The Peony Girl

by sliverlilly

Summary:

Mr. Evans always prided himself on his family, a garden filled with flowers of beauty, reliance and hope. When a woman comes knocking on his door the summer of his youngest daughters 10th birthday he realizes how truly magical his flowers have turned out to be.

Notes:

Disclaimers: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfiction.

Thank you for checking out this piece, It came to me when thinking about some of the imbalance in the golden trio's dynamic. I've always been a fan of Marauder Era works, so here is my take on this.

Chapter 1: I'm Sorry

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“All I ever wanted was to reach out and touch another human being not just with my hands but with my heart.”― Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me

---

A small girl with bushy hair stood in the doorway waiting- Always waiting.

 

“Hermione darling, you understand? We won't be able to make it to your recital; we have a conference this week. Mrs. Everton will be checking in on you- don’t forget to brush, yes, twice daily.”

 

“Sorry, sweetie, this trip is just for your father and me. We have a conference, but you’ll be okay with the neighbor for a bit, right? It’s only a week.”

 

It’s okay, I understand

 

“What no, I can't right now, sweetie. How about you read those books Papa got for you while I work on this?”

 

“No, I can’t, not right now, sweetie. I have to finish this call. Maybe we’ll do that tomorrow.”

 

It’s alright, I understand

 

“Oh, top marks in 6 subjects? That’s nice, but… what's this? What happened here in math..”

 

“Oh, you’re the odd one out on this, eh, Hermione? How about you pair up with that group? It might be a bit unbalanced.. But we can work on that.”

 

It’s okay, I understand

 

“Ugh- no, she’s so weird; all she wants to do is read..FINE, I’ll play with her, but you owe me.”

 

I’m okay, I understand..

 

“She thinks she's so much better than us because she’s top of the class- what a bucktooth nerd.”

“What a bushy-headed nightmare, always trying to tell us what's wrong.”

 

No, I get it. I understand..

 

“I’m sorry darling, we missed your birthday, but I put some money into your account for some books and bus fare. We'll pick up some of your favorite takeout if we have time today.”

 

That sounds lovely. I understand..

 

“Ew no, she’s so ugly- blegh”

 

I, I-I understand..

 

“Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Granger- I just have to say, Miss Hermione is extraordinary. She's dominated the district-wide testing grades; she's easily marked the top percentile and currently holds the fastest time for completion and highest marks we’ve seen in years…. But we do see some issues socially...”

 

It’s okay, Papa- Mama, I understand..

 

“Your daughter’s a witch”

 

“We won't have time to spend together before you leave, but we’ll drop you off at the station. We can’t have an owl coming to the house or, God forbid, the practice, so you’ll have to give us a report when you get a chance through normal mail, okay?”

 

No, I understand…

 

“She’s just so mature for her age, we don’t have to worry about our Hermione.”

“She’ll be fine, she’s always been independent.”

“She’s always lost in a book or homework. She won't miss us.”

“She’s insufferable”

“She’s a know-it-all”

“mudblood”

 

“She’s a real nightmare, no wonder she doesn’t have any friends.”

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

      Even in the midst of tragedy, there was something beautiful etched into the afternoon sky, a soft ember haze combined with a cornucopia of flashing lights, sparks of magic- of silver wisps of unimaginable joy tangled into the depraved desires of dark wizards and creatures alike. An entire world of great and noble myth came alive only to extinguish the lives of those who desperately dreamed of a chance to truly experience it.

 

    Hermione cried out as she struggled to fend off the death eater in front of her. His mask was half cracked, showing glimmering pale skin, and sweat from his forehead dripped down his face as it was swallowed by his malicious grin. His eyes followed Ron’s bright red hair as he rushed to save Lavender from Greyback. He had promised her, apologized, and sworn to never again leave. He had kissed her in the Chamber of Secrets after destroying the cup, yet he had left her in a second- he had never looked back as this monster moved to prey on her.

 

“You’re all alone now, mudblood.” His low timbre slithering into her ears and seizing her mind.

 

  Her heart was beating, her hands shaking as she non-verbally lobbed a langlock at Dolohov, her mind closing in as her scar seemed to come alive-it was the department of mysteries all over again. It struck true as his face twisted in anger. He began to sprint toward her-flashes of red and yellow jumping from the tip of his wand. She could feel his magic, it burned past her face her arms and ripped through her scar as if the dark remainder responded to his will.

  She turned to run, casting a protego as she jumped over a crumbling wall, trying to put some distance between them. She tried to control her breathing as she ran, turning down a corridor-the screaming muffled as her heartbeat seemed to drown out the noise of the battle around them. She felt it the moment the disgusting tendrils of his magic began to wrap around her body- in an instant her legs and arms were enveloped in ropes, some slithering up around her neck and mouth as she fell. She knew the moment Ron left her that she was dead, she was never as skilled in dueling as Harry. She would never be able to take down one of Voldemort’s most long-standing and sadistic followers on her own. Her face slammed into the stone floor, causing her to cry out as blood filled her nose and mouth. There was a crunch under her shirt as a stinging pain dug into the skin of her chest.

 

Dolohov simply looked down, his face pained with disgust as he used his boot to roll her onto her back, only smiling once he noticed her choking on her own blood. He moved his hand to wave over his face; a glimmer of magic sparked from his fingertips as the finite was cast.

 

“I learned from our little dalliance in the department, mudblood.”

 

  He removed the remainder of his mask, tossing it to the side as he walked slowly around her prone form. He licked his lips as he noticed her tears, the small whimpers she made as she struggled against his conjured ropes. He glanced side to side, the corridor she led him down ended at a dead end. Not a single soul shared the space with them. He chuckled as he leaned down to straddle her hips, another wave of his hands and the ropes around her neck vanished. She struggled against his weight, tossing and kicking her legs and body as hard as she could. Her whimpers turned into gurgles as blood flowed faster as the adrenaline surged.

 

“The golden mudblood deserves a more personal experience. I’ve been waiting to pay you back for a while now.”

 

  His eyes darkened as he wrapped his hands around her neck, his breath fast as he stared into her honey-colored eyes. He tilted his head, taking in her fear; his malicious smirk slowly formed as she bucked, his hands instantly tightened.

Hermione looked up as he strangled her, her vision darkening around the edges, yet there was an unmistakable pleasure taking over Dolohov’s face. He shuddered as he squeezed harder. She could feel the muscles in his thighs bunching and trembling as they squeezed against her hips and legs.

 

  She didn’t want to cry in front of this monster; she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, yet there was nothing that could control the flow of tears. She knew this was it, there was a tearing, stabbing feeling withering under her skin as fear and desperation rose. Not like this, she didn’t want to die like this- alone under the hands of a sadistic blood supremacist. Her life flashed before her eyes, small moments just waiting. Waiting for the moment someone would realize they could choose her first.

 

Waiting for her parents to come home.

  Waiting for someone to pick her to partner with.

 

Waiting for someone to be her friend.

  Waiting for the days to pass to enter into the magical world she’d only heard about.

 

Waiting for other witches and wizards around her to accept her.

  Waiting for Harry or Ron to choose her too.

 

Waiting for someone to truly know her, truly want her.

  Waiting to finally be enough just as she was.

 

Waiting for the day she understood why no one gave as much as she did.

 

  She was given a slight reprieve from Dolohov’s punishing grip as the wall beside them exploded. Stone rained down over the both of them, crushing them under rubble. Stone cracked into Dolohov’s skull, instantly killing the monster. His mangled face fell across her as his ropes that held her disintegrated- the magic fading as his heart stopped. The stinging pain from her chest intensified-the time turner she had strung around her neck, cracked once with her fall split even more as stone rained on her chest. Her blood mixing with the time sand, Dolohov’s blood overflowing onto the crumbled shards, blending seamlessly into hers as a golden glow grew from her chest.

 

  She couldn’t breathe, the stone crushing her into Dolohov’s cooling body. She couldn’t feel her arms or legs, yet a fiery burning sensation trembled under her skin, her magic swelling and colliding with the growing golden glow emanating from her chest. Between the cracks of the rubble, she saw a brief flash of brilliant red, flames surrounded her as she recognized the trilling cry of Fawkes.

 

Crying out in agony as the burning sensation intensified, a horrible tugging digging into her stomach as a red and golden light blinded her.

 

I don’t understand.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

 

Jan 30th, 1960 at 3:30 am

 

Thunder rumbled outside as the rolling thrum of rain started to fall, tapping along the roof of the hospital. The wind was violent as heavy drops drummed against the hospital window- a rare January rain.

 

“You’re doing great, Mrs. Evans. We see the head. I need you to bear down the next time you feel a contraction.”

“ Mom’s BP is 138/85, babies heart rate is 145.”

 

“Alright, the little miss is almost out, take a deep breath and push.”

 

The doctor gently moved the drape forward in order to get into a better position, the nurses around him read the vitals of mother and daughter. Mr. Evans stood slightly to the side of the bed, holding another bundle in his arms as he leaned over just enough to whisper encouragement into his wife’s ear.

 

“Rose, baby, you can do this; you’re almost done. You’ve done so beautifully so far.”

“This is the last one, Louis- I mean it, this is the last one you’ll ever get from me!” Rose screamed.

 

Rose barred down, clenching onto the metal railings as she groaned out. Slowly the baby pushed out into the doctor's waiting hands. Quickly passing the babe to another nurse as he cleaned up and made sure she passed the placenta. There was silence, only the noises of monitors beeping and rain falling as nurses worked to clean the second baby. Louis leaned down, resting his forehead against Rose's, gently kissing her before asking her if she’d like to hold their other daughter. She gave him a shaky smile, nodding while lifting her trembling hands to cup the tiny girl. She rested her against her chest as she leaned in to smell her hair, tears slowly leaking as she took in her daughter.

Louis moved to the nurse's side, nerves rising as he noticed his second daughter had not begun to cry yet. The nurses were whispering to each other and abruptly stopped once Louis got close enough to see how pale the baby actually was.

 

“Is she okay? Why is she so pale?” His voice trembled.

 

The nurses were rubbing the baby’s back and legs with towels while another tapped the soles of her feet.

“She hasn’t breathed yet; we're just trying to encourage her.”

 

The lights in the room flickered, the nurses and doctor panicked slightly, ushering out commands as if anticipating the power going out. Thunder rumbled loudly, shaking the panels of glass; the room descended into darkness, causing a sharp cry from the inhabitants. Emergency systems engaged as low light filtered into the room. Another loud boom of thunder as a flash of lightning illuminated the room in a golden glow. There was a sharp gasp, and then the cries of the youngest finally rang out. The power switched back on as everyone breathed in relief.

 

The nurses finally cleaned up the youngest and placed her into Louis’s hands. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he slowly walked over to his wife and other daughter.

 

“Gods, they’re beautiful, Rose. I’m so proud of you. Thank you—thank you.”

Louis kissed the squirming girl on her cheek before placing her next to her sister on her mother's chest. He gently ran his fingers through his wife’s red hair, staring at her trembling lips.

 

“You’re right, they’re so beautiful. My girls. Hello darlings, I’m your momma.”

 

Rose traced each girl's eyebrows and cheeks, smiling as they wiggled against her chest. The doctor finished up and then stood up to remove his gloves and grab a clipboard from the counter. He started to jot notes as he asked the Evans some questions.

 

“You did wonderfully, Mrs. Evans. Both girls look healthy and are measuring out where we expect. Have you all decided on names yet?”

 

Rose smiled as she kissed the first daughter, taking in her pink skin and dark red hair.

“Yes, this one here is Lily, Lily Evans.”

 

Handing Lily over to her husband, she stared at her youngest, taking in her pale skin and dark auburn hair. Her little eyelids moving as she rested against her chest, wiggling close as if to feel more contact. Rose gently cupped her closer as she turned back to the doctor.

 

“This one is Hermione, Hermione Evans.”

Chapter 2: Runaway

Summary:

Flowers always grow in the most curious places

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, This is my first Fanfic.

March 20th, 1962 3:30 am

 

It was unsettling, the sensation of becoming someone. Of conscious thought blending with the battered soul- infiltrating her pores, ravaging her mind as memories overlapped. Spaces ripped and slashed to allow older memories in between the unconscious experiences - She was becoming Hermione.

 

Anxiety began to build as the fiery sensation ripped through her body, the agonizing tugging at her navel slowly receded as magic rippled across her pale skin. Bile tickled the back of her throat as a twirling, rocking motion jarred her as she cried out, jolting awake as a golden glow dimmed from her pores and died out in small flickers. Her eyes opened, blurry as she struggled to focus or to move her body. Magic hummed quietly, small toys and books hovered off the ground for a brief moment before floating back down- another cry to her right caught her attention. There was a baby in a crib next to her, tears rolling as she sobbed loudly. Chubby hands outstretched as she whimpered.

 

“Mi..mi, mi, mi mi.”

 

She was disoriented, thoughts racing as she tried to figure out where exactly she was. Where was Dolohov? What happened with the battle? Wasn’t she dying?

What happened to Harry? To Ron?

 

The crying muddled her mind, unable to process what was going on with the added noise. She lifted her arm in order to console the crying child but noticed a small, chubby arm in place of what she expected. At that moment a beautiful red-haired woman dressed in a feminine floral nightie opened the bedroom door and flicked on its light. Blinding Hermione momentarily before her eyes refocused, she felt warmth and love bubbling up under her skin toward this woman with sun-kissed skin and light green eyes. The woman was gently rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she quickly went to the baby next to her and picked her up. Humming lightly, she whispered between notes.

 

“Darling, it’s okay, it’s okay, mommies here. Lily Love, did you have a bad dream?”

 

Lily?

 

 

Memories trickled through her mind—brief glimpses of kisses, small moments of being held and rocked just as Lily was now- of a handsome man with a scratchy mustache tickling her face as giggles erupted from her. Another little girl with blonde hair and pale blue eyes, holding her as she pointed out shapes in a book.

 

“Oh, mia sweet, it looks like Lily woke you up too. Don’t worry, Papa’s coming.”

 

Just then the handsome man with the scratchy mustache entered the room; tears gathered in Hermione’s eyes as words seemed to flash in her mind. Papa. Mama.

He yawned as he stepped around the woman, only stopping to kiss both on the cheek before making his way to her. His smile was sweet as he slowly bent down to cradle her under her arms before resting her against his chest- tucked beneath his chin as he ran his hand through her wavy auburn curls.

 

She couldn’t hold back the sobs as she was rocked and soothed, her lips trembled as her nose stung, trying to remember a time when anyone had held her like this in so long. Multitudes of emotions bombarded her; unable to control them in her young body, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly as the feeling of contentment, of safety, blossomed. There were phantom pains that had traveled through her; her forearm burned as her body shook. Tiny pinpricks as the feeling of stone pelting her ghosted along her body.

 

“Baby girl, it’s okay-Papa’s got you. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

 

Her father held her closer, the soft compression helping to soothe the phantom pains as the rhythmic rumble of his voice helped temper the overwhelming emotions. The feeling of his fingers gently scratching her neck helped stem the flow of her tears as the soreness of her becoming rolled into a dull but persistent tenderness. Again, the feeling of safety surged forward; a little sigh escaped her lips as he began to sway.

 

“My little flowers seem to be having a rough night, shh shhh, just try to go back to sleep.”

 

After a while, he slowly lowered her back into her crib, tucking the blankets around her as the lights turned out. Her eyes struggled to stay open as she tried to work out what had happened to her. Above her, a vast collection of painted celestial forms softly accented by a soft neon glow from a lamp in the corner of the room. The phoenix constellation twinkling above her.

 

The flash of gold, Fawkes, the time turner broken.

 

One thing seemed to be clear, she was not in 1998.

 

 

September 23rd, 1966 - Hyde Park

 

The sun beat down on her pale skin, peeking through the overcast as it brushed against her cheeks. Sweat dripped down her neck as she lay in the grass and wildflowers near the back of the park. There was a slight breeze; it ghosted across her exposed skin, cooling as it seemed to mix with the magic surrounding her. It was quiet here, something she desperately needed after the long car ride. Between the radio, off-key singing, and pointy elbows digging into her ribs as they fought for room in the back of her father’s Ford Cortina. Her new family, the Evan’s situated closer to the lake ahead of her. It was a rare trip together; her father, Louis, had taken off work on Wednesday, pulling all the sisters from school for an extended weekend out of Cokesworth. He made a meager salary but recently received a raise, a true boon for a father of three young girls. Her mother helped out when she could- babysitting for the other children in the neighborhood or selling needlework to some of the factory men for their uniforms. They lived a comfortable life, much less than the Grangers before but enough to have what they needed- to travel like this every once in a while together.

 

The past seemed to haunt her even here, the deep ache of those she lost. The cackling of Bellatrix as she carved into her arm-her rancid breath still hot across her cheeks. Dolohov’s eyes piercing as he strangled her, the feel of each of his fingers digging into the skin of her neck. The sounds he made in pleasure as her air cut off. The way Ron’s eyes widened in recognition as he spotted blonde hair underneath the grisly form of Greyback from his periphery, the sway of his hair as he snapped his neck in her direction. How his hand slipped from her fingers as he seemed to toss hers aside. The guttural cry of “Lavender” as he raced away from her. Even Harry, the one she stuck beside when Ron left, as she starved in the cold after struggling with the knowledge that she might never be able to return her parents memories to them- the one that screamed at her that she wasn’t doing enough, the one that she had struggled to keep alive since she was eleven—turned his back mid-fight and left her before Ron caught up earlier in the battle. She never got to see him again. She tried to rationalize it, even now, that they thought the same as everyone else- That she was okay on her own, okay to be left, okay to be chosen second.

 

She took a deep breath as her magic coiled and burned underneath her fingertips, responding to her inner turmoil. It was at least duller now, the pain that came with these memories. Over the years she had filled a small journal with as much as she could remember, key moments, important dates and locations, who to trust, who to turn to, and who might not be able to be saved. It stayed hidden, disillusioned, under a false panel she’d conjured in her dresser. She didn’t know if this was truly just a temporal paradox created by the cracked time turner or an alternate universe altogether. Stuck waiting until Lily and her Hogwarts letters came in order to access Flourish and Blotts. She had calculated some arithmancy models on the probability between the two. Everything pointed to a temporal paradox, that she was somehow woven into the past. She’d have to wait 19 years to see whether a little Hermione Granger was born in Oxfordshire or to see if time simply collapsed on itself. The prospect was daunting.

