus spears in an apricot glaze. It would be shepherd's pie and the like. Instead of a vanilla sponge cake with cherry chocolate ganache, they would be having plain yellow cake. Which, she admitted was better than spotted dick. Fleur stepped in and saved her from having to wear Molly's old gown. Her sister-in-law offered to remake hers, much to Ginny's relief. Her bouquet would be preserved wildflowers. Her father met every complaint with the statement that regardless of the plainness of the event the result would be the same, they would be wed. Ron reminded her that being married was what she needed to gain access to the family vaults. She hated waiting tables at the little cafe in Ottery St. Catchpole. Absently, she rubbed her stomach. She hated being pregnant, her skin itched, she constantly found new things she couldn't eat, and she was the size of a whale. The beginning of November could not come soon enough.

-O-

A mundane bell tinkled as Percy opened the shop door. Identical redheads appeared from the backroom. Eyes wide they slowly walked onto the show floor. “Hello,” Percy gave a small wave. “A mutual friend suggested mending bridges. So, here I am.”

“Come on in,” gestured George welcoming.

“Look around if you like,” invited Fred.

“Thanks, I will.” Percy walked up and down a few aisles before returning to his younger brothers, “This is brilliant, guys, simply amazing.”

George looked at Fred, “You really think so?”

“I do. Everything is so creative, then again you always were. I admired that, and your Independence. You were never afraid to go your own way, or do something crazy.”

Eyes shining, the twins engulfed Percy in a group hug. “Thank you. This means so much,” Fred told him.

George patted him on the back, “We should probably apologize for all the pranks over the years.”

“And the one you just pulled?” questioned Percy.

Fred shook his head, laughing, “And the one we just tried to pull.” He held up a powder packet. “Mood powder changes the color of your skin based on your mood.”

“Brilliant, but, um, not today, please.” George raised a teasing eyebrow. “I'm meeting Esme's father this morning, and Dad this afternoon.

“Esme?” Fred asked with a teasing lilt.

“My girlfriend, Esme Flint. I'm going to talk to her father about proposing. Then Dad to get the ring Gran left me.”

“Wow,” George's eyebrows disappeared under his fringe, “really?”

“Yeah, she's amazing,” Percy's face lit up, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “She's beautiful, kind, patient. She lets me talk about work without rolling her eyes.”

“Seriously?” asked Fred.

“She says she doesn't always understand, but she likes listening. She's been helping me with my syllabus.”

“Is she as in love with you as you are with her?”

“I hope so,” he tried to look nonchalant. “I enjoyed seeing you at Hermione's wedding. Maybe we can get together for dinner soon.”

Recognizing the olive branch for what it was, George accepted, “We should include Bill and Fleur, make it a proper reunion.”

Percy grinned, “Sounds great.”

Fred frowned, “I don't know if you heard, but Gin's getting married at the end of the month.”

“She is?”

“Claims Thorfinn Rowle knocked her up, played the pureblood princess card to trap him.”

“Hmmm, Esme mentioned a wedding at the end of the month, that might be it. I suppose I'll be there then.”

“Us, too. No one's pleased about it,” Fred told him.

“Well, except Ginny and Mum. Kind of, I think they both would have preferred Harry.”

Percy cleared his throat, “That won't even be happening.”

“We know.”

“Though he purchased a nice townhouse in London in case the baby is his.”

George looked surprised, “You think he's going to raise the baby?”

“If it is his, I think he is considering it. I don't know if he completely knows until he has to decide. Which is understandable.”

“Thorfinn might block the paternity test since they'll be married,” Fred pointed out.

“Doubtful, he's less than pleased with this arrangement. If the baby is Harry's, he can demand a divorce. A Potter baby is his ticket out of this,” Percy observed.

“Why not wait until after the baby is born?” George wondered.

“Mum and Ginny are going to push to skip the testing,” Fred reported. “I overheard half a conversation, but didn't put it together until right now.”