 

Laughter broke up her thoughts- Lily’s bright laugh permeated the park, tickling her ears as the sound of her family joining in blended into the light rustling of trees and birdsong. She had hoped in the beginning that things might change, and for a while it was different, but she couldn’t change who she was at her core even though the outside had. The ‘othering” had crept in slowly, silently, in simple conversations, small choices- in words she’d heard her entire life.

 

“She’ll be fine.”

“We don’t have to worry about that one.”

 

“You understand, don’t you, honey?”

“Lily just needs us more right now.”

 

Petunia, the oldest, seemed to gravitate to Lily as they both shared a love for fashion and simply because Lily needed her help. Petunia thrived being able to direct and teach Lily, often trying with her as well before realizing it was futile. Hermione was the first to crawl, to walk, to speak, and to read and write, surpassing her peers. Even passing her older sister. She could laugh with them and be affectionate and grounding with her sisters, but nothing she tried made her feel as connected as they seemed to be to each other. They never wanted to look into what she was reading or learning; they often tried to help with clothes or friends, but it always faded and died off. Invited only once and then never again.

 

Louis and Rose had always tried to keep things equal between the girls, but as time went on, they also orbited little Lily and her guiding star, Petunia. Lily’s vivacious personality, along with Petunia’s temperamental moods, often had both parents scrambling to rein one or the other in from an ill-conceived adventure or scuffle between neighborhood kids. Hermione was well-mannered, intelligent, soft-spoken, reliable, and just friendly enough to hover in the background, always outshone by one or another.

She had tried, and would continue to try, to do better to reach out more in order to change the trajectory of her personal relationships this time around. She craved it, and if all else failed, she’d be recognized in the only way she had ever been- intellectually.

 

Sighing once again, Hermione closed her eyes tighter, trying to block out the sounds of the park as she dug her nails into the lush grass. Her magic after being reborn felt different; it was always there, flowing beneath her skin, slowly leaking out into her surroundings. It seemed to speak to her, guiding her actions with flashes of intention, of feeling. She’d been working on her non-verbal magic for 4 years, coupled with her prior understanding, she’d been able to accomplish a few spells non-verbally and conjure or transfigure some simple things. Lily has also started to show signs of magic, although it was accidental. She could feel it now, little whispers in the grass and trees. Sparks of magic in the flowers- flowing through the streams and breezes. Even in heavily concreted areas overflowing with electricity and muggles, there were tiny streams of magic weaving and slipping through the cracks. Sometimes it was even with people.

 

Little nudges on her consciousness that seemed to whisper and guide her gaze toward a stranger in her field of view. They’d always glimmer, transparent fluttering ripples that fluctuated in intensity as the person moved about. In her mind, simple expressions always accompanied these people- Wizard, witch. Safe, dangerous. Reaching her senses out, she tried to feel Lily across the field, but her heart began to race as she noticed another.

 

There, to her left, a shimmer against her core as a magical presence seemed to edge closer to her resting place. Curious, safe, familiar- flashed beneath her closed lids. She inhaled softly, trying to slow her racing heart as she heard the light crunching of grass and leaves next to her. The light above her eyes became blocked as if someone was leaning over her; she heard the faint puffs of exhales and the shuffling of robes.

 

“Hey, what are you doing here with the muggles?”

 

It sounded like a young boy, timid yet curious all the same. Slowly she cracked open her eyes- Gold meeting a familiar cool grey. She gasped.

There standing above her was none other than a young Sirius Black, cool grey eyes framed by pale, flawless skin and wavy black hair. His hair was currently filled with twigs and leaves, and his face was smudged with dirt and grime, his robes askew as if he had run off in a rush. She knew Grimmauld Place was in London, but she’d never imagine Walburga or Orion ever allowing him into a Muggle park or even near it for that matter. Her eyes searched his face as she struggled to think of the best reply. Mischief twinkled in his eyes as he smirked at her expression.

 

“You know, I understand I’m pretty handsome, but this is the first time I’ve left a girl speechless because of it.”

 

His confident expression, along with his absurd comment, caused her to laugh out loud. Happiness and contentment shone through her gaze as she tried to stop her giggles. He truly was the same at every age.

 

“Don’t be silly, I was just confused for a moment. What was it you said? What’s a muggle?”

“Wait, you don’t know what a Muggle is?”

 

Unease flashed across his face as he quickly dragged his eyes across her face and dress, shuffling back just slightly as he waited for her reply.

 

“No I’ve never heard of that before.”

“But you’re magical- I felt it! You even have robes on. ”He whisper-shouted as he unconsciously rubbed at his chest. She looked down while she pondered his words-she was wearing a long dress that could mimic the look of a robe at the right angle, she guessed.

 

“What do you mean magical? I mean, sometimes strange things happen around me, but I don’t think that’s magic. Is it?”

 

She tilted her head to the left, and she looked back into his eyes.

 

“Oh wait, you must be one of those Muggle-borns. I’ve never actually been close to one. You’re a lot less savage and pretty than dear old Burga ’seemed to say you were.”

 

His smirk seemed to fade as he noticed the frown on her face.

 

“Hey, that’s a pretty rude thing to say to someone! What do you mean by Muggle and Muggle-born? ”

He rubbed his neck, as a slight blush crossed his cheeks and ears before replying.

 

“Sorry bout’ that. It, um- It means non-magical, muggle, I mean. And muggle-born is just someone magical that was born to non-magical folks.”

“Oh I guess that makes sense- wait by the way…who are you?”

Feeling more confident after she allowed his slipup to pass without much pressure, he dramatically bowed, waving his arm about as he proclaimed-

 

“Sirius Black of the most Ancient and Noble House of Black at your service. And what might my fair lady’s name be?”

Giggling at his antics, she rose from her spot on the floor and curtsied back.

 

“Good sir, Hermione Evans of the most Illustrious and Noble House of Evans.”

“ It seems I’ve come across a most beautiful flower in this park.”

His smirk was back fully as he wiggled his eyebrows. Hermione laughed again before settling back down on the ground. She patted the grass next to her and allowed him a moment to decide what to do next. He took her invitation and settled in next to her on the grass.

 

“So Mr. Black…”

“Just call me Sirius please, Mr. Black sounds like my father.”

“So Sirius, what are you doing here in a Muggle park?”

 

“Oh I ran away from home.”

“Oh you ran away… Wait, WHAT?? WHY?”

 

Sirius’s smile only grew as he watched Hermione’s face morph into panic, her fire whiskey-colored eyes seemed to glow as she shook him back and forth.

 

“Why Sirius? Are you okay? Do you need help?”

His expression grew soft for a moment before he began to chuckle. Holding up his hands in a placating gesture before he responded.

 

“Hey, hey, I’m good, I’m okay, really. Old Burga ’got to hissing and hexing, and I just decided to explore one of the options she gave. Leaving the House.”

“Wait, what’s hexing? Are you sure, really sure you don’t need help?”

 

“It’s, it’s nothing, Hermione, really I’m good.”

 

“Well, I’ll take your word for it, but if you ever need help, you can always come to me.”

 

She held out her hand with her pinky extended. Sirius just looked at the gesture confused before she giggled and picked up the hand in his lap, forming it into the same shape before linking their fingers together and shaking it.

“This is something we do in the Illustrious and Noble house of Evans, we pinky promise. It’s one of our most sacred promises.”

 

“The most sacred, huh?”

“Most definitely”

 

She stared into his eyes, as flashes of his possible future- the twelve agonizing years in Azkaban only to escape to an early grave— Sadness filled her expression as she watched this young boy struggle to fight against the only family he’s ever known. She promised herself she’d make sure she saved him in every way possible. He stared at her then in wonder and confusion before flinching as a loud crack rang out behind them. Hermione jerked, quickly removing her pinky from his before whipping her head around. There, behind them, nestled near a bush, was the most disgruntled creature. Eyes bulbous as its long, crescent-shaped ears flapped, adorned in tattered cloth. Kreacher the house-elf shuffled forward to grab onto Sirius’s arm.

“Most wretched boy, the mistress bade me to fetch you. Come along, mistress won’t be happy yous with a mudblood.”

“Hey now! Yo-”

 

In an instant Kreacher disapparated, the loud bang ringing throughout the park.

 

The noise alerted her family as they rushed over. Her father scrambling to reach her across the field. Hermione jumped up to meet him, both slightly out of breath as Louis quickly checked her over.

“Mia, are you okay? That sounded like a gunshot.”

“No no I’m okay, it startled me too, but I didn’t see anything.”

 

Rose quickly sprinted to her, doing the same as Louis, she hugged her tightly before looking around the park. A few other families seemed unnerved as well and decided to pack up and leave.

“Come on, let’s get back to the car.” Rose said as she guided her back to their spot.

 

Once everyone was crammed back into the car, Hermione glanced out the window before closing her eyes and leaning her head against the glass. Silently praying.

 

Dear Merlin, Please let Sirius be okay.

Chapter 3: Vienna

Summary:

"The garden reconciles human art and wild nature, hard work and deep pleasure, spiritual practice and the material world. It is a magical place because it is not divided." —Thomas Moore

Notes:

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. This is my first fanfic.

TW: Referenced child abuse, torture.

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To deprive a man of his natural liberty and to deny to him the ordinary amenities of life is worse then starving the body; it is starvation of the soul, the dweller in the body. -

Mahatma Gandhi

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September 26th, 1966 - Black Manor, Tisbury-Wiltshire

 

It was nearly six in the afternoon as a waning sort of white haze trickled through high windows framed by dark green velvet curtains. Candles illuminated around the room gave off a soft, warm light, complementing the natural light that filtered in. There was a charmed metronome ticking back and forth, the only sound other than the slight clattering of metal on porcelain.

 

His blistered hands trembled as he held his back straight, his posture corrected with a sharp slash of a switch. Flinching slightly before he adjusted once more, his shoulder was numb from the hits that had come before it. He had dropped the angle of his arm too much. The tips of his toes throbbed as he struggled to maintain the rise of his feet- the instructor's gaze roving over every angle as he lightly tapped the switch against his other palm. His mother, Walburga watched on, sitting comfortably at a round table off to the side of the ballroom, sipping tea after taking a bite of her coq a vin. The savory scent of the chicken stew permeated the room, dragging across his senses- his mouth watering. The deep, aching hunger tore through him, it had been three days since his last meal. Walburga had demanded Kreacher cook the most elaborate dishes for each meal, locked in his room, he’d be able to hear each time Kreacher set down a plate outside his door, a muffled cast of intensior odorem, to ensure the scent carried across the warded door. She had gleefully hexed his door handle to shock him every time it was touched, had blinded him with an obscuro, before locking him away - unable to tell the time, to occupy his mind, unable to find his way and too scared to reach out and touch again. Eventually, even his voice was taken from him once she deemed his pleading and screaming to be “uncouth” of an heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. It was maddening.

 

She’d only allow him out for tutoring lessons held at Black Manor, dragged by his robes and nearly drowned by Kreacher in the tub before dressing him for the day- only allowing one glass of water before the grueling work began.

 

Another snap of the switch landed sharply across the backs of his legs this time, pain blossomed as he bit down on his lips to prevent himself from crying out. He couldn’t help the trembling in his legs, couldn’t help the blurring in his vision or imprecise jerks of his arms as he led his imaginary partner through the steps of the Waltz.

 

Walburga slowly set down her knife and fork, picking up her napkin to dab the corners of her pale lips, she cleared her throat to catch the attention of the instructor.

 

“C’est tout pour aujourd’hui”

 

The silent man simply bowed his head and made his way out of the ballroom, Kreacher slowly trailing behind the man with a grimace on his gnarly face.

 

Walburga slowly rose from her seat and seemed to glide across the room, circling him with a small smirk. The sound of her heels clicking against the hardwood floors steadily grew louder and louder as she closed in. Anxiety shot through him. He flinched when she reached out to touch his face, sweat collecting as his heart rate increased. This only encouraged her as she looked down to lock her gaze with his, her blackish-brown tresses hung half down, half up, pinned by a diamond hair clip that seemed to twinkle in the light, framing her narrow face as her pale lips formed a toothy smile.

 

“Do you understand?”

 

He gave a shaky nod, eyes dropping to the floor.

 

“ Toujours Pur. Always Pure, Always . Sirius.”

 

Although she whispered, each word enunciated carried a weight that seemed to fill the grand ballroom. She leaned down, gently pushing her skirt as she leveled her face with his. She tilted her head as if examining him, a dark look crossed her face as if she had judged him and decided what she had found was disgusting before speaking again. Her voice now hissed out between her lips.

 

“You are the son of Orion Black, You are the Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. You will not mix with those savages, You will not mingle in their filth, and You will never shame this house, or I will ensure you never survive it. "

 

She smiled again, a genuine smile filled with warmth, yet her eyes tracking back and forth to map his response spoke of madness. She reached up again to pat his cheeks and then slowly stood back up and called for Kreacher. The elf appeared with a crack, bowed low as his gravelly voice belted out.

 

“What can this lowly creature do for his most noble Mistress?”

“Take him back, only broth and bread today.”

“Yes Mistress.”

 

Kreacher still bowed low, shuffled to grasp his leg before apparating them back to his room. With a snap of his fingers, a small tray of bread and broth appeared on his desk.

 

“For the most dishonorable one.”

 

Kreacher cracked away, leaving him alone in silence. Now safe in his room, his tense muscles began to relax, the trembling turned into violent shaking as a small sob escaped his lips. He closed his eyes as he tilted his face toward the roof, hands lifting to run his fingers through his trembling locks. He breathed deeply, once, then twice, letting out a shaky sigh, trying to hold it in. Dropping his hands, he turned his head to the meal at his desk- slowly making his way to take a seat. It was just broth, just bread, unflavored and stale, yet the moment he took a bite, he couldn’t help the sobs he released in force. It was delicious.

 

He steadily ate the meal down slowly; the last time he had eaten too fast and vomited it all back up. Walburga had threatened to make him eat it off the floor if he ever did it again. He was thankful, truly thankful, of only one thing. Kreacher had not mentioned Hermione, only that he had found him in a mudblood's park. He rubbed his chest, a soft, aching feeling radiated from his heart. It warmed the coldness that had taken over as he thought of her.

 

He had been running for a while, confused at how different the buildings were, curious as to what weird Muggle magic had been cast to chunks of metal and lights that seemed to flash directions- How did those Muggles know what to follow? He had lucked out that no one seemed to mind him, no one seemed to want to harm him. It was so different from what he had been told- he heard the sounds of laughter and saw a lush green park ahead of him. He slowly stepped forward before he saw her.

 

Rays of golden light shined down through the branches of a sweet chestnut tree, illuminating her pale skin in an otherworldly glow, cheeks flushed as her golden-streaked auburn hair lay around her face in a halo- she was separate from the others, surrounded by the flowers and trees. A book nestled into the grass beside her as butterflies danced around her body, she moved to dig her fingers through the grass- Pale pink robes adorned her skin. He had felt it then, the brush of magic sliding along his skin, gentle caresses that seemed playful, that beckoned him forward. It was warm, her magic was so warm. It was calming, so unlike the magic he had grown up with.

 

The moment she opened her eyes and gazed up at him, it was as if his heart had failed to beat, it was a tight- breath-stealing lurch before it started again faster than before. Golden eyes, the color of the fire whiskey he’d seen his father, Orion, drink on special occasions.

He had thought to himself in that moment that he had met a Nymph. He was captivated.

 

She had matched her magic- warm and sweet. He desperately hoped she would be accepted to Hogwarts. It was the only thing that seemed to help, the knowledge that if he could survive Walburga until then, he’d be able to see her again, to feel that gentle magic once more.

 

He clasped his hands together, head bowed as tears ran down his face- He prayed.

 

Merlin, please.

 

 

December 21st, 1967- Cokesworth Park

 

 

Snow flurries fluttered in the slight wind, blanketing the ground and trees in a muted white fluff. The sky, darkened by the overcast, caused a grey, hazy film to swallow the color and life of everything around- the bare trees stood stark against the cold. Their blackness a harsh contrast against the white void. Nestled beneath the trees next to the slowly freezing water was a flash of dark red hair. Lily sat upon a small knitted blanket, pulling her coat together tighter as she rubbed her hands together. Her deep emerald eyes looked to the end of the park, waiting and hoping-her hands lifting up slightly off her lap to cup together. She concentrated as she visualized it, and slowly a white lily formed. It continuously materialized, cycling through what seemed like life and death. Bursting forth, rapidly blooming only to wilt and start again. A broad smile stretched across her face, he had told her it was magic. That she was a witch.

 

Lily finally had something none of her sisters did the thought of being special- of being the only one—filled her with satisfaction. She didn’t know when it began- this twisted feeling in her chest every time she saw her sister Hermione accomplish something before her, every time their parents would finally turn their gazes in her direction in praise, or when the other kids reached out to make her their friends. Things happened around her when these emotions came forward, a cup that was knocked off the table, flickering and blown lights, Hermione’s things that seemed to vanish- the ones she had cherished. A boy that tripped after she felt anger at being ignored. Now, now she knew it was simply her magic responding to her.

 

She had been so careful- small actions, smiles, a disparaging word whispered in the ears of other girls. Hanging on Petunia’s every word as if she spun the stars, performing for her parents, and ensuring she never looked rumpled. There was a sense inside her that whispered that Hermione shouldn’t be here, that she was invading her family. She understood that Hermione was undoubtedly her sister, but this instinctual feeling always simmered below.

She had been warned about him. So many of her school friends and the neighborhood kids voiced their opinion in hushed tones.

 

“He doesn’t come from a good family, Lil.. I heard he was stealing food.”

 

   “He’s so creepy, he doesn’t even speak.”

 

“He’s mean, just as mean as his father, they say.”

 

   “He’s always in hand-me-down clothes- unwashed too..”

 

“Have you seen his teeth? His nose? Gosh, I wish I could forget it.”

 

 

But he had told her that he would help her and teach her all he knew about the magical world, that she was so much more special than her non-magical sisters. That alone was enough to make up her mind about him. Out of the corner of her eye, a black shape came into focus, its form sharpening as he walked closer. He stood before her in a ratty coat, pants riddled with holes, and oversized leather shoes. His jet-black hair framed his equally black eyes and pale, sallow skin, his large roman nose, pink from the cold, dominated his face- it drew her eye. This boy, who seemed uncomfortable in his own lanky form, was none other than Severus Snape.

 

“I’m so glad you made it sev.”

 

 

 

March 10th, 1969- Evan’s Residence, 10 am.

 

Louis was focused as he shrugged on his jacket and grabbed his keys. He and Rose had worked out a plan that he promised he would fulfill at all costs. They had noticed, for a while if he was being truly honest with himself, that his lovely flower had slowly wilted. Hermione had seemed to cave inward as the years stretched on, his darling girl spoke less, smiled less, and awoke terrified in the night. They had hoped it was just a passing phase, a bit of growing pains, similar but not the same as what his other flowers had experienced. Yet he couldn’t help but notice the growing distance between his girls, between the neighborhood kids and Hermione. In his mind there stood his lovely flower, illuminated by light, just waiting for him beyond the door.

 

He walked out of his bedroom and into the dining room, Hermione sat nestled against the window seat, a blanket draped across her lap. She seemed engrossed in the ratty old etiquette book they had picked up at a book sale a while ago. Her eyebrows slightly pinched together as her eyes devoured the words across its pages. She always seemed to shine so brightly to him, especially when she was in her element.

 

“Hey mia love, how about you accompany your dear old papa to the store really quick?”

 

Hermione blinked, eyes unfocused for a moment as she registered what he had asked. She looked to him, smiling a bit before nodding and getting up-she walked over, gently placing her book on the kitchen counter with a graceful reverence.

It was only a few minutes into his drive before he turned onto a stretch of road with fields on both sides. The early morning sun, stretched across the rolling hills, their windows down as a cool breeze circled in the cabin. She was quiet, she was always quiet now, it seemed. The radio’s soft hum of You and Me Against the World by Helen Reddy swallowed up the silence. He took one hand off the wheel and grasped Hermione's, startling her as he wove their fingers together. Pulling over to the side of the road, he put the vehicle in park before looking her in the eyes.

 

“I’ve noticed you’ve been a little quiet lately, Mia, love. Now, now you don’t need to say anything to this old man if you don’t want to, but, but just know that no matter how life changes, no matter how you feel about those changes or how they might make it seem, your mother and I love you. We love you with our everything.

Your my little flower, mia love.

You mean the world to us, even if you can’t see it sometimes.”

 

Hermione’s lip trembled as silent tears streamed down her face, squeezing his hand as she leaned in to hug him. She could feel it, the love he seemed to radiate, it too was just as warm as his tender hug. It was quiet once more as she held on tightly, time slowly passed before she whispered.

 

“Oh, Papa.. Thank you. That’s what I needed to hear the most.”

“I’d do anything for you, love.”

 

He kissed the top of her head and then turned his head away as she noticed tears start to form in his eyes- with a gruff cough, he slowly released her as he went to put the car back in drive. Pulling around, he started back the way he came.

 

“Come on, darling, let’s go get some ice cream.”

 

In all the lives Hermione had lived, for all the magic she had experienced- it was a single man born without a single speck of it who had done the impossible and worked the most beautiful magic she had ever felt.

Chapter 4: All Along the Watch Tower

Summary:

Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows.-John Betjeman

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This is my first fanfic

TW: Implied child abuse.

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“Sometimes problems don’t require a solution to solve them; instead they require maturity to outgrow them.” ― Steve Maraboli

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November 28th, 1970- Evan’s Home- Cokesworth

 

 

Laughter filled the dining room, a few of the neighborhood kids tossing popcorn back and forth while sitting at the dining room table- soft music played in the background from the radio nestled on the kitchen counter. Scrabble pieces were tossed about the table, drinks sweating into the cloth table cover. A small tray of snacks half devoured- it wasn't much, but it was more than some of the kids had at home. Rose sat visible from the back porch, rocking leisurely while reading a book- a large pitcher of lemonade and cups sat on a small wire table adjacent to her. Hermione, napping in the remaining evening sun, stretched across a wicker bench filled with a collection of patchwork pillows. Her book was open- yet forgotten as it rested against her stomach, pages slightly creasing with every breath.

Petunia could not help but take the scene in, her sister looked so peaceful, so unfettered. There was a rolling feeling in her stomach, it had made her nauseous enough to pass on the gossip Debby eloquently supplied as an eager Lily listened on. Even the morose Snape boy sat quietly at the window seat, if you weren't paying attention, you'd think he was reading as well- but those black eyes would lazily trail from his pages to rest momentarily on Hermione before bouncing back. If the group got too silent, he'd shift in his seat, always rolling his shoulders, as he dropped a hand to wipe along his trousers. He appeared nervous to her. Since Lily had dragged him home, he seemed to be making an effort with his hygiene, but there was still a hint of greasy shine. But that was the only effort he made, he was still mean and standoffish, especially to Hermione. He only ever tolerated Lily, her touch, her direction, or her presence—everyone else was held back. Acquaintances, never friends. He had never failed to patronize Hermione in some fashion, always whenever he was within earshot of Lily, as if waiting for her cue. Lily would always act surprised and huff before smacking his shoulder. It was always followed with-

"Oh, Sev, you have to be nice."

 

"He doesn't mean anything by it , Mia you know how he gets."

 

If Hermione tried to respond, the rest of the group, sensing the tone, would jump in with comments of their own to back Lily. These moments confused her the most, she felt anger that this ugly little boy dared to talk to her sister like that, yet there was a perverse satisfaction that it wasn't her. That she was still "in." She had never been as popular with the other kids until Lily and Hermione got old enough to play as well. 

She was convinced Hermione's eyes would flash in those moments, her jaw twitching, and she took in a deep breath before leaving the group. Severus always seemed to suffer in some way after- it was always small things. His shoes fell apart, he'd trip on the way home, a lost book, a broken pen. But, strange things had always happened around Lily and Hermione.

He had done it again earlier. Hermione had been sitting in the spot he now occupied, she had gotten up to get another drink when her gaze quickly scanned the Scrabble board. She stopped and leaned in before letting the group know that one of the words was spelled wrong.

Integrity. Not Intergrity

Becca had scrunched her face, it was the word that had gotten her the lead.

Severus scoffed at that moment, causing Hermione to snap her gaze to his- she lifted her brow as if to challenge him to continue.

 

"I think we'll be fine without your input, know-it-all."

Her face paled slightly before it morphed into anger.

"Oh. You don't say, huh?" She clicked her tongue against her teeth before noticing the score sheet laid on the table. There was a small tilt of the corner of her lips before she spoke again.

"Not even in the lead with a group like this? What a dunderhead. You seem to need all the HELP that you can get." Bright golden eyes bore into black.

 

Everyone gasped before a chorus of voices demanded that she be nice. Ignoring them, Hermione joined their mother on the porch, huffing as she got comfortable on the bench and opened her book on learning latin.

Petunia looked away from Hermione's resting face to her hands. Hermione had never stopped reaching out, trying to connect in small moments. A cup of her favorite tea, after a stressful day at school, a clipping from the fashion magazine she hadn't gotten to read yet- even a few handmade scarves and gloves. She still received compliments sometimes about them. Rubbing her hands together, she thought about that rolling feeling in her stomach- the one that made her nauseous. It occurred to her that it very closely resembled guilt.

 

November 28th, 1970- Evan's Home- Cokesworth (Hermione)

 

She couldn't believe the audacity of that boy, although she knew what his home was like- knew that despite his gruff exterior and vicious tongue, he had the capacity to be a great wizard and a great man. A loyal man even when the world thought differently. Even with that knowledge, all she wanted to do at the moment was reintroduce him to her bluebell flames. She had not stopped working on her control, it took significant effort to channel her young, accidental magic into something less destructive or mischievous. She had her memories, but her body, her emotions were still on par with the average 10 year old girl. She winced as she remembered the few times it had gotten out of hand and Severus did suffer for it. She tried not to enjoy it too much when it happened.

As she huffed and settled onto the bench in the back patio, her mother, Rose, made eye contact, her expression seeming to ask, "All okay?". With a slight nod and a quick smile, she turned her gaze to the clouds.

She knew she was partly to blame for his actions now- she remembered the first moment she had met a younger Severus Snape.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

3 years ago, in late November, she had fled from the house to clear her mind and think of the next language to learn. She had now had Celtic and Russian under her belt- it would come in handy with some of the older journals and grimoires she'd need to study once she got to Hogwarts. She had never stopped trying to expand on her knowledge and skills-she would need every weapon she could get her hands on if she wanted to end this war before October 1981. She still woke up sometimes from nightmares- the ones where nothing she did could change fate, the ones where even if she could change things, she still failed.

Her pondering was interrupted by the sounds of rustling coming from a narrow alley up ahead. She slowed, her heartbeat started to quicken. With a flick of her wrist, she non-verbally silenced her steps. She moved from the middle of the street to get closer to the house next to her. She inched along until she came to the end of the building- slowly peeking her head around the corner. She let out a sharp gasp. Sad golden eyes met a startled black.

Digging through a trash bin was the unmistakable yet heavily bruised Severus Snape. Blood trailed across his swollen brow, lips busted and bruised covered in bread crumbs- his clothes barely clinging to his skinny body as if they had been ripped apart and held together. There was a long gash in his shirt - a macabre window to sallow skin stretched across prominent ribs littered with yellow, purple, and green. In one hand was a rotten piece of bread, while the other hovered still deep within the bin.

She saw as his shock turned to anger- oh no. There was one thing she knew without a doubt. Severus Snape NEVER wanted others to see him vulnerable. He dropped the bread before quickly turning to run- there was a limp in his gate.

 

Scrambling to catch up, she yelled out.

"Please wait! I can help!"

He picked up his pace.

 

"I don't need your help, just quit following me!" He bellowed as he turned mid-run to look at her face. It was the most venomous look he had ever given her. She had stopped chasing him at that moment and swore once he was a speck in the distance. She hoped this wouldn't get in the way of turning him later.

Almost a month after she had encountered him in a narrow alleyway. A young Severus Snape showed up hand in hand with Lily. And from that moment on, she once again was at the tail end of his vindictive tongue. She wondered if some things were set to always be. Fixed moments in time.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

She was pulled back to the present by the soft hum of her mother's voice. She was just as radiant as the moment she saw her. She slowly observed her—there were a few more freckles now, a few more wrinkles around her eyes, but her smile, her kindness, stayed the same. Hermione closed her eyes- she had slowly put the idea of magic into her mother and father's subconscious minds. Every time there was an instance of accidental magic, she'd jokingly comment, "It must be magic." For 6 years straight, she had consistently chosen and heavily demanded to be a witch for Halloween- it made her giggle, and it happened to help with her plans on softening her and Lily's magical reveal. She had always made sure to bring up what fantasy book she was reading at the time. Tales of Knights-of Dragons, of Witches and Wizards, of worlds just beyond their reach. Harry never knew, and those that knew his parents never mentioned how Lily's parents had taken the news. She hoped it was better than the tense and begrudging acceptance of the Grangers.

She rubbed the small coin in the pocket of her dress. She couldn't do much now without a wand, but the moment she had it, she would work on making a way her non-magical parents could use it too. An added variation to her original charm work. Opening her eyes, she leafed through her Latin book and started to read where she had left off.

 

July 31st 1971- Evans Home 5:30pm

 

Louis and Rose sat in a daze, nestled into their plaid living room couch after being pulled away from dinner. Standing across from them with his back turned was an older man with grayish-red hair and glasses, dressed in what seemed to them like a gray long-sleeved dress and trousers. He was silently looking at their wall of pictures and knickknacks. There was a woman too, with a stern expression on her face, black hair tightly bound in a bun situated under a pointy witch's hat. She, too, was in a green dress, although hers was tartan. A long stick gripped in her crossed hands. The children were quiet as they waited for their response, some shuffled and wiggled to get comfortable. Petunia pale, Lily Pensive, and Hermione blank, chewing on the corner of her lips.

"Sooo, you're saying magic is real? And Lily and Hermione are witches?"Rose hesitantly asked.

The older man turned to them, a twinkle in his eye as he adjusted his glasses before responding.

"Yes, due to the Statute of secrecy- a law implemented by our Wizengamot, uh, something similar to what you know as your parliament- we ensure that the knowledge of the wizarding world is kept secret- for safety reasons. I'm sure you understand."His voice was low, with a soft cadence as he scanned their faces. The woman next to him interjected.

"Sometimes, just like in your case, a magical child is born to a non-magical, or what we call a Muggle, family. In these instances, the headmaster here—Albus - Albus Dumbledore, or I, the headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, will personally deliver their Hogwarts acceptance letter and help introduce the family to the wizarding world. Every magical child is recorded and accepted to attend Hogwarts. Since this was a rare occasion—magical twins- especially magical Muggle born twins—I was asked to also come along to assist. "

She shuffled the sleeves of her dress and pulled out two letters. Walking around the living room table, she handed one to Lily, looking into her eyes before giving her a soft smile. She did the same for Hermione, before returning to Dumbledore's side.

"How can we know what you're saying is true? And why would we send our kids off to some school we've never heard of? Can we even tour this place?" - Louis's tone was slightly sharp as he leaned forward with his arms crossed. He shook his head slightly before continuing.

"Sorry I-I don't mean to come across as rude, but these are my eleven year old daughters you're talking about. What parent wouldn't be skeptical in this case?"

Dumbledore and McGonagall looked at each other - a silent conversation passed before McGonagall nodded her head.

"If you'd be open to it, we have permission from the ministry to show you a form of magic."

Louis looked at Rose, both skeptical and curious. Louis turned back and nodded.

As soon as he finished, the woman next to Dumbledore shrank down into a small grey tabby cat. Louis and Rose jumped up, sharp gasps from their lips, Rose clutching her necklace in a tight grip.

"Well, bloody hell !"

Rose turned sharply, shock and anger on her face as she lightly hit Louis.

"LOUIS, Language!"

"I think in this case it's warranted, darling! A woman just turned into a bloody cat in our living room!" he griped, slightly leaning away from her hits.

"I'm sorry about that. I'm sure it's happened before."Rose muttered, a slight blush on her cheeks.

The girls exchanged looks before giggling. Louis and Rose slowly sat back down as McGonagall turned back. Standing still without a hair out of place - a tiny smirk on her lips.

Dumbledore raised his hands in a placating gesture as he nodded his head.

"Most certainly, I hope that was a bit enlightening for you all? As for your other questions, you may have already noticed little odd instances as the girls grew up. Maybe lights going out, things that look like they've floated, objects not in places they just were. These are normal and what we call accidental magic. As a child's magical core grows, it responds to a child's emotions or desires. In most cases they are unable to truly control this until they get older. Hogwarts is needed to teach the girls how to control this magic so they are not a danger to themselves or others."

"Danger?" Louis asked.

"Yes, without the understanding or ability to control magic, it can lash out or be used for terrible things."

That seemed to cast a solemn mood across the room.

"Well, I'll be. I guess, Mia darling, you got your wish. Sweet girl has been saying she wants to be a witch for years!" Louis chuckled.

Dumbledore turned his gaze to Hermione, eyes twinkling as he observed her.

"Is that so?"

They stayed for a while to answer some questions and set up a time later when McGonagall would return so the Evans family could tour Diagon Alley and get supplies for the upcoming semester. Petunia disappointed as Dumbledore gently informed her there would be no way she could attend as well. Louis whispered reassurances in her ear, while Hermione linked their hands to rub soothing circles on her palms. Lily stood quietly next to Rose, eyes down cast.

As the hour grew late, Dumbledore and McGonagall said their goodbyes and started to head out. Hermione asked if she could escort them. As they crossed the threshold to the front door, she spoke.

"Professor?"

This caused Dumbledore to pause in the doorway. McGonagall had already made it to the front yard.

"What is it, my dear?"

Hermione took a deep breath before answering.

"Professor, I just wanted you to know something."

He nodded, encouraging her to continue. Curiosity peaked.

"I am a huge fan of Churchill."

Golden eyes flashed as they stared into a twinkling blue.

Notes:

Thank you for all the follows and comments <3 I appreciate you sticking with me.

Chapter 5: Dolly Dagger

Summary:

Sometimes magic happens even when you can't see it.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything and this is my first fanfic.

This ones a bit longer.

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We only know a tiny proportion about the complexity of the natural world. Wherever you look, there are still things we don’t know about and don’t understand. There are always new things to find out if you go looking for them.” – David Attenborough

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August 21st, 1971 - Evan’s Home 8 am.

 

Boisterous noise filled the Evans's home as each member rushed to get ready for McGonagall's arrival. It had taken a few weeks since their introductory visit and shocking unveiling for Mr. and Mrs. Evans to exhaust all of their concerns through owl correspondence- Something both parents balked at initially, but ultimately warmed up to quickly. Rose in particular, as 'Well they're just so cute you can't help it", "It's such a lovely way to communicate, reminds me of all those old romance novels."-was brought up in conversation numerous times to sway Louis. Eventually Louis set up an owl stand he'd built on the back patio. Lily was the most surprising out of the girls, when she confessed at breakfast the morning after that she had known she had magic- that Severus had it too. Both parents watched in awe as Lily conjured her namesake. Petunia was silent and pale as Hermione sat reverently, her head resting on her hands as she leaned in toward the sight- a soft smile on her face as they "oo'd and Awee'd". The weeks leading to their trip were filled with exploring what their "Superpowers" as Louis often joked, could do. Mcgonagall's arrival was announced by several loud knocks- Rose rushed to allow her in, she was just as excited as the girls to head out into this mysterious new world. Mcgonagall's stern expression softened as she took in the Evan's Family.

"It's so good to see you again-you took my recommendations to heart."

She said while looking over the families clothes. Mr. Evans was dressed in a long dark coat and dark trousers, a white long-sleeve button-up covered by a brown vest, and neat black leather shoes. The women of the family all dressed in long-sleeved, high-neck dresses of varying shades of green and black shoes. She had gently corrected their inquiries into her and Dumbledore's "dresses" and informed them of what wizarding robes were. This Muggle style was close enough to mimic casual wizarding attires.