Percy frowned, “Our sister has always been stubborn, gets it from our mother. I suppose I shall see you next week for the wedding, then.”

“Train wreck, you mean.”

“That, too.”

Percy took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and knocked on Merrick Flint's office door. “Enter.” He turned the doorknob and hoped he looked more confident than he felt. Merrick stood when he entered, “Percy, my boy! What brings you by?”

“I wanted to speak with you if you had time,” the younger man
offered his hand.

Merrick shook his hand and gestured to a chair in front of his desk, “Certainly, have a seat.”

He sat, trying to keep his legs from bouncing. “I know you intend to allow your children to plan their own futures and find their relationships, which I respect and admire, but it feels wrong to consider asking Esme those kinds of questions without at least mentioning it to you. I know she values your good opinion.”

Merrick nodded, “I do appreciate the thought, thank you.” He settled back in his chair. “A professorship at Hogwarts is quite respectable. Have you considered living arrangements?”

“Professor Snape has offered me larger living quarters should Esme wish to live there. I am not a head of house, so I can live off-grounds if I wish. I intend to suggest looking at houses in Hogsmeade. There is also the option to do both. I am open to her preferences.”

“Do you intend to make her work?”

Percy felt confused, Esme didn't work at the moment, and he knew his income was comparable to Merrick's. “If she wants to? She doesn't have to, but I would never stop her from doing what she wanted.”

“Good,” Merrick nodded. “Not that you need it, but you have my blessing.”

“Thank you, Mr. Flint.”

“Call me Merrick, we're about to be family.”

“Thank you, Merrick.”

Percy caught Arthur before his father left his office at the Ministry. “Dad, glad I caught you.”

Arthur hugged him in greeting, “Me, too. How have you been?”

“Good, good. Everything is going well. This leads me to my reason for coming. I would like the ring Gran Cendrelle left me for an engagement ring. I plan on proposing to Esme soon.” He worried that his father would refuse him for a brief second.

“Of course, it's yours. Would you like to come to the house and collect it?”

“Certainly. Time to start rebuilding our bonds. The twins and I are getting dinner soon. They suggested inviting Bill.”

“Family is important, even those that aren't blood,” Arthur told him quietly. “Let's go surprise your mum.”

Together father and son entered the Burrow. “Molly, I'm home and I brought someone with me,” Arthur called.

Molly hustled into the front room from the kitchen, “What? PERCY!” she threw her arms around her son, sobbing her happiness into his chest.

He patted her on the back, “There, there, Mum. It is nice to see you, too.”

She released him, “Dinner will be finished in a few minutes. Nothing fancy, things have been so crazy with all the wedding planning.”

“I heard about that, Ginny and Thorfinn Rowle, a bit of a surprise.”

“It certainly is, but a new life joining the family. So many blessings.” Molly beamed as she returned to the kitchen.

Arthur's frown deepened, “The thing you asked after is in here, son.”

“Oh, thanks, Dad.” He followed his father.

Arthur led him into the small study. He watched him remove a small green satin bag from a drawer. He paused for a moment and removed two more. “This one is yours, and these are the twins'. It might be prudent for you to take them with you.”

“Dad, are you okay?”

“I'm not sure. I do not support this wedding. Ginny pushed for it for all the wrong reasons. I worry about what will happen in the future.”

“You didn't petition for it?” Percy asked.

“No, your mother did. I didn't want to embarrass her by opposing it. But I worry about what happens after the baby is born. I expect all three of them to be miserable, and that is not what I want for my child or grandchild.”

“I understand. Gin's been playing with fire for a while now. She's going to get burned in the end. I'm not sure where we will be living with my new job, but my door is always open to you if you need to talk or get away for a night,” Percy trailed off, leaving the idea of a longer stay left unsaid. “I'll get these to the twins, or hold onto them until they want them, whichever they want.”

“Thank you, son.”