 "Of course, we didn't want to seem too out of place, You know what they say - 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do .' Oh, well, maybe you don't, but hopefully that'll make this a bit smoother on you and us."- Rose chimed.

The stern witch replied.

   "Yes, I do know this phrase, actually. Now, now, before we head out- will you allow me to cast a simple cooling charm on you all? I appreciate you following my recommendations even in the hot summer heat, this will hopefully make you more comfortable, as we'll be traveling outside quite a bit today."

"That would be lovely."- Louis spoke up, he took Rose's hand and gave it a small squeeze. Everyone took a collective breath before McGonagall cast.

"Infrigido conntinuus"

Their eyes seemed to light up as a continuous light breeze washed over their bodies. A soft smile washed over McGonagall's face- she was deeply grateful this family was so receptive to magic.

"Please let me know if it gets to be too much or if everyone is okay at the end of our trip today. I will cast another charm called 'Finite,' and it will end the magic."She waited for affirming nods before adding.

"Now we have two options for travel. I have a portkey we can use to the Leaky cauldron - That is the magical entrance to Diagon Alley—or I can provide the address, and you can meet me outside the entrance- You'll need to be holding onto Lily or Hermione to be able to see it. Portkey travel is a little unpleasant, but it is faster- there might be a bit of a rough landing. It's up to you."

Louis seemed to pale at that before turning to Rose, she just raised her brows in a curious expression before seeming to decide.

"I think we'd like the address, It would be good to learn the directions there without you. I know you mentioned we might not be able to see it, but I'd like to at least know. We'll make sure one of the girls points us in the right direction once closer."

"A wise choice, it should take you about 30-45 minutes to get there. May I disapparate here? It's a form of travel like the Portkey, but without the need of an object. You might hear a loud pop." McGonagall replied. Seeing a nod from Mr. Evans, McGonagall lifted her wand and vanished in a crack.

"Wow, I can't wait to learn how to do that." Lily exclaimed with excitement.

"It does seem extremely useful."Petunia chimed in, while Hermione nodded her head in agreement, taking Petunia's hand to give it a squeeze. Petunia looked over, a small smile on her lips before she squeezed back.

"Blimey, this is going to take some getting used to. You know we're going to have to get creative with grounding them when they get older if they can just pop all over the place."Louis groaned out.

"Oh, shush, you're giving them ideas, plus this is most entertainment I've seen in a while. Come on, girls, let's get in the car."Rose waved her hands, ushering the girls out the front door and into the driveway.

 

True to her word, it took them 35 minutes to reach the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Louis parked, looking around, unimpressed with the surroundings. Mcgonagall stood proudly outside of what seemed like a closed-down bookshop, something compelled him to glance over it and take in the other storefronts along the streets. He noticed there were a few people in the same style of robes heading in the opposite direction. It was only for a moment before they vanished into the hustle of the normal crowds.

Hermione walked up between Louis and Rose, she whispered -

"Are you ready?"

She slid her hands into theirs before turning to look across the street. Her parents gasped as a run-down old shop seemed to transform before their very eyes. Warn flaking black lacquer cracked with hints of white beneath it, a large sign above a sturdy wooden door decorated with a black cauldron and witch, The Leaky Cauldron written across in gold embossed lettering.

Her smile was radiant as she dragged them across the street. Lily and Petunia trailing close behind. She was so glad to be back.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

It was more beautiful than she remembered it, the colors more vibrant, the sounds more crisp- The feeling of it pressed upon her. Her magic expanded, trickling through her skin and whimsically traveling out in order to flood the alleyway. It was a heady, almost drugging sensation to feel the amount of magic that had gathered together. Eyes glazing for a moment as the conflicting information rushed into her head. Safe, safe, caution, dark, friend, foe, familiar…The rough cobblestone beneath her feet grounded her, the sounds of laughter lifted her anxiety, of hushed whispers and ardent haggling from shop vendors and families alike soothed her ache- a soft hum of musical performers littered about the street drowned out the pulsing in her ears. Quaint street vendors proudly displaying their wares as hundreds of witches and wizards traveled along the streets caught her family's eyes- Soft cries from the owls flying overhead while the warm smell from the Leaky's sumptuous fare tantalized their senses.

It was brighter now and so much more warm- Voldemort had yet to pervert the wizarding world with his tyrannical depravity. But she could still see it in the darker alleys they passed, saw it in the eyes of some of the wizards in the Apothecary, and heard some hushed whispers between witches about groups that had begun to meet outside of Madam Maulkin's. Even when they entered the Menagerie to purchase their own owl- she noticed the dark-robed figure's displeasure. He had been arguing with the witch who ran the shop about acquiring more Runespoor-  a frightening three-headed serpent, nearly banned once the threat of Voldemort was at its height due to its venomous heads and eggs that were used often for potions involving stimulating mental processes. They had purchased standard trunks and other equipment for school. Although the Evans did okay financially, they ran a tight budget. McGonagall had assured them when they were outside Gringotts- the wizarding bank—that there was a fund set aside for Muggle-born students. It covered tuition and standard supplies. Anything additional, like upgraded robes, or silver instead of pewter for a cauldron, or even more advanced trunks, brooms, or books, would have to be covered by their own funds.

It was nearing the afternoon before they were able to make it to Ollivander's Wand Shop. Hermione paused, taking in the shop's appearance- it was well cared for, the outside barely showing the same wear as in her original time. Flashes of its appearance during the war popped into her mind. The smoking black soot across its banner- a stray hex still active, ruining its crest. Thousands of shards of broken glass twinkled across the ground as the light from the street lanterns shined down. The rippling parchment with a bold red "CLOSED" pinned to the shop door barely hanging on- as the door appeared to crumble into itself. Half-destroyed papers and wand boxes had littered the street in front. Her resolve to change the future strengthened- She never wanted to see that sight again.

Before they could get closer, McGonagall stopped the family, her expression unreadable as she looked at the sky above the shop. In the distance a small red blur grew larger in size as it neared the group.

"My word, what is he doing?"Mcgonagall exclaimed. Hermione's head shot up- Her eyes widened as the blurry form of Fawkes became clear. He glided down to land on top of Ollivander's Shop, trilling as golden eyes met each other.

  "Oh, it's beautiful." Lily muttered in awe. Rose was gently shaking Louis's shoulder as she pointed to the majestic bird.

"What is it, though?" Petunia questioned as she tilted her head, quickly brushing her bangs out of her eyes to get a better look. Mcgonagall's stern voice, reminiscent of her tone in the classroom, answered almost as if on autopilot.

 "That- is Fawkes, Dumbledore's familiar. He is a phoenix, a very sacred magical creature, highly independent, fearlessly loyal. They are what some have hypothesized as immortal, they have many abilities unique to them. He usually does not come this far into town unless Dumbledore is with him." McGonagall finished- head turning to scan the alley looking for a familiar face.

Hermione was entranced, her eyes unable to turn away from Fawkes's as they wordlessly communicated. Images once again appeared in her mind- The word Horcrux, her death, the cracked time-turner, the red and gold flames, the golden hue of her early magic, and lastly the dark symbol of the Deathly Hallows scribbled into the page of The Tale of the Beetle Bard.

She could hear her family scream and sense McGonagall''s magic grow in panic as Fawkes lifted off the roof and burst into a brilliant flame.

In that moment she knew, this Fawkes was that Fawkes- He had somehow known she had needed help and intervened.

Mcgonagall opened the door, ushering the startled family in- The heavy smell of wood and polish invaded her senses, she scanned the shelves, taking in the mountains of boxes. She wondered if she'd receive her original wand or something like it. She briefly panicked as her thoughts spiraled- what if her original wand DID pick her this time around? Would that be a sign that a "Hermione Granger" would never be born? What if Harry's wand picked her? She had been familiar with it,and was able to use it before. Fawkes had been outside, what if that was a sign? If so, a sign of what? Would the prophecy change- or was this an alternate timeline altogether where her future knowledge could be wrong?

She was pushed out of her internal crisis when she heard McGonagall greet Ollivander.

"Mr. Ollivander, I have some new witches that are in need of your help."

A surprisingly spry Ollivander emerged from the back of his shop, in his hands a crude, uncompleted wand. He set it and his tools down on the counter before rubbing his ear.

"Hmm, yes, I remember; it was a lovely fir wood, unadorned- Dragon Heartstring core, 9 1/2 inches, and stiff. Extremely suited to Transfiguration. Mrs. McGonagall, who is it that you have brought this time?"

"Before I introduce this lovely family, I must ask. Has Dumbledore reached out to you today?"

"Why no, the last we spoke was earlier in the year, February if I recall correctly."

"I see." A contemplative look crossed her face before she cleared her throat and introduced the Evans.

"I'd like you to meet Mr. Louis and Mrs. Rose Evans, their daughters Petunia Evans, Lily Evans, and Hermione Evans of Cokesworth."

Hermione could feel the slight brush of his magic as he studied them- a smile gracing his face as he felt her push back.

"Let me guess, Miss Lily and Miss Hermione are the ones needing wands today? And of course Miss Petunia, no less lovely, won't be needing my services."

The girls chuckled and nodded; Petunia had a slight blush on the tips of her ears. Mr. Ollivander clapped before coming around the counter, motioning for Lily to step forward. He explained the process, as he used a floating tape measure to take measurements of her arm and hands. After a few "hmm's" and "yes, yes, that could work," the eccentric man disappeared behind the counter. It had taken a few resounding "no's," an "absolutely not," a busted side stool, and several profuse apologies from Lily- Mr. and Mrs. Evans for taking out a side shelf holding a few hundred boxes before a brilliant white spark shot out of the tip of her wand. The family and McGonagall congratulated her while Ollivander explained her wand.

"Yes, this is a brilliant wand for a charming witch with great potential- The wood is Willow, great for those with room to grow, 10 1/4 inches with a unicorn hair core- very consistent and swishy- which is great for charm work. I believe this wand will serve you well."

"Thank you." Lily beamed as she turned to stand back with her parents, her eyes staring in wonderment at the wand within her hands.

Ollivander waved his hands, encouraging Hermione to step forward. He once again explained the process to her. Just as he finished, there was a bang from the back of the shop. Everyone stopped to look at Ollivander, his expression confused as he asked Hermione to wait a moment- He rushed to quickly check the back of the shop, only stopping momentarily behind the counter to signal to McGonagall before venturing forward. Sweat began to collect on her brow as she knew what it was. There was a feeling blossoming in her chest as the magic in the shop pulsated- it was joy and elation. A simple phrase of "I've found you" bounced around her subconscious. It grew as the minutes ticked by; she shuffled nervously as Ollivander reappeared. In his hands was not a box made of the normal brown wood or even the velvet of the more luxury collections, but of a brilliant white ivory. He brought it close to her, looking between the box and her- his eyes twinkled.

"Before I hand this to you, Miss Hermione, I must confess. I did not make this wand, my ancestor Geriant Ollivander did. It was during a time when the wizarding world was more tumultuous than this. I fear we will both learn about this wand together- as the box will only open for the wand's chosen owner." His hands were trembling as he handed over the ivory box.

Hermione could feel it brushing against her magic; it seemed to sigh in relief as she walked around Ollivander to set the box down on his counter. Next to the lock she noticed the rune Jera engraved into the side- she scoured her memory for its meaning- cycles, completion, changes, harvest- reaping rewards. She took a deep breath before touching the lock, it took just a small brush before it clicked open. Her eyes widened as she gazed upon the most beautiful wand she had ever seen draped between red silk. She could feel Ollivander close as he peered over her shoulder. He nudged her as if to say,"go on pick it up".

As soon as she picked up the wand, a brilliant golden and red glow illuminated from the tip as a cool breeze blew through the shop. It seamlessly connected to her core, it felt more like a piece of her soul than an arm or a limb.

"How gorgeous… How peculiar... I haven't had the honor of making a wand in this wood yet. It is an Aspen wood, exceptional for charm work, usually a sign of those who become exceptional duelers- I believe one of the Hogwarts teachers also has a wand in this wood- Ah yes, Fillus Flitwick. Another gorgeous wand, although made by my father. Aspen wands are infamous with revolutionaries or those capable of great martial Magic. The Silver Spears were famously known for only allowing those with Aspen wands to join. "His eyes were intense as he studied the wand in her hands, his measuring tape coming up to check its length.

"Ah, 10 3/4 length, exceptional for precise and complicated magic, Dragonheart string as well, this wand will work whatever magic you desire."

He held out his hands, asking to hold it. She handed it over- he took it and then tried to bend it while holding it at eye level. He "hmmd" before handing it back.

"Unbending- This can be a difficult wand to master, but if you succeed, it will be resilient and unwavering, usually paired with those of similar temperament- Witches or Wizards with a strong sense of determination. This is a loyal wand. It has chosen you and will work for no other, even should you perish."

She knew, she knew what is was but she asked him what the markings on its raised handle meant.

"That, my dear, is a rune, in particular, these runes on its handle are Hagalaz- Mcgonagall please correct me if I'm wrong—but it represents Hail which symbolizes Nature, Wraith, of being tested, and overcoming obstacles. I am very interested to know how your path turns out with a wand like this."

He appraised her for a moment before taking a step back and addressing the speechless family.

"Thank you for allowing me the honor to provide such exceptional wands to these young witches today. I shall remember it fondly." With a slight nod, he headed back behind the counter before returning to the back of the shop.

The Evans were silent after, each lost in their own thoughts as McGonagall guided them back through the alley to their last stop- Flourish and Blott's. Hermione rubbed the handle of her wand, trying to understand the implication of a wand such as this. She knew she would be mostly alone in this fight- of course there was the Order, Dumbledore would hopefully decide not to wear cursed jewelry this time around, the Aurors were fully staffed since Tom's curse hadn't had the same amount of time to affect grades of graduates like in her time, and most members and wizards of renown were still in their prime. She had never been as good at martial magic as Harry, but now she knew with a wand like this supporting her, she'd have to make a significant effort. More than she had already planned.

The family dispersed into Flourish and Blott's each pulled to explore the different sections, while McGonagall explained how the books and supplies would be sent to their home. Hermione had brought a significant sum she had raised from chores and odd jobs around the neighborhood; she had already told her parents she planned to buy some books outside of the curriculum, and they supported her by exchanging more funds to match her earlier at Gringotts. Her eyes brightened as she took in all the books, taking a big breath to pull in the smell of parchment and leather- it was one of the smells she loved the most. She headed quickly to the back corner of the store, where she knew the occlumency books were located.

 

August 21st, 1971 Diagon Alley- Black Family

 

Sirius could barely control his eyes as he forced himself not to roll them as his mother disparaged those who she saw as peasant wizarding families. His stoic father, eyes blank just nodded as he held her arm and guided them along the shops. Walburga had commanded Kreacher to shop for all the school supplies for the upcoming semester. Yet they were in Diagon Alley today shopping because of something his mother called Noblesse Oblige- A sacred duty to uphold their respectability in the eyes of other sacred 28 families as a Most Ancient and Noble House. Which meant occasionally dressing up and walking around wizarding locations while financially supporting "respectable" wizarding establishments. His younger brother Regulus, the one that could do no wrong in his mothers eyes, tightly clung to the sides of her robes- her manicured nails ran through his hair, the bright red of her nail polish- a flash of color in the waves of his black curls. He was eight now, and he worried about what would happen to him once he was off at Hogwarts. He was a timid, stubborn little thing and seemed to be leaning more and more into the hateful brainwashing his mother whispered in his ears. Kreacher adored him, waited with bated breath to accomplish any of his desires. He hoped, with Kreacher as devoted, that he would overlook Walburga's orders and help Reggie if he needed it. He wouldn't be there to take the fall much longer. His shoulder still carried the bruises of his latest punishment. His eye caught a another boy rushing across the street to Quality Quidditch Supplies, he stopped to ask his parents if he could go.

"Alright, we're going to head to get some more robes just meet us at Flourish and Blott's once you're done. And Sirius?"

"Yes, Father?"

"You understand you're representing us today. Do not mingle with the undesirables." his low timbre belted out. Sirius contemplated whether or not to give a sarcastic response before deciding to just bite his tongue. He nodded before heading across the street, stopping only to ensure the family continued on without a care.

Once inside, his eyes lit up, the smell of leather and broom polish filled his chest, he walked around the store before stopping in front of the newest broom display. He barely noticed the wild haired boy next to him until he spoke.

"Oh, Merlin, this thing is a beaut'. It's the newest model of the nimbus- it's supposed to turn on a dime."

Sirius couldn't help his excitement as he eagerly replied.

"I heard it's even got self-stabilizing charms worked into the wood and a modified sticking charm on the spokes for a better ride."

Light-brown eyes circled by black frames snapped to his cool grey, a luminous smile overtook the boy's face as he held out a hand for Sirius to shake.

"Hey, man, you certainly know your stuff. My name's James, James Potter."

Sirius unable to help the smile that reached his face- he shook his hand enthusiastically.

"Sirius, Sirius Black."

James made a quick face before shrugging and replying.

"A cousin then. Ma says we aren't to welcome anymore on that side, but you seem like an okay gent."

It was Sirius this time that made a face, a slight pink reaching his ears as he rubbed his neck.

"Yeah, sorry about that, Ol' Burga and Orion aren't exactly my cup of tea either. Are you heading to Hogwarts this year?"

James studied him for a moment, a decision made in almost an instant as he leaned in to tap him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, I'll save you a spot on the train."

"So-"Before he could finish his next question, an older woman and man stepped up behind James.

"James Darling, let's go, we have an appointment at Gringotts." The woman cooed in a soft and steady voice.

"Ah... Who is this friend you've made, son?"The man asked.

"Oh, um, family, actually. This is Sirius Black, son of Orion and Walburga."

Sirius stood still as they lazily looked him over. The woman slowly reached out her hand for him to take. An expression on her face as if testing him. He smiled before lightly grabbing her hand, bowing his head, and placing a kiss just above the top of her hand.

"It is always my pleasure to meet such a beautiful woman." That got a chuckle out of both parents as James just looked on horrified.

"HEY! That's my mom!"

His mother shushed him before replying.

"My name is Euphemia Potter, and this is my husband, Fleamont Potter. Definitely a Black, those features are unmistakable. You're such a handsome charmer already- so unlike the rest of your family. It was a pleasure to meet you, Sirius, if you are ever in need of anything, please don't hesitate to reach out."

"Bye, Sirius, see you on the train, you Tosser!"

"JAMES-"

He let out a deep barking laugh as he nodded and waved to James as they guided him by ear out of the store. He took his time, looking over the Puddlemere and Falmouth Falcons jerseys- taking in the new self returning snitches before trying on a few beater's gloves. He was lost in his thoughts; he had been told the Potters were nasty Blood-traitors, no good undesirables that would sooner hex you before uttering an intelligent word. Yet again, his world, his experiences, didn't match up with what he had been raised to believe. He stopped at the counter to pay for the latest Quidditch international issue before heading out to Flourish and Blott's.

As he neared the front of the store, a warm sensation settled over his chest- his eyes widened as he recognized the feeling. He forgot about propriety as he quickly rushed the rest of the way, barely being able to let out an apology to the wizard he bumped. He grasped the door and swung it open. Heart racing in his chest as he scanned the front part of the store- eyes momentarily stopped on a head of dark red hair. Something familiar stirred, but he quickly dismissed it- it wasn't the right shade. It 'didn't feel as warm as her. Some of the store occupants gave him odd looks, but he ignored them, letting his magic guide him- he quickly rushed to the back of the store.

When he saw her, he nearly wept. Sitting along the floor, back resting against the shelves, books piled high, was the nymph he thought he had dreamed up. Even more beautiful than the last time he saw her. It was as if she could feel him to, she slowly shook her head as her eyebrows came together in confusion before her golden eyes turned in his direction. He watched as a look of surprise registered on her face before the most beautiful smile took over. Scrambling to get up, she tossed her book on the floor before rushing to envelop him in a tight hug, her face mashed into his chest as he leaned down to rest his cheek in her curls. The sweet scent of apple blossoms invaded his nose- Merlin she even smelled great.

"Are you real?" he groaned out.

She let out a breathy laugh. Pulling back to look him in the face without letting go.

"Oh, no, have you hit your head? Of course I'm real! It's so good to see you again, Sirius!" She gave him a devilish smirk that nearly stopped his heart.

"Gosh, I didn't think we'd meet again, but I'm so glad,"she chattered on.

"Me too, princess-Are you going to Hogwarts?"That question was burning on his tongue.

He couldn't help but stare, just lazily taking her in as he noticed small changes. Her hair had grown longer, the tips of her curls brushing the tops of his hands around her waist. The extra freckle she seemed to have gained under her pink lips. Her eyes were still expressive, but framed with lusher lashes. Her warm magic was stronger but still the most lovely thing he'd ever felt.

"Princess? Yes, I'm actually here today with my family and one of the Hogwarts professors. They're giving us a tour and helping us pick up supplies."

 

He let out a sigh of relief before pulling her back into a tight hug. She squeaked at the pressure, so he loosened it a bit before pulling back to reply.

 

"I didn't think we'd meet again, I half convinced myself that I made you up. I've been waiting a long time to see you again, princess."

She made a face at the nickname, scrunching up her nose and brows. It caused him to laugh, pulling back enough to step out of her arms and put some space between them he brazenly flourished his arms as he dipped into a familiar bow.

 

"This good sir once again greets Miss Hermione Evans of the Most illustrious and Noble House of Evans." With a flick of his hand, he conjured a pink camellia and offered the flower to her.

Hermione's eyes sparkled as she gently plucked the flower from his hand, staring at it reverently as one hand traced the petals. Dropping her hand, she pinched the side of her dress before curtsying to him.

"I, too, once again, greet the valiant Sirius Black, of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black." she giggled before starting to speak"

So-"

A horrible screeching rang through the store, Sirius's face paled- He knew that note.

"SIRIUS ORION BACK -YOU BETTER COME HERE."

"Oh no, I'm so sorry I have to go. I'll see you on the train, eh?"

Hemione nodded.

"Hurry, go, before she gets any worse. I'll be right behind you."

He scoffed, "I don't think she can get any worse, rotten to the core, that one. Shoot, see you!"

He took off in the direction of the continued screeching at the front of the store. He mentally cursed Walburga for ruining his moment, he had wanted to bask in her light a little longer. As he rounded the corner, he came face-to-face with his family, standoffish and barricading the front of the store. The shop owner tried to placate his mother as he assured her they were still a "respectable" business. There was another group huddled together at the front, they looked like muggles. It made his heart drop as he realized- this might be Hermione's family.

He made his way over to Walburga, she just snapped her eyes at him, quickly thrusting her hand out to grip him by the arm and pull him closer. In the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione confirm his fear and rejoin her family. His heart squeezed as he realized his wretched mother was about to open her mouth again.

"You can't convince me, this place has gone to the dogs, allowing filth like Mudbloods and Blood Traitors in. I bet you even let them paw their way through the front door with a smile on your face."

"Now see here-"

"Mrs. Black, that is uncalled for-"

"How could she call herself respectable using that word here..."

There were more gasps and shock as other occupants looked on in horror. Walburga ignored them, Orion silent and blank as ever, Reggie trembled as he tracked all the scowling faces. With a harsh jerk, she dragged him and the rest of their family out the door.

"We will NOT be returning."

Sirius stomach clenched as a cold, clammy feeling ran up his spine- He nearly vomited when he looked back and saw the sadness on Hermione's face and her sister lean in to ask the older witch beside her.

"What's a Mudblood?"

He swore under his breath and prayed she wouldn't hate him for it.

 

August 30th, 1971- Evan's House 9:30am

 

Rose had noticed that out of all the girls, Hermione had been the most elusive lately. After the disastrous ending to their Diagon Alley trip, it was horrifying to find out that her girls might be looked down upon or worse-hurt, simply because she and her husband did not have magic. Hermione had been leaving the house every day, she claimed it was to clear her head, but she'd be gone for hours, always returning before nightfall with a haunted and harrowed look. She noticed that she had begun to chew more vigorously at the corners of her lips, twitch her legs as she sat again in the kitchen window seat looking out in silence. Loud sighs could be heard nearly across the house some evenings. She's privately pulled Petunia and Lily aside, covertly questioning if they knew what might be bothering their sister. No one knew, yet they were just as curious. It was all very un-Hermione behavior.

Rose knew today was the day, Petunia had left for a friend's house, planning on spending the majority of the day. Lily was off with Louis visiting his cousin, who had phoned saying he needed some help with his car. It was a rare day off for him, he had decided to take the days leading up to the girls leaving so he could spend more time with them.

"Mia Love! Miaaa!" She called.

There was some shuffling, she heard a door open and close. The tiny patter of feet down the hallway and a muffled sigh as her beautiful girl appeared in the kitchen. She still had some dark circles under her eyes. Rubbing her face before yawning, she replied.

"Yes mama?"

"I was thinking, since it's just you and me today, how about we have a bit of a girls' day?"

Startled Hermione now fully awake, nodded her head. She smiled as she reached out to pull her into a hug.

Music hummed in the background as they danced around the kitchen, laughing together as they baked. Earlier they'd painted their nails, done their hair, and donned the most elegant gowns they had. Hermione in a cute pair of white kitten heels and a lovely blue ball gown with a bow tied around the middle, sang the lyrics to the song Hey Jude. She wiggled and hummed as she bumped her hip with Rose's before putting on a strawberry covered cooking apron. Rose bumped her back, lovely red hair pulled up into an elegant chignon, a few strands framing her face as she worked on piping frosting onto a cake in front of her - wearing what she called her "little black number" and black pumps. It was nearly dinner time, they'd relaxed after their early pampering with a calming "Tea and Read" session on the back porch. Covered in fluffy robes and slippers, they had gushed over the romantic lead in the book they were reading before getting dressed. Rose noticed then that the dark circles were almost nonexistent. She had convinced her that tonight was the night for copious amounts of desserts and got to it.

Now as they were finishing up, she led Hermione to the hall bathroom, helping her clean up and fix the small amount of makeup she had applied. While fixing a white bow into her curls, she spoke.

"I love you, my brilliant, beautiful girl. You've grown up so exceptionally, and I feel like I don't get to tell you enough. I know you'll be leaving in a few days, to a boarding school where there might be people who look down on you-but just know you are my steadily brilliant star, and I hope you'll remember that I'll be here cheering you on- simply amazed at how you shine."

She turned Hermione's face and wiped the small tears at the corners of her eyes.

"Now, now, no more of that. I just fixed your makeup. Let's go wait to surprise your father with our beauty."

She smiled and pulled Hermione back out of the bathroom.

 

August 31st, 1971- Evan's Home 7am, the Day before Hogwarts Semester Starts

 

Rose beamed as she sat on the back porch, nursing her coffee as she waited on the morning owl- her plan had worked out exceptionally. Hermione was glowing by the time everyone got home, the heaping praise over how delicious dinner was seemed to bring out her laughter and mischievousness as she had stood up and bowed- they laughed and clapped while complimenting the "Chef's" performance. She felt so relieved in that moment.

She was startled, nearly dropping her cup when the back door slammed open. There, staring intently at the owl landing, was Hermione- hair wild, drool track still stained on her chin, half rumpled in her pajamas as she rushed forward. She quickly rewarded the owl before taking the paper and ripping it open, her eyes quickly scanning the first page.

"Mia, love, is everything okay?"

She just "mhmm'd" in response before gripping the paper tightly. A soft but powerful "YES" came from her lips as a look of pure satisfaction crossed her face. Rose had never seen a smile that bright.

"Wait, what is it? Let me see."

"Oh, here you go." She tried to rub out the crinkles before handing it over to her and returning back inside just as quickly as she came.

Flabbergasted Rose scanned the paper to see what might have caught her eye. In the middle of the inner page was an exposé of sorts.

 

BLOOD PURITY OR TAINTED LINES? - THE DARK LORD EXPOSED

MOST POWERFUL DARK LORD OF THE CENTURY, A HALF-BLOOD

Article by: Herald Sinclair

Daily Prophet Lead investigator

Are you seated?

I write to you all still in disbelief. I, too, wanted to scoff and play off this little piece of information- honestly a bit worried about what trouble might come my way—but I gathered my Gryffindor spirit and braved into the unknown- or the most documented unknown I've ever experienced.

Imagine to my surprise- on a bright Sunday morning, receiving an unmarked envelope from an unregistered owl- I did investigate, but there was no magical signature. The owl, one of many used in a pay-for-post service that doesn't record senders and was bought with gallons without receipt- nearly landed in my full English. Inside of it was a bundle of documents with irrefutable proof (I triple checked) that the Dark Lord rising on the whispers of Wizards and Witches alike with the moniker "VOLDEMORT" is formerly known as Tom Marvolo Riddle.

His moniker is even from the use of a Muggle anagram. His name rearranged into

"I am Lord Voldemort"

Tom Riddle attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from 1938-1945, a seemingly upstanding individual- won accolades for his capture of the culprit who killed Mrytle Warren in 1943.( See notation below a one -Rubeus Hagrid), obtained the prefect position in 1942 and even ended his educational experience as Head boy. Even achieving and breaking Albus Dumbledore's N.E.W.T.S record with 12 perfect outstandings.

Imagine to my surprise that any mention of one "Tom Riddle or Tom Marvolo Riddle" disappears into obscurity after a short career as a shop boy at Borgin and Burks. (See attached hire forms on page 5.)

We see the emergence of "VOLDEMORT" the summer of 1969. A dark robed man, handsome and charismatic- numerous witches claim, as he is terrifying—stands alongside some of the most affluent Sacred 28 families. This man is later seen at an Auror raid in a Muggle town after it was set on fire, leading the infamous masked group called Death Eaters. (See attached photo from crime scene recorders.) And then again in multiple instances where Muggles and Muggle-born alike were harmed. (see attached internal D.o.M notes.)

Again, I was shocked and confused. How would staunch blood purists follow an unknown Half-Blood? My only guess- is that they simply didn't know.

Tom Marvolo Riddle is a Jr.

He is the son of the lost Merope Riddle nee. Gaunt and a Tom Riddle Sr., we all know of the fall of the Gaunts. A once prestigious family fallen low after marrying inward into the closest purely magic line to be no more powerful than near squibs.

They married in the winter of 1924- divorced by the end of 1926. (See: Muggle County marriage records attached below.)

Merope unfortunately did not survive long after the divorce- the only known record was of a Muggle police report( their version of Aurors- see attached documents) showing that Merope showed up in the street near a Muggle orphanage, in labor and on her deathbed. She was able to give birth to a Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. (see: orphanage admittance records and county death documents, page 5)

Several years later he is admitted to Hogwarts and starts his educational journey. Yet I call into question to some of the dark encounters tied to this supposed Dark Lord. In the summer of 1943, his uncle Morfin Gaunt is taken in and arrested for the killing of 3 muggles- confessing to the use of an Unforgivable. Who were these muggles? None other than the paternal grandparents and father of Tom Riddle. Morfin Gaunt makes no mention of Merope or even his young nephew in the trial transcripts (see attached- Page 6) so this reporter calls into question the veracity of his testimony.

His message? Blood purity and the removal of those that would "water down" ancient magical bloodlines. Those that introduce Muggle ways that overshadow traditional wizarding practices. Claims that Muggle-borns and those who support them, known as Blood-traitors, are tainting Magic- are helping them steal magic.

I and my anonymous source pose another message.

Those we claim are the strongest Wizards of our century- Both Light and Dark are Half-Bloods.

With the rising rates of squib births and natural decline of fertility, one can't help but turn our gaze on those families who have accepted "new blood," so to speak.

With higher than average birth rates of magical offspring and the reemergence of some known magical line traits that seemed to be lost- it appears that those who follow the dogma of Blood Purity are actually tainted lines.

If one single Muggle married to a Witch no better than a squib can produce a magical child with power unseen in decades-

I say good riddance to the notion of Blood Purity.

I have attached all the documents I received so you may all view them and think about what this information truly means.

My Source had only one request- To leave you all with this Message.

"Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties"

Chapter 6: The Long and Winding Road

Summary:

Sometimes we must adapt, improvise and overcome.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

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“No man was ever so completely skilled in the conduct of life, as not to receive new information from age and experience.” — Jonathan Swift

---

 

August 31st, 1971 - Grimmauld Place- 7:25am, The Day before Hogwarts Semester Starts

 

Sirius jolted awake as loud screeching filled the house, his heart beating out of his chest in response- He groaned loudly as he noticed the time on the small clock on his desk. He laid back down and pulled his blanket over his face- hands shaking as he hoped to drown out the horrific noise. He took a moment to calm down, his body was primed as it trembled. Those screams usually meant pain, or hunger. Always something horrific- in through his nose and out his mouth those deep breaths turned into a long sigh. “What could that old bat possibly be mad about now?” he wondered. When the screeching turned into loud crashes and the rare booming voice of his father- Sirius sat straight up, eyes wide as he scrambled out of bed, throwing on a shirt before rushing to his bedroom door. Hoping to not draw any attention, he slowly opened the door knob- the noise intensified.

The sound of plates breaking furniture crashing filled the house, Orion yelling-

“Calm yourself, WITCH, or I will do it for YOU.”

“HOWW DARE YOU-” Walburga screeched in response.

“DID YOU KNOW??- TELL ME THE TRUTH NOW OR I SWEAR, ORION..”

“DAMMIT, I TOLD YO-”More crashing commenced, Sirius stepped further out of his bedroom door, hoping to hear what they were fighting about. He nearly screamed, only stopping himself by slapping his hands over his mouth as Regulus seemed to materialize at his side. He looked shaken, pupils nearly pinpricks as he tightly hugged his blanket.

 

“Bloody hell, Reggie, say something- don’t just sneak up on me.”

“Language Sirius!- Do you know what they’re going on about?” Regulus whisper yelled, flinching with every new crash.

 

“Nah mate, I’m trying to figure it out as well.”

 

They both jumped as they heard Walburga’s guttural scream-

“CRUCIO! Don’t you ever think you can-”

There were sounds of his father screaming—unholy- unholy sounding cries. Both boys's faces paled, bodies shifting closer to each other, unconsciously seeking each other's comfort. They had all received punishments from Walburga for some reason or another, but they had never seen or heard of her turning her wand on their father.

 

  “She wouldn’t kill him, right? Siri?”

“I-I couldn’t say one way or another, Reggie. I don’t know what’s going on down there.”

Orion’s screaming intensified.

  “Hey, do- do you think Kreacher might know what’s going on?”- Regulus questioned as he shrunk back more to hold onto Sirius’s pant leg.

 

“I- I don’t know Reggie, you’ll have to ask him to come. You know that little blighter won't answer truthfully if it’s me.”

  “It’s because you’re mean to him, like calling him names.” Regulus looked on in anger.

“No Reggie you don’t understand- wait- just never mind, call him.” Sirius closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew Regulus adored Kreacher and vice versa, as much as he hated the beast, he didn’t want to ruin Regulus’s faith in him.

“Kreacher” all it took was a soft whisper from Regulus.

  Kreacher popped directly in front of Regulus- There was the softest look Sirius had ever seen on the little cretin’s face as he bowed low and grunted out.

“What can Kreacher do for his most Noble Master Regulus.”

 

“Kreacher, if you know why Mother and Father are fighting, can you tell us?”

  “Kreacher brings it.”

 

With a snap of his fingers, the morning edition of the Prophet appeared in his hand. Offering it up to Regulus with both hands, head still bowed as he waited for the next command.

“Thank you, Kreacher. I wonder what news drove them to this?”

Sirius quickly took the paper from Regulus- this caused Kreacher to look up and snarl at him before taking a step back.

“Oh shush- Let’s see here, what’s gotten Ol’Burga in a tizzy today?” Regulus huddled close - as both boys read the front-page article, the screaming from downstairs stopped; there were shuffling noises- sounds of a physical fight—before a loud yell.

 

“STUPEFY” was bellowed out by his father’s gravely voice, then there was a loud thump and clattering of chairs- finally there was silence.

Sirius’s eyes scanned the article at breakneck speed, eyes widening as he took in every word, his grip on the paper tightening as his hands began to shake.