Molly soon called them to dinner. His youngest brother briefly wrinkled his nose at Percy, but soon turned to shoveling food into his mouth. Ginny waddled into the room, her stomach rounded. She gave Percy a half smile before sliding into her chair. “Hello, Gin, ready for the big day?”

“Which one?” she asked, gesturing towards her abdomen.

“Both, I suppose.”

She shrugged, “I guess. I'm ready to be married and ready to not be pregnant.”

“That's good,” Percy replied lamely.

Molly smiled at him, “Will you be able to come to the joyous event, Perce?”

“Uh, yeah, my girlfriend's family received an invitation from Rowle.”

Molly perked up, “Your girlfriend?”

“Yes, her name is Esme, she's lovely. We met through mutual friends last New Years'.”

“Is it serious?”

“I'm thinking of proposing soon, so I suppose it is.”

“Does she come from a good family?” inquired Molly.

“She's a pureblood if that's what you mean,” he answered uncertainly.

“No, blood status doesn't matter. Who is her family?”

“The, uh, the Flints.” The only sound for a few minutes was Ron's eating.

“I see,” Molly looked uncomfortable. “I'm sure she's lovely. We'll meet her at the wedding, yes?”

“We will be there. I'm sure she'd be delighted to meet you.”

“I have little to no interest in meeting Molly Weasley,” Esme told Alex. “She's been horrible to Percy and Hermione.”

“Yeah, I've heard stories. On the plus side, I don't think she has much interest in her sons, all her focus is on her golden daughter,” Alex sympathized.

“You mean gold digger daughter, right?” Esme quipped back. “But I adore Percy, so I can put up with his mother for his sake.” She played with the cup in front of her, “Are you going to the wedding?”

“No, my mother had a school days rivalry with Mrs. Rowle, so we didn't rate an invite. Not that the family is too excited.”

“Who would be? Your son fooled around with some little girl and she's forcing her way into your family now? So tacky,” Esme rolled her eyes. “And if I ever marry Percy she will be my sister-in-law.”

“My sympathies,” Vanessa deadpanned.

“You're not sorry, you cow,” Esme laughed.

“You're right, I'm not.” They both laughed.”Sorry, I'm not sorry?”

Begrudgingly, Esme admitted to herself that the wedding in the orchard was not tacky. The rustic look of do-it-yourself paired with the apple orchard in autumn created an intimate ambiance. She squeezed Percy's hand. He looked relaxed except for the set of his shoulders. He smiled at her, in gratitude. She gracefully shook hands with his siblings as he made introductions. She made mental notes of the ones he seemed more at ease with. She greeted his mother who faked her way through a conversation about happiness and a future with Percy. His father hugged her and expressed his hope they could welcome her to the family soon.

The ceremony lasted mere moments, the bride and groom exchanging banal and the barest bond. The reception after lasted only a few hours. The meal was hardy and well prepared, Esme made a note to ensure the house elves knew how to prepare the meals Percy relished. Due to the bride's advanced pregnancy, there was no dancing. But it wasn't the disaster Esme and Alex thought it would be.

Ginny plastered a smile on her face throughout the entire day. She hates how cheap everything was, regardless of the compliments of others. She nibbled on the heavy food, not wanting the bloated feeling of a full stomach, just in case Thorfinn changed his mind about not having sex. She knew he was just being dramatic and pouting because she won. She would just have to console herself with lovely things. At 10 o'clock he collected her and transported her to their new home. “Your bedroom,” he pointed to a door. He entered his room without giving her a backward glance. She sighed, he could have his little wobbly, she was Mrs. Rowle now.

Two days later she went to withdraw funds from their vault. The large stone room echoes with emptiness. Only a small pile of gold coins sat in the middle. When confronted Thorfinn laughed, “I told you that you would regret this. There is no money. My grandfather squandered all of the family money on his mistresses. We, my sweet, live off my salary. So, don't get any delusions of shopping sprees or fancy things. Your family isn't swimming in galleons, so just live as you did then.” He gave her a wet smacking kiss on the cheek, “Good night, wife.” He managed to make the word wife an insult. He whistled on his way out the door leaving her alone for the night.