“oh” it was soft, as if it escaped out of him without thought.

“This-this changes everything, doesn’t it, Siri?”

 

Sirius turned to look Regulus in the eyes, hope radiating in his chest as he nodded.

 

August 31st, 1971 - Black Estate, Derbyshire 12am

 

Upon the wall in an ornate scene was none other than Phineas Nigellus Black, adorned in multi-layered black and silver robes as he stood within his frame- his back to the occupants gathered around the large oak table. Candlelight bathed him in a soft glow- he relished the silence, but his curiosity won as he turned back to ask a question.

 

“Did you call me here for advice or as a messenger Arcturus.”

 

There sitting at the head of the table in an intricate wooden chair, which was embellished with hand-carved scenes of wizards fighting dragons, dueling, and merriment- Resting against the red handwoven cloth embroidered with the family crest, was a stout older wizard. His black hair, peppered with gray, cut short and fell back in windswept waves. His jaw was chiseled and covered by a neatly trimmed mustache and beard. His cold, silver-blue eyes locked onto Phineas’s form. His wife, sitting to the right of him- was a petite woman with blonde-grey hair and light green eyes. She moved to soothe him, her hand coming to rest on his arm.

 

“It is both and more, I fear.”

  “Then ask patriarch.” Phineas gestured for him to continue.

“Is what the papers have reported true?”

 

“Yes, I was privy to moments between the former Headmaster Dippet and the current- Albus Dumbledore that reaffirmed that man’s blood status.”

 

Gasps rang around the room.

 

“And you thought not to speak as you noticed that cuckoo dig his talons into this family?” Arcturus yelled, his face turning red as he harshly slammed his palm on the table.

  “Dear, calm-” Melania’s whispered. Those seated around them shuffled nervously- lips tight as they held their tongues.

 

“I was bound then, just as I am bound now, to the headmaster’s oath. I can only speak of this today due to the behest of the current Headmaster.” His statement silenced Arcturus.

 

“I-a proper son of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black—had to watch as a silver-tongued Half-Blood swallowed MY house, A house that has killed or blasted off their own for less- I disowned one of my own sons, the one named in my sake, for supporting Muggle rights. Yet here, one descendant is a daughter permanently bound to one of his ardent followers, and the other two daughters are also bound in contract to those branded by this man. And a worse blasphemy of the highest order- The future of our house, the sons of the patriarchs direct line, promised to this man by vow.”- Phineas boomed.

 

Phineas scanned the shamed faces sitting around the table, only the heads of the Black family were allowed in today-Cygnus and Druella, their contrasting complexions mirroring Arcturus and his wife. Cygnus, with dark black hair and silver-grey eyes, and Druella- blondish hair and light blue eyes, were the ones who had “opened the door” for the Dark Lord into the Black family looked on with pale faces. Cygnus, clammy as perspiration collected on his brow. Druella was unable to raise her eyes as she twiddled her thumbs together in her lap- She had pushed heavily for the marriage contracts between her three daughters- Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa. Orion, muscles still twitching from the morning crucio, coughed and adjusted in his seat-hands clenched into fists as he calculated in his head the number of gallons he had donated to the cause. Walburga was silent, her hair unkempt, a bruise upon her lip as her eyes reflected the black madness. Her nails dug into her thighs,-piercing through her robes as she battled to keep her mouth shut- She had been the one to make the vow with the Dark Lord, promising Sirius the Heir and Regulus’s involvement once they came of age.

Alphard, brother of Cygnus and Walburga, was most similar in appearance to a young Sirius. Although Sirius had more chiseled features instead of Alphard's soft beauty- sat smugly; he was one of the only ones who had tried to prevent the others from joining hands with this Dark Lord. Cassiopeia, Pollux’s sister, had greying hair and soft brown eyes,-grinned in satisfaction. She had berated Pollux, her brother, and Irma, his wife, for encouraging Cygnus and Walburga and disparaging his son Alphard for separating himself. Pollux and Irma- both similar in complexion, with brown hair and dark eyes, sat quietly at the other end of the table. They, too, had donated a significant amount to the cause- even gifting the Dark Lord one of their summer homes in Germany.

 

 “I was not the one that led this family astray- You Arcturus, are the patriarch. You were supposed to be the “guard”- you are the guiding voice and the firm wand that directs this family! If I could only blast you all off and start anew, I would- but alas, I am dead and stuck for eternity behind these frames! You have already caused our house to be aligned with those of lessor blood- ensure that whatever direction you choose, that it does not cause the total ruin of our family!”

 

Arcturus nodded solemnly. He hesitated before asking one more question.

 

  “And...and the rest of what was reported? Is it also true?”

Phineas paused for a moment, taking his hands and clasping them together behind his robes, he looked down before replying.

 

“Everything that was reported is true, verified by the Headmaster, verified in the ministry from the talk of some of the agents connected with the unspeakables work- Ministry portraits overheard. They were the ones the reporter reached out to. Make no mistake, if I know, all the sacred 28 family will know soon. Allow me time to think on that before we speak again. "

 

“Thank you.”

Phineas bowed his head.

 

  “Let the Headmaster know I’ll be reaching out to him soon.”

 

Phineas, turned and vanished from the frame.

 

A cold silence covered the room, each member waited with bated breath as they viewed Arcturus’s solemn face. It was several minutes before Arcturus slowly stood before the table, taking his wand in hand, he announced.

 

“I, Arcturus Octans Black III Patriarch of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black-ban the continued support, either financially, politically, or socially, of this Dark Lord known as Tom Riddle for the lies and betrayal of our family. You will ward your homes against him, you will guide your sons and daughters to disavow their connection in whatever way they can, and you-Walburga, will find a way to end your vow, or you will pay the consequences in our heir's stead- this I command, so mote it be.”

 

 

September 1st- Evan’s House 7:30am

 

There was a light knocking on the door, Louis got up from the living room couch, checking his watch he mumbled “right on time” before wiping his hands on his trousers. He walked to the front door and opened it to welcome the Snapes. He took in Mrs. Snape’s appearance, she was a quiet woman, only speaking a few words in his presence the few times they had met, thin, pale, and sour faced - body hunched inward as if she wanted to disappear- she was a twitchy, nervous woman. Her jet-black hair and eyes, mirrored her equally sallow and sour-faced son. He was at a loss; he didn’t exactly like the boy- he had noticed how he acted with Petunia and Hermione versus Lily—but he knew from conversations with his wife that the Snapes were in a tight spot. Hearing what might be happening behind closed doors caused him to rage-He had almost shown up at their house on Spinner's End, ready to knock some sense into Mr. Snape, but Rose had held him back. Whispering that if they intervened without Mrs. Snape being the one to ask, they could make both her and her son’s situation much worse. She had to want to leave, had to choose to leave, or she might just go back or allow that devil back into their home with open arms. He had decided to do what he could and offer a safe place, so to speak, for the boy and for her. Severus still hadn’t opened up much- the prideful little thing—but he hoped that the more they showed this boy what a family was supposed to be like and showed Mrs. Snape that their door was always open, the more both of them would hopefully take a leap of faith.

 

“Ah, good morning, you all made it right on time.”

He stepped aside and welcomed them into the house. Severus, the more confident of the two, led his mother past the threshold and into the living room.

“Would you like some tea or something to eat- or both? There's still a bit of time left before we head out, and Rose made quite a spread this morning.”

The Snapes quietly looked into each other’s eyes, seeming to silently communicate before Severus replied.

  “Thank you, I think both would be nice.”

 

Rose walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel before throwing it over her shoulder as she smiled at the Snapes.

 

“AH, Eileen darling and Severus love, you made it! Welcome in, come, come, I’ll set out some spots for you at the table over here!”

Rose rushed forward and took Eileen’s hands, rubbing her thumbs across the back of the woman’s pale hands. A calculating sort of look crossed Rose’s face before leading the woman and son into the kitchen.

“I hope everything went well. I know we asked you over quite early today.”

--

Severus thanked Mrs. Evans before telling the group that he would check in with the girls. He walked down the hallway; he took in the numerous family photos on the walls and the soft sounds of laughter coming from the kitchen he had just left. There was an aching sort of feeling in his chest, now that his stomach was no longer eating through his concentration, he noticed it-he rubbed his chest, hoping to will it away. He didn’t know what that feeling was, but it always seemed to come when he looked at the pictures in this hall.

He passed the hall bathroom- steam blowing out under the door as the sound of the shower filled the hallway. He could tell it was Petunia, that off-key singing was unmistakable. He walked past her door- taking in the new additions—more posters and art she had drawn taped across it in a collage of boys and… Abstract pieces.

 

Lilies door was next along the hallway; it too was decorated - clippings of Vogue models and photoshoots from Harper’s Bazaar, along with Polaroids of her and some of the kids from the neighborhood. He smiled at this. He had stolen one once; it was a photo of them together at the park one of the other kids had taken. He always kept it on him, it helped on some of the worst days to see her smiling face. His eyes caught a flash of pink - He turned his head to see Hermione’s door. Mostly unadorned, the only thing secured to it was a preserved pink camellia. He had seen Hermione the day she had placed it on her door- a soft look as she gently caressed the flower. She always ghosted her fingers over it each time she went into her room, from what he could see. He had asked Lily about it, she had gotten angry with him that day, asking why he was so interested before spitting out that she didn’t know. Hermione had come home with it after their disastrous trip to Diagon Alley. He wondered who would be bold enough to to give her a flower expressing the feeling of longing- of missing them and, in some cases, love. There was an ugly feeling that always came with that line of thought. It was the same feeling he got when Lily spent too much time with others. Shaking his head, he knocked on Lily’s door. A mumbled ‘Just a moment” before the pattering of feet - the door swung open, revealing Lily, slightly out of breath.

She smiled, that lovely smile she’d always give him before pulling him into her room, leaving the door slightly cracked.

“Oh sev, I’m glad you all decided to join us. I didn’t know if your mom would go for it, but she was surprisingly agreeable once Hermione talked to her. “A grimace flashed across her face briefly before forming back into that lovely smile.

“Yes, I’m glad as well.” He was always nervous in Lily’s room, eyes greedily taking in everything- Her rumpled bed, covered in pink and lace, the small plant on her window- barely alive but still blooming in a wilted sort of way. Books and clothes lay across her desk, her Hogwarts trunk at the end of her bed- lid still open as she neatly packed her supplies and clothes away.

 

“Sev, I know we talked about it before, but what house should we focus on getting? Do you still believe Slytherin is the best house to pick?”

  “Yes, it's one of the best houses in all of Hogwarts, my family has traditionally been placed there as well.”

“But…” Her smile dimmed as she stopped for a moment, walking to sit on her bed before continuing.

“I heard from Professor McGonagall it’s a house traditionally filled with mainly pure-bloods, the kind like we met in Diagon Alley. Do you think it really matters, Sev? That I’m Muggle-born?”

He looked into her emerald green eyes, so innocent and pure. He took her hands as he sat down next to her on her bed- he couldn’t stop the lie that slipped from his lips.

 

“No Lily, it doesn’t matter at all.”

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

Hermione twirled her hair as she listened to the chattering of conversation floating around the car; music turned low complemented the excited voices. Montague’s Guide to Modifying Everyday Spells sat open on her lap. As she stared at the pages, she noticed no matter what she tried to read, the words were not registering. Her hand grasping Petunia’s next to her- She had been working overtime to mend that insidious feeling that came from Petunia after finding out she and Lily had magic. Her magic guided her to push for a few hushed conversations, and one fantastic row later, Petunia confessed that she felt left behind- afraid to be left alone in every way that mattered- that she felt useless as the older sister, Hermione’s extreme intelligence and independence, not to mention Lily following close behind, had cultivated that feeling well before they even knew magic existed. She had pulled Petunia into the kitchen, gathered her parents and Lily before giving all of them charmed journals. She had explained to them that she didn’t want them to feel like Petunia did, left behind- that although they had owls, it still took time for them to communicate. And since electricity didn’t work in heavy magical areas, a telephone was out of the question- she had decided to make them all something as close as possible to instant communication. They were all astonished and skeptical that something magical would work for them, but Hermione reassured them she had charmed them in a way that even non-magical folks could use.

 

She had wanted to give them a little piece of magic, something they could call their own. And it was a piece of mind for her, they would be able to reach out to her, or she could check in on them during the school year. She knew that Riddle wouldn’t find out it was her who provided the information for the expose- she had covered her tracks well. But she wanted- no needed to have this to help with the growing anxiety. Her family was still a target with or without them knowing it was her. They spent the rest of the night testing out the journals, Hermione had explained, as long as they named who they wanted to speak with first, it would connect with the right person- there would be a small vibration and then a warming sensation to let them know they had a message. She smiled a bit as she remembered her father pulling her to the side, gently asking after a few awkward starts if it was okay to be using magic before school started. He had coughed and rubbed the back of his neck as he reassured her he thought it was brilliant and loved the gift- he just didn’t want her getting in trouble. She had smiled mischievously and reassured him that it was okay- she had checked. She knew from her first life that the trace wasn’t applied until they crossed the threshold of Hogwarts- it would then start recording any improper use of magic… If in non-magical areas. After their break-in at the Ministry, she was able to learn that the Trace really only applied to Muggle-borns and some Half-bloods that lived in Muggle areas- it was another method of control. In other magical households they didn’t monitor them, as they expected their magical parents to oversee or take care of any issues that might come up.

 

It is what had caused her to be so exhausted these last few days, from apparating to collect information, charming the journals, recreating her extended bag, charming her trunk, and a multitude of small precautions she’d warded into the house for her parents- she was running on bare fumes. The journal that she had kept hidden with all her memories from her time as Hermione Granger seemed to burn a hole in her leather bag. There was still so much to do, so many things to plan for. She had never been a great chess player, never as good as Ron or Dumbledore- but she had spent the last few years honing her moves. She hoped Ron would be proud if he could see her now.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

After a short hype session from Mcgonagall and Mrs. Snape and then a practical demonstration by the Snapes, the Evans family finally arrived on the platform to the Hogwarts Express. Hermione looked around in a combination of awe and melancholy, it was still as beautiful and unworldly as the last time she had experienced it. The hazy steam from the train wrapped around each vaulted light, giving off an ethereal feeling- the hustle of magical families as they primped, pampered, and hugged their loved ones- or those families boisterous calls as they directed their path through the chaos. The cries of magical pets and the metallic clattering sound of carts as they were unloaded onto the train blended seamlessly with the voices of well-wishers and the tears of fretful goodbyes. It had been 9 years for her, ever since she realized she had been reborn at two years old- the pain of her past memories- of her insecurities, had dulled but never left. It was a phantom menace, reappearing in odd moments to steal her breath or disrupt her dreams. Small phrases, certain smiles from Lily, or the horrifyingly similar snark from Severus dragged them forward from their hidden depths. The occlumency she had learned had helped tremendously with her overwhelming emotions as the days passed until the start of the semester, but she couldn’t occlude it all for the rest of her life. She knew it would be a challenge to see the ghosts of her past, or the worst ghost of them all-a boy with a strikingly familiar face, even if he didn’t share the same eyes. She had hoped that meeting them now- when they were young, barely grown into the features she was more intimately aware of that it would help. It had with Sirius. She knew it was her cross to bear, for magic had decided to grant her this second chance, and she had decided early on that she would bear anything to change the future.

 

The strong grip of her father pulled her from her thoughts- she noticed the slight glassiness of his eyes, the soft redness of the tip of his nose. Standing close to him, was her mother, eyes already puffing and red as she quickly dabbed at them with her handkerchief- they both pulled her in for a tight hug as they whispered their goodbyes. Petunia, behind her, standing awkwardly as she glanced around, stepped up to pull her from their embrace and into her own.

  “I- I’m sorry.” she whispered, before pulling back to look at her response, her blue eyes tracing her face for any information on how she felt.

“I know I’ve been a prat, but I will miss you. Lily and Sev already ran off to the train.”

Hermione's eyes shone with acceptance- a small smirk graced her lips. Pulling her back for one more hug, she gave her a wobbling reply.

“You take care of them, okay?”

This small phrase, combined with the soft look of trust on her face, caused tears to fall from Petunia’s eyes. She nodded vigorously as she stepped back to take hold of their mother's hand.

 

Hermione waved, as she finally stepped forward and made her way onto the train.

__

It had taken her a while to find a compartment that wasn’t full, she was slightly dazed as her magic expanded and spread out. It grazed across each compartment, giving her little glimpses of the occupants inside. Near the back of the train, a feeling of relief, of familiarity and contentment, flooded through her- she stopped, slowly opening the compartment, and set her gaze upon a sandy haired, green-eyed boy wedged tightly against the back wall near the window- who looked absolutely terrified to see her standing there. His worn copy of Hogwarts a History clenched in white-knuckled hands. It took her a moment to catalog all the differences, Remus’s boyish cheeks unmarred, although pale and clammy, the small glimpses of flesh along his neck and hands also unblemished- he looked whole. His presence was small and nervous as he struggled to get comfortable, no longer the more assured professor of her memories, the commanding order member- her steady sounding board for complex ideas—or her silent library partner. Giving him her most brilliant smile, she leaned into the compartment and shyly asked.

“Hello there, would it be alright if I sat with you? Most of the other compartments are full.”

He gripped his book tighter- she internally winced as she wondered if he’d be capable of ripping it in half at this age. Gosh, and it was one of her favorites too, she lamented. He coughed before stuttering out-

“Y-yes, yes, you can sit with me.”

 

Her smile still graced her face as she clapped in excitement and brought her trunk into the compartment. As she struggled to lift it onto the shelf, she felt the soft brush of his arms as he stepped behind her to assist. There was a sprawling, heady feeling that swelled in her heart- time and physical attributes could change, but the gentle and helpful heart of one Remus Lupin was the same. She could tell he was trying his hardest not to touch she made sure her movements were slow as  not to pressure him too much. They both settled down, she sat across from him, both next to the window- before thanking him.

 

“Thank you, that was so heavy, I was getting tired pulling it all around. I’ve read ahead a bit for some spells that might have helped, but I wasn’t sure we could use them on the train.”

 

He nodded to her, eyes wide and confused- it was the most adorable look, she decided. She could tell he was struggling with the conversation but pressed on.

 

“Oh, where are my manners! I haven’t introduced myself. The name's Hermione Evans. And you are?” She held out her hand in an offer to shake. He seemed to battle with deciding whether to take her hand or not, she waited patiently, hoping he would. Panic and then resolve crossed his face as he slowly reached out to grasp her hand. It was warm yet firm -giving her a light shake, he replied.

 

“Re-Remus Lu-Lupin. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Yes, it’s nice to meet new friends before the semester starts! Are you going into first year too?"

His mouth slightly opened as shock spread across his face.

 

“OH-ohhh, friends? Y-y-y-ou want to be friends with ME?” - His voice cracked as he blurted out, his hand had unconsciously lifted to point at his chest. She couldn’t help it, she had never seen anyone as caught off guard by a question as he was and let out a hearty laugh. His cheeks turned a bright pink as she struggled to calm her laughs into more controllable giggles.

 

“Why yes! I’m sorry, really I’m sorry, but you looked so cute it caught me off guard. I was hoping to be friends with the nice boy- who I also noticed is reading one of my favorite books. If that’s agreeable with you. "She nodded to the book lying in his lap. She could see that his blush extended now to his neck.

 

“Oh, uh, I mean yes, yes, I’d like to be friends. And, uh, yes, I’m also heading into first year as well. Hogwarts a History is actually my favorite book to- especially the descriptions about the houses.” He had given her such a timid smile while replying.

 

They spoke for a few more moments, delighting in the shared love of chapter four - the delightfully detailed portion of Hogwarts a History that went into depth on the type of charms they used in areas around the castle—or chapter ten, which diligently broke down the additions to the castle over the years. Hermione was about to pull out her book to show Remus some of the charm theory she’d been reading on the way over when the loud bang of the compartment door being thrust open startled them both.

 

    “PRINCESS, YOU’RE HERE!!" an exuberant voice bellowed.

       “Wait what?!?! Who’s the Princ-” the voice behind him questioned.

Remus looked at her in shock- a disbelief crossed his face as he quickly came to the wrong conclusion-that he was in the company of some lost member of magical royalty. She rolled her eyes and shook her head back and forth, hoping to sway him from that train of thought.

“I AM SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU, PRINCESS!” the voice cried again.

“SIRIUS BLACK! Lower your voice! Please!” She jumped up, rushing to tackle him in a tight hug. His arms wrapped around her as he pulled her close, his face nuzzling into her swaying curls, picking her up slightly, and moving into the compartment. He swung her around in a circle, causing her to laugh out as she clung to him.

“You better not drop me- so help me! Put me down, Sirius, put me down!”

“Oi princess, you’re giving a bloke mixed signals here, “dont drop me , Sirius; put me down, Sirius.' Which is it.” His eye twinkled in mirth as he scanned her face, taking in all the details he might have missed. She rolled her eyes again, hugging him tighter before asking to be put down once more. She backed up and turned to look at Remus, so still very confused as his eyes bounced between her and Sirius.

“Oh, Sirius, I want you to meet my new friend. This is Remus, Remus Lupin. He’s going to be a first year like us.” Sirius snapped his gaze from her form and took a look at Remus. There was a slight narrowing of his eyes before he flashed a toothy smile and walked around Hermione with his hand extended.

“Hey mate, my name is Sirius, Sirius Black.” Remus, less hesitant this time, reached out and took his hand in a firm shake. Remus gave him a nod in acknowledgment before looking back at Hermione. She just smiled and moved back to where she was sitting. Sirius quickly claimed the seat beside her.

“OI! What am I, chopped liver, mate?? And here I thought my best mate wouldn’t leave me behind once he met a pretty girl, yet here we are. WOE IS ME.” - The boy left at the entrance of the compartment, sighing dramatically, leaning against the door frame as he placed one hand against his heart and the other across his brow, leaning back in woeful fashion. Sirius let out a barking laugh before standing up and waving him in. He helped pull both of their trunks into the compartment and onto the shelving above before sitting back down next to Hermione. The eccentric new companion laughed as he walked in and closed the door. He took a seat next to Remus. Hermione froze as she took in a familiar face. Wild, untameable black locks that stuck up in the back with the classic Potter cowlick complemented tanned, sun-kissed skin and hazel eyes framed by thick, black-rimmed glasses. Hermione took a deep breath, occlumency briefly helping her tamp down her emotions. He was a spitting image of Harry- or rather, Harry had been a spitting image of him. Yet he held himself completely different- there was an airy arrogance in how he moved, a healthy fullness in his form that Harry had never achieved with how the Dursleys withheld his food. Sirius seemed to sense her discomfort; leaning in so that their shoulders touched, he raised his eyebrows, questioning if she was okay. She signaled back that she was fine, slowly moving to grasp his free hand and give it a squeeze. He seemed to melt when she did.

“LOOK! There you go again! I didn’t know you were such a sap. At least introduce me to this princess and her guard here. "

“Ha ha, this git here is James, James Potter- And James, this is Hermione Evans, and I’m sure you heard her introduce our chap Remus here. "

“Evans? I’ve never heard of a family named Evans before. Are you really some foreign princess?” James asked as she looked her over. She pursed her lips together, giving Sirius a dirty look before correcting him.

“No, no, I’m not some foreign princess, Sirius here has decided that’s my nickname-apparently. Although I think Hermione is a lovely name, it is mine after all.” She tried to hint to him as she patted Sirius’s knee before glancing at Remus, he seemed to deflate and relax more into his seat.

“Um... You might not have heard of the family name Evans before, well because I’m Muggle-born. I hope that won't be a problem.”

 

James gave her an incredulous look, sputtering out his reply.

“Wh-wh-what! Why would you think it was a problem? Of course not, like my mother always says, magic is magic- it’s the action of folks, not the blood you have to worry about.”

Her face softened- Oh, Harry, you really are like him, she thought.

“Hear Hear.” Remus chimed in, arms crossed with his eyes closed as he nodded sagely.

James took one look at the slight paling on Sirius’s face before clearing his throat.

 

“Emm- Well I’ve got to ask, how exactly did you meet Sirius? I met him in Diagon Alley looking for Quidditch supplies, seemed like a cool dude who happened to also be related. Mum’s side and all that bash.”

  “Oh, what a small world! It was on one of his grand adventures, I guess, just popped up out of the blue, blocking my afternoon sun at Hyde Park.”

“Hyde Park?” James questioned.

“Oh, a muggle park in London, it’s really very lovely.”

 

Sirius interjected, eyebrows wiggling, “You seemed like you could use a friend. I’ve heard I’m all the rage.”

“Nah don’t let him fool you, he’s just a poncy git that happens to know some cool Quidditch facts.” James retorted as he tapped Sirius’s shin with his boot.

“HEY now! Im-”

Remus’s laugh interrupted Sirius’s quip; they all joined in once they saw the affronted look on Sirius’s face.

James started again-

“So what houses do you guys think you’ll be put into? I’m betting Gryffindor. Most of my family is Gryffindor, and it would be a heck of a lot better than somewhere like Slytherin.” The word slid out of James's mouth as if it were a curse.

“Hey now, most of my family has been in Slytherin, heck I think they expect me to be sorted there or else.” James made a face of disgust before quickly changing it to pity.

“Oi mate, that’s the worse luck, hopefully you can ask for something different. You don’t seem much like a snake.”

Hermione felt Sirius hold her hand tighter, his body seeming to lean into hers for comfort. Remus piped up as he set his book down.

“I’d really like Gryffindor too, but I’d be okay with Ravenclaw.” James fist-bumped into the air before turning to slightly shake Remus on the shoulder. Remus tensed up a bit before relaxing.

 

“Good answer, sir, superb answer- and what about you, Princess?” James chimed. Sirius tilted his head slightly, his eyes gazing at her as she replied.

“Honestly, all the houses seem lovely, I’ll just be happy I’m going to a magical school. I never even knew this existed until a few years ago. I’ve been cramming like mad trying to fit as much as I can before the school starts. "The boys gave her a soft smile before Sirius piped up.

“Well we’re better for it to have you here, princess, but with the way I’ve seen you curled up with a book more often than not, I’d hedge my bets on Ravenclaw.”

James groaned loudly, causing them to laugh again.

 

“Sat up with a bunch of Bookieclaws and a potential snake. What is the world coming to?!?!?”

 

As James and Remus turned to talk more about the Hogwarts houses, Sirius leaned in close, his voice soft as he apologized.

“I hope you’ve been okay, I was worried about what you heard Walburga say that day.” He rubbed her hands- “It wasn’t right what she said, and I’m sorry you had to hear it.”

Warmth radiated from his hands and traveled up through her arms she couldn't help but think he was sweet. This was a tiny speck of the older Sirius she knew; although troubled by his dark family, he shined in these small moments where he tried to do the right thing.

 

“Thank you, but please don’t worry about it. I hadn’t met her, but from what I gathered from you and everyone else is that she wasn’t exactly anyone’s cup of tea. I was just worried you might have gotten in trouble because of me.” He quickly shook his head no.

She smiled before whispering, “Good, it’s so lovely to see you again. I missed you.”

He smiled brightly, seeming to relax more against her at hearing her acceptance and dismissal of Walburga’s words. He conjured a blue hydrangea, handing it to her. Her lips quirked into a loving smile as she accepted the flower, once again tracing the petals.

“Thank you, it's beautiful, Sirius.”

He seemed to puff up his chest, a bright smile beaming from his lips as he turned to join James and Remus’s conversation that had devolved into a debate on the best Quidditch team of the season.

 

They chatted for a while before James convinced Remus to play a game of exploding snap. Hermione had finally pulled out her book, letting Sirius know she was going to finish reading it before they arrived. Sirius huffed at being ignored for a book but acquiesced to her reading time as long as he was allowed to take a nap with his head in her lap. She adjusted before patting her lap, mumbling about dramatic, needy boys, and started to read. Sirius laid his head in her lap, eyes closed as he was lulled to sleep by the rocking of the train, the enchanting smell of apple blossom, and the soft brush of Hermione’s fingers through his hair. It spun a soothing feeling of contentment that traveled from the tips of his roots to his toes- Her magic just as warm as he remembered.

 

Sirius was rocked awake by a small hand on his shoulder, he groaned before trying to snuggle into his pillow deeper. The rowdy laughs of Remus and James snapped his eyes open as he realized where he was. Hermione was trying to hide her giggles with her book, but her soft caress of his hair had never stopped.

“Good afternoon, you were out for a while there, but it's time to get dressed in our uniforms. I think we have about 15 minutes more.”

He yawned and rubbed his eyes before getting up. He quickly kicked James in the foot after noticing his wiggling eyebrows and goofy faces. Remus just smiled, his eyes observing his face before he continued reading his book, already dressed in his robes. Sirius stood up to allow Hermione to pass. She fumbled with her trunk, which he helped hold while she grabbed her clothes. Giving a quick thank you and a wave before she headed off to change.

 

“Sweet girl, that one.” James grunted as he pulled his shirt over his head.

“Yeah, one of the sweetest I’ve ever met.” Sirius replied- turning away from James and Remus as he pulled his robes on.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

The group scrambled off the train, taking in the other groups of students rushing to the white carriages up ahead. They heard a large bellow from across the platform.

 

“First years, first years over here!” The voice came from a large man with an equally large head of wild curly hair and an exceptionally lush beard who stood at the end of the platform. Sirius had never seen a man so tall in his life, and he had lived in the magical community.

“Blimey, he’s got to be 7 ft tall!”

“Oh, more than that, I reckon at least 8-10 ft,” Remus stated in response to James. Hermione just stood quietly next to them, taking in Hagrid’s tall form. Happiness flashed in her golden eyes before she stepped forward.

Before she could get far, she pitched forward, anxiety racing as she forced her hands out in front of her, hoping to catch her fall. There was a sharp pain in her back where something had hit her. Sirius scrambled to catch her while looking around for the perpetrator. He noticed a smug-looking boy with black hair and a girl that he had seen that day at Diagon Alley pass to the front of them.

“Oi’ watch it mate, you nearly hurt her.” Sirius bristled, his grip tight on her arms as he scanned her for harm. Hermione had grabbed onto him to stabilize herself. Huffing as she finally stood upright. She quietly thanked Sirius for his help his grey eyes darkened as he noticed her roll her shoulders, slightly wincing.

“Well maybe the twit needs to watch where she’s going.” Severus snarled- crossing his arms as a disgruntled look passed over his face. He stared at Sirius’s hands resting on Hermione’s arms.

“Oi hey-”

“You need to apologize-”

“Don’t you call her names, ASS-”

“WOAH, Sirius, it’s okay—boys, really, I’m okay. I’m sure Severus here didn’t mean anything by it. Right, Lily- Sister.” Hermione gently broke Sirius’s hold as she dusted off her robes and turned her stern gaze at both of them- Eyes flashing. All the boys except Severus gaped at Hermione in shock-however her gaze stayed locked onto Lily’s, eyes narrowing as if willing her to speak up.

“Mia’s right, Sev, you didn’t mean anything by it, right? It was just an accident.” Snape looked like he wanted to deny it before nodding in response. Lily Smiled- it made the boys hackles rise.

“See Mia, it’s all good. Well— We’re going to go. Sev still has to tell me some more details about Slytherin House. We’re both hoping to join.” she preened, tossing her dark red hair over her shoulder.

“HA-” James belted as Sirius and Remus just looked on confused. Hermione tried to stop James from continuing, but he was just as slippery and challenging to grab onto as Harry when he was determined.

“Mental, absolutely mental- why would anyone want to be a Slimey Snake?”

“Huh- Let me guess, no brains and all brawn, probably hoping to be a Gryffindor- some of us actually value cunning and ambition.”- Snape snarked back.

“Sure Snivellus, when you find them, point them in my direction because all I see here are a few dunderheads that can’t even walk right without hurting someone.” Sirius gritted out, he had moved slightly in front of Hermione, blocking Snape's and Lily's view of her.

“Oh no, Sirius..”

“Hey that wasn’t Ni-” both girls' voices rang out. Snape and Sirius started to get into each other's faces, James stepped up, backing Sirius. They formed a wall in front of Remus and Hermione. She looked to Remus and pointed her head in the direction of the quarreling boys, walking forward to grab Sirius’s arm while Remus, thankfully, understood her direction and grabbed onto James's. They slowly talked them down and brought some space between them.

Lily grabbed onto Snape, tugging once and then twice- forcing him away in the direction of Hagrid before giving Hermione a dirty look.

“Come on, Sev, it’s not worth it, they’re not worth it- lets go.”

James and Sirius needed a moment to cool down before they continued to walk to the spot where the other first years were standing. Sirius once again slipping next to her side.

“That’s your sister?”

“Ye-P”

Hermione answered back, popping the P. She was slightly miffed; she had known about the train confrontation from some talks between her and Remus when they were stationed at Grimmauld place. She had been on a high with the knowledge that she had successfully thwarted Peter from joining the compartment with a weak notice-me-not on the door after Sirius and James joined. She had even placed a light compulsion on Lily and Snape to find a cabin far from the one Remus had described. Yet fate still found a way for them to antagonize each other before ever having the stigma of their houses attached.

“She doesn’t seem the friendly sort, pardon my words.” Remus squeaked, he had noticed Hermione’s sour mood.

“No she is, I swear. But the combination of her and Snape seems to bring out the worst in each other sometimes. It’s always been a bit like that, Snape is a childhood friend.”

“I wouldn’t call that a friend.” James gripped, eyebrows raising sharply as he rolled his eyes.

She laughed as she noticed his expression, this helped the dark mood that had fallen to lighten a bit as they listened to Hagrid explain the boats.

 

James led the way, all brash and bravado, with Remus right behind him, silent but steady, as they picked a boat. Both boys jumped in before Sirius stepped in front of her, before turning around to offer her a hand. She thanked him before grabbing onto it- his grip was firm, she noticed before stepping into the boat.

She stared, taking in the faces of the boys as she watched them laugh and play; they looked so free. As she sat basking in their joy, she reaffirmed her vow, her magic swelling as it responded to her- she wanted them to always look like this. She would make sure the future she knew never came to be, or at least she’d die once more before ever allowing it to happen again. She leaned back, placing her hand on the side of the boat as she trailed her fingers in the water of the black lake. She could feel the magic humming; it was smoothing.

The boys gasped, she felt Sirius reach for her hand- gripping it as she looked up and took in the wonder. Majestic- heady and prominently seated between elevated hills- sat Hogwarts- lanterns illuminating her mighty halls, towers looming over grand courtyards, stone covered in ivy, owls flying in the night sky. Dread filled her- It was a second home to her- it was her grave. Now it was also her personal battleground.

Notes:

This was another long one, sorry to end it before the sorting but at 7k+ words I felt it was better to break it up a bit.
Posting schedule- M-F. Usually upload around 5-6pm est.

Chapter 7: Across the Universe

Summary:

A good gardener knows that sometimes their crops grow as expected and others fail to germinate.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, This is my first fanfic.

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“People often say that this or that person has not yet found himself. But the self is not something one finds, it is something one creates.” – Thomas Szasz

---

 

September 1st, 1971 Hogwarts

 

Hermione trailed her finger across the cool stone of the castle walls, its changing textures and slopes lulled her as they made their ascent to the hall-It still smelled the same as she remembered. This was the stairwell that Colin died in-she occluded more. The chattering portraits, some slipping out to follow the newest students, some pointing out their descendants, while others were making bets on who would be sorted where. James, Sirius, and Remus walked just slightly in front of her- James was passionately expressing all of his grand plans for pranks, cajoling Sirius and Remus to be the ones to assist. They whispered conspiratorially, heads coming together, eyes looking around as if to check to see if anyone was listening before one would make a wild hand motion. Occasionally, they’d bring her into the fold to tweak a planned execution or ask if a certain charm worked better than another- she’d smile and guide them in the right direction. Her golden gaze slipped along the crowd, Lily and Severus in front of them- never turning back as they took in the details and spoke among themselves. She had eyed a young Peter Pettigrew; he was at the back, closer to who she thought were Everette Avery and Sebastian Mulciber- her eyes narrowed as she cataloged each future Death Eater. As they neared the entrance to the hall, she heard some of the other first years gasp and fall quiet. Standing proudly, arms crossed as she donned her favorite tartan robes, was McGonagall. Just as poised and stern, yet now the expressions crossed a much younger face. She had helped them cross onto the platform this morning, wishing them well and subtly warning both girls that she’d be keeping an eye on both of them. Her eyes picked out Lily first and then hers, tilting her head before moving onto the rest. She just stood, wand in hand, as her eyes appraised them- she waited for everyone to notice, and the hall naturally quieted. She moved forward before addressing them.