The first week of November a glowing, tan Hermione bounced through Harry's front door, “Hello, darling!” she sang.

Harry hugged her, “Hello, yourself. You look like you had a good time.”

“The best,” she purred. “How have you been?”

“Bored. Neville helped me plan out the garden, we're going to plant it this spring as part of his mastery. Luna promised that the house is free of nargles, which is good.”

“So, you're just waiting for Gin to pop?”

“Yeah, though I think Britta might fancy me.”

“Took you long enough. Even Marcus noticed.”

“Thanks, you couldn't mention it?”

Hermione shook her head, “And have you run for the hills or act strange around her? Nope. How do you feel about her?”

Harry shrugged and looked at his feet, “I don't know. She's nice, funny, sweet, and she's pretty. But, I can't trust myself. I thought Ron and Ginny were my friends. I thought they were both amazing.”

“Okay, so how about we do a potion detox? If there are none in your system nothing will happen. And I can scan you for influence magic. That way you can know you aren't being influenced. Would that help?”

Harry thought about it, “Yes, not like all the time, but if no one is influencing me now, then I doubt she would in the future. Maybe, but I need to start trusting somewhere.”

“You know you can talk to me. You can also talk to Britta. She knows some of this. Explain how you feel, and what you're thinking. Take your time deciding what you want.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

They sat in silence for a few moments before she broke the silence. “Harry, have you considered whether Ron influenced you to be bisexual.”

Harry laughed, “Nope, I can reassure you with perfect certainty that I like guys and girls. Did you ever notice Oliver Wood's arse?”

“I have. Saw him not long ago. It is still a very fine arse.”

Harry sighed, “That's good. It should be declared a national treasure.”

“I wouldn't go that far,” she laughed. “But I can admit my bias.”

Harry reported that Britta has been understanding of everything. She agreed they should move slowly, and make an effort to build trust. She held his hand while he waited for the detox to take effect. She simply smiled when nothing happened. “We take this one day at a time, Harry. If we are meant to be, we will be. If you find someone else, you have but to tell me and I will wish you well.”

“You're far more likely to find someone easier to be with,” Harry pointed out.

“Not today, I have not. Tomorrow will take care of tomorrow.” She kissed his cheek. “Enjoy today.” He nodded mutely, and they sat holding hands, enjoying one another's presence.

As Ginny's due date loomed, Harry spent more time, often overnight at Courtaney Ave. Five days after the Flints returned from their honeymoon, three days after Britta promised to take things glacially slow with Harry, a magpie patronus flew through the kitchen and circled over the breakfast table at Courtaney Avenue. “Ginny's gone into labor. Dad said to let you know.”

Pale, hands shaking, Harry looked at Hermione, “What do I do?”

Marcus answered, “You report to St Mungo's, inform them you cut her off but want to establish paternity. There is the slightest chance that Rowle could block it as her husband, but I get the feeling if it isn't his kid, he wants out.”

Green eyes, wide with panic, begged his best friend to help. “Let's finish eating, Varl's cooking is vastly superior to hospital food.”

“You'll come with me?” Harry asked in a small voice.

She rolled her eyes, “I am not going to dignify that with a response.”

Marcus guffawed, “Of course, she is, Potter. And I will be bringing you meals throughout the day. Then again they might offer to just notify you when it is time to test the baby. In that case, we'll watch brainless television all day.”

“Thanks, Flint.” Harry attempted to finish eating.

Hermione polished off her food, she stood and kissed her husband, “Thank you, brute. I love you.”

“Anything for you, little dove.”

Hermione looked to Harry, “Ready?”

“As I'll ever be.”

“I'll take us. The last thing you need is to splinsh yourself.” Hermione took his hand.