 

“Hello, and welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

She paused before continuing.

“In just a few short moments you will pass through these grand doors. Before you can take your seats, you will be sorted alphabetically into your house.” Some kids shuffled and whispered; she glared at them silently, and it was enough to hold their tongues.

 

“Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin—while you are here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs are their triumphs- along with sharing the burden of any shenanigans like rule breaking—you will gain or lose points for your house accordingly. At the end of the year, your house’s efforts will be ranked, and the one with the most points will be rewarded with the House Cup. Take a moment and reflect, for the sorting into your new family will begin momentarily.” She turned and then made her way through the hall doors.

 

She felt Sirius lean further into her side; she noticed he was twitchy now, one hand curling so his fingers would pick at the corner of his thumb while the other would come up and brush through his locks, his smile not reaching his eyes as James continued praising Gryffindor’s accolades. She reached up and pulled him back just a step. This broke his train of thought, he turned to her- his grey eyes clouded. It made her wonder if he was occluding just like her. She wiggled her finger in a “come here” motion before leaning her head in his direction. He leaned in to match her.

“It’ll be okay, Sirius, I promise.” She rubbed his arm, trying to settle his nerves.

He smiled, although it still didn’t reach his eyes.

“Tell me what’s bothering you; you know I promised you I’d always help.” This did help slightly; he smiled truly. It was a tiny smile, but she took it as a success to continue pushing.

“I don’t think you can help me this time, princess.”

“Just humor me a bit, this one time.”

“I-I don’t want to be a Slytherin— all my family's gone in that blasted house, and I can count on one hand those who I consider turned out decent. But what if I’m just the same as them?” He turned his eyes to the floor; his voice was soft at the end of his confession.

“Sirius Orion Black, if you can’t see what I see, then I’ll just have to tell you instead. I see a brave boy, with the potential to be a great wizard, a wonderful friend- some would say the best, I know- I think so. You simply being here with me, with James and Remus, just shows the rest of the world what we’ve been shown- you’re not like your family at all. You shine.”

He blushed as he took in her words, she took his hand in hers and intertwined their fingers.

“So be brave, take a leap of faith, and fight to build the future you want, and if all else fails, I know we’ll be right behind you to push you back onto the right path.”

He squeezed their hands, but uncomfortable with the honesty, he blurted out.

 

“Gosh, you’ve been keeping an eye on me, huh?"- Eye brows wiggling- "I know you just can’t help it with a sappy speech like that. Did you practice that one in the mirror, princess?”

She just scoffed at him and gave him a push before pulling him back closer to the other boys.

“Hey guys.”

They all turned to look at her.

“Promise me something.” She pulled out her pinky and pointed it at Sirius first. James looked on confused; Remus leaned in to explain what she was doing.

“Promise me, no matter how we’re sorted, we’ll always be friends. And don’t even think about taking my pinky if you don’t mean it, this is a very serious vow. "She chided.

Sirius melted once more in her hold, eyes glazing as he took her pinky with his own and shook.

“The most sacred, eh?”

“The most.” She confirmed with a solemn nod.

James jumped forward, hand outstretched as he grinned deviously.

“Come on, hit me with this Muggle magic- What happens if it gets broken—instant death? Early onset of male pattern baldness? Long chest hair or gnarly teeth? I’ll never know, but I am curious.” They laughed before continuing to exchange pinky promises. By the time they were done, the doors opened and they were ushered in.

 

James had tilted his face back as he led the group into the hall, eyes gazing upward as Remus whispered out.

“They’ve charmed it to look like the night sky, I read about it in Hogwarts a History.”

“Well I’ll be- I wonder if we’ll learn to be able to do something like that.” he pondered in response.

 

Hermione took in the Hall- candles floating, giving off a soft glow as the stars shined above them. She could only make out a few-Ciricinus, Corvus, Draco, and even Canis Major—before turning her sights on the tables, eyes pausing on familiar faces. The unmistakable blond platinum locks of one Lucius Malfoy sat at the middle of the Slytherin table, by his side, with elegantly coiffed hair, was Narcissa Malfoy née Black. She wasn’t familiar with when they had married, but she knew that their connection was set in stone by the time the Marauders had made it to Hogwarts. Both with impeccable posture, eyes cold as they commanded attention- she could tell that the house of snakes deferred to them by how they waited on their every word, pandering to catch their attention and curry their favor. She wondered how much the Malfoys were scrambling after Riddle’s reveal- there was a vindictive sense of pleasure that ran through her. She hoped he felt like a panicked dog, fearful, angry, and betrayed as his unworthy owner tightened the lead around his neck, strangling him just enough to show that resistance wouldn’t be tolerated- just wild enough to feel like he needed to chew off the mark branded into his arm in shame and desperation- short of doing that, one couldn’t glamour the mark or remove it with magic. She felt it then, a tiny brush against her magic, almost imperceptible. It gave off an inquisitive feel, starting first at her core before moving to brush against her mind. She snapped her eyes forward. She pushed out the intrusive magic, bolstering her magic to reach out and scold the offender. Twinkling eyes narrowed.

 

All the students turned to the old leather hat sitting upon a stool. James made the comment that it “didn't look like much” before pouting and saying, “I thought we’d have to do something cool like duel a dragon,” before it seemed to come alive and sing.

 

Oh, you may not think I’m much,

But don’t judge on what you see,

I’ll eat myself if you can find

A more intelligent hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black and bowed,

Your top hat's sleek and tall,

For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can top them all.

There’s nothing hidden in your head no matter how you hide,

That I, the Sorting Hat, can’t find,

So try me on, and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart set free,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true to the core

And unafraid of toil that presents on their door;

Or yet in the wise old Ravenclaw,

If you’ve a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You’ll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ambitious ends.

So put me on! Don’t be afraid!

And don’t get in a Tizzy!

You’re in safe hands (though I have none)

For I’m a Thinking Cap!

 

Mcgonagall’s voice boomed.

“Now, now, gather around. When I call your name, you will come forth—I shall place the sorting hat on your head, and you will then be sorted into your houses.” She lifted her arm; in her hands was a scroll that unraveled. She quickly scanned it before beginning to call names. Nervous anticipation crept up- here she would see if the fruits of her labor paid off. The targeted conversations with Snape the cultivation of Lily’s jealousy and insecurities- she had a few theories on why her sister seemed so different from what was described. None good, but she used that to her advantage and, most importantly, the separation of Peter.

 

“Avery, Everette Avery.”

 

The possible future Death Eater smiled, pushing against Mulciber. He was a short boy, at least shorter than any of the boys she’d seen so far in first year. His brownish-red hair and black eyes stood out; his skin was pale, and his features, even at eleven, made him look menacing. He quickly sat upon the chair; she noticed he did his best to not get too close or touch McGonagall. It only took a moment before the hat called out.

 

“SLYTHERIN!”

 

There was heavy cheering from the Slytherin tables, the rest less enthusiastic as the menacing boy made his way. Even Slughorn, sitting at the far end of the staff table, raised his glass before taking a sip. More names where called, some Ravenclaw, another Slytherin, even one Gryffindor. Sirius got tenser and tenser as his name got closer to being called. James noticed, patting him on the shoulder.

 

“Black, Sirius Black.”

 

The hall went silent, all eyes on the young black heir. Hermione squeezed his hand once more, reminding him to be brave before he stepped forward. She could see the hawkish gaze of Narcissa focus on him. No doubt she’d be reporting his sorting as soon as she could- even Dumbledore leaned forward, the only physical indication giving away his interest.

 

Sirius nearly tripped, but he played it off, turning to sit on the stool. He gave them a huge grin and a thumbs up. As McGonagall lowered the sorting hat, everyone seemed to take a breath. Hermione chewed her lips as the minutes passed by, she could see his lips moving, trying to reason with the hat. She knew that this would be one of the confirmations on whether her future knowledge still applied in some way to this life. Remus mumbled

“Common mate you got this.” James practically bouncing in anticipation, shaking Remus to-and-fro. He’d warmed up to more physical touch since the train, she couldn’t help but notice. Suddenly the hat called out—

 

“If you’re sure, better be, GRYFFINDOR!”

 

There were loud gasps across the dining hall; the wild yells of James, Hermione, Remus, and Sirius himself overshadowed the shocked whispers. They clapped and whistled, cheering loudly as the rest of the Gryffindor table, momentarily shocked, started to cheer as well.

 

Sirius jumped up from his seat after the hat was removed, his tie turning red and gold as he fist-bumped the air before looking for Hermione. Seeing her cheer for him, he grinned, cheeks hurting from how wide he beamed- he mouthed, “You were right.” He gave her the same dramatic bow he had when they met. He righted himself before he brought his left hand, the same hand he had vowed with, and kissed his pinky, winking in her direction. McGonagall tried to hold back her own smile as she shooed him off the stage. The Gryffindor table welcomed him with open arms and exuberant handshakes.

 

James leaned closer to Hermione as they both watched him settle into the Gryffindor table.

“I knew that poncy git had it in him! I’m a good judge of character.”

“Of course- of course, James.” She replied as she returned her focus onto Dumbledore. He was staring at Sirius, a curious expression on his face, before it morphed into something that chilled her. Calculating. She’d be sure to nip that in the bud as fast as she could, eyes narrowing as she willed him to keep his attention on her. More students were called forward and sorted before it was finally her turn.

 

“Evans, Hermione Evans.”

 

James and Remus gave her a hug each before nudging her toward the front. She could feel the burning gaze of Sirius, his anxiety nearly palpable from where she walked, and the scrutiny of Dumbledore- she felt relief as he finally seemed to stop pondering Sirius. She reached the stool, and McGonagall made an expression that seemed to question, ‘Are you ready?’

She smirked before turning to sit on the stool, eyes covered as McGonagall lowered the hat onto her head, the brim blocking out her view- a deep voice spoke in her mind.

 

“Hmm, it seems I’ve come across someone very interesting this year, I can see in your mind we have met before, yet I have never met you. I can see flames and war- Could it be? Time travel?”

 

“I think it's a bit more than that, I fear.”

 

“I see, I see… You’ve got the makings of something great—no, no, you are already great, cunning, ruthless ambition, and drive. No, not Slytherin; it wouldn’t be safe.. You’re brave, very brave.. Yet intelligent too, very intelligent. Yet you learn to use more than you learn for joy.. Loyal and steadfast to a fault… it seems you’d do well no matter where you’d go… So where to put you..”

Hermione started to whisper to the hat, the mantra repeating.

 

“I need connections, I need a shield. I have a mission to complete.”

 

“I see, yes... That would work… ferocious, tenacious, loyal, and trustworthy… Good luck.”

Hermione smiled.

 

“I KNOW JUST WHAT YOU NEED.. HUFFLEPUFF!”

 

Loud cheers from the Hufflepuffs as her tie turned yellow and black. She saw the brief sadness on her boys faces before they smiled and cheered. She hopped off, turning to look at Sirius before kissing her pinky finger- he brightened up at the gesture- she turned, waving at the others. Dumbledore’s attention was once again on her; she was relieved as she noticed his brief disappointment before he raised his glass to her. She walked over and received the same welcome as Sirius, the puffs all sincere smiles and welcomes. Another first-year reached over to shake her hand.

“Welcome, welcome. Gosh, you’re so pretty. My name’s Amy Abbott.” a soft, mousy voice cooed. Hermione smiled as she realized the resemblance- Hannah, she must be her mother. She had never gotten to meet Hannah’s mother; she could only remember the horrified face and Hannah’s loud sobs when McGonagall escorted her out of the Great Hall after she had been informed that her mother had been killed by Death Eaters during their sixth year. The smile was the same, slightly crooked but full; strawberry-blonde hair framed light hazel eyes and plump cheeks.

 

“Me? Just look at you! And thank you, I’m so happy to be here.” Amy blushed as she moved to sit between her and a second-year. They chatted for a while, gushing over the spread. She had never been great with socializing, but she had pushed herself to join local groups in Cokesworth to force herself to get used to small talk- to better pick up those social cues she used to miss. It took everything in her not to just pull out one of her books while she waited for the others to be sorted. Plus, Amy was sweet, and that made it so much easier.

 

“Evans, Lily Evans.” Mcgonagall called out.

 

“Oh, another Evans, is she your sister?” Amy asked as she watched Lily quickly walk to be seated.

“Older sister, actually, by a few minutes. She always likes to tell me.” That got a giggle out of Amy.

 

It was barely a few moments before the hat bellowed out- it caused her heart to quicken- it had worked.

“RAVENCLAW!”

She sighed in relief as she watched Lily, slightly pale as she looked at Severus’s sad gaze before heading to the Ravenclaw table. She cheered just as loudly and exuberantly as she had done for Sirius. Lily noticed, looking over with a confused face before greeting her new housemates.

 

She knew it had always been between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for Lily of the past, so she had worked on channeling Lily’s fiery nature into less passionate displays and into more subtle machinations. She was still kind, still sweet, still driven, but now she pursued learning more to be the best twin between them. It also helped that she knew Slytherin would never be an option for either of them- at least not in this social environment. The Hat would consider each student's safety to a certain degree.

 

More names were called and sorted; some she’d never heard of, some she did. Alice Fortescue, Neville’s mother- the one he got his cheeks and eyes from—was sorted into Gryffindor. Eventually, when McGonagall reached his father, Frank Longbottom- he was a near spitting image of Neville at this age—he too was sorted into Gryffindor. When it came to Lupin’s turn, she chewed on the side of her lips. It was becoming a nervous tick; she hoped to stop in the future. Amy noticed her attention, asking whether he was a friend in which she confirmed.

 

He was nervous, much more nervous now that he was on his own and all the eyes of the great hall were on him. His body was rigid as he awkwardly turned to sit. His green eyes quickly looked for comfort, bouncing between her, James, and Sirius. The hat barely touched his sandy waves before announcing.

 

“GRYFFINDOR.”

 

They all screamed and cheered; Sirius whooped and whistled as James seemed even more excited than Sirius as he jumped around. Remus was in shock for a moment before a large wolfish grin was revealed; he stumbled as he rushed to Sirius’s side. Both boys are clapping each other’s backs. She caught him looking at her- she gave two big thumbs up before she noticed he shyly followed Sirius's lead and kissed his pinky in her direction before being shaken back into conversation by Sirius.

 

She tucked in, chewing on some fruits as she asked Amy about her family. There were a few more Puffs that joined them: another girl Beth short for Elisabeth, Kensington with a rosy complexion and light-brown hair; and one who swore she didn’t know and was certainly not related to the Muggle royal family in any way. One boy, Lysander King, he was lanky and awkward with his arms- had blonde hair and blue eyes. He seemed to know the best jokes- He had all three of them in tears and had never heard of personal space with the way he’d get so close trying to tell a story. Sirius seemed to glare at him quite a bit, but she just rolled her eyes. As McGonagall passed through the M’s, some names caught her attention- Mary Macdonald, who was once a friend and roommate of Lily’s- still sorted into Gryffindor, the same for a blondish girl, Marlene McKinnon. Changing the annihilation of the McKinnon family was one of her goals; she had only ever seen her and her family in an old Order photo. Sebastian Mulciber- unsurprisingly sorted into Slytherin—still chumming up to Avery as he sat.

 

She zoned out the chatter as McGonagall got to the P’s. Depending on how the next few sortings went, she might have to change which plan she continued. She closed her eyes and listened as she occluded.

 

“Pettigrew, Peter Pettigrew”

 

A short, chubby boy with mousy features lumbered up to the sorting chair. He was nervous, looking around as his foot twitched as he maneuvered to sit on the stool. The boys paid no attention to him, and she hoped it would stay that way. Time slowed to a halt, minutes passed by, tables started to quiet as the hat continued to remain silent. Peter twitched more in the seat, head turning to look at Mcgonagall and then back to the tables. His eyes, she noticed, connected with Avery and Mulciber. After five agonizing minutes, one of the longest hat-stalls she could remember other than her own… He was finally sorted.

 

“SLYTHERIN”

 

Relief flooded through her; she unclenched her fists, nails leaving behind an imprint. Now it no longer mattered how Peter grew up, whether he became a Death Eater or not- he’d never be a Marauder, never hopefully become an Animagus or know of the map, and never ever truly be trusted enough to be anyone’s secret keeper on the light side again. She had needed that variable eliminated off the board, and she had won it. She didn’t really worry about the next sorting; that boy was Gryffindor through and through.

 

“Potter, James Potter.”

“That’s MEEE!” He screamed as he rushed forward. Everyone laughed at his excitement; the poor boy barely sat on the seat for a second, the hat hovering just inches off his head before exclaiming loudly.

 

“GRYFFINDOR!”

 

“YES, I KNEW IT!” He cheered before running straight to the Gryffindor table. The boys picked him up and twirled him around. Laughs and giggles all around, he made a face at her as if to say, “This is the table to be at,” before obnoxiously- loudly kissing his pinky finger in her direction. She couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh, slightly panicking as she realized she might have to obsess religiously on how to get such an...eccentric personality tamed enough for Lily to give him the time of the day. Merlin only knew if it was blind luck that allowed Harry to exist.

 

There were only a few students left; Hermione realized that this was the longest sorting she had ever sat through. There just seemed to be so many more kids than when she grew up- it saddened her to know just how devastating the first war really was.

 

“Snape, Severus Snape.”

 

He was stoic and calm as he walked to the hat, Lily nervously tracked his every move, Hermione mimicking her. She overheard some remarks about his appearance- most negative, as she winced. This was her wild card, but arguably one of the most important linchpins in the coming war. She had struggled to crack the pride and desperate insecurities that Severus had; she knew she was working against something much stronger than she was used to. Physical reminders often lingered and dug deeper than many words could.

 

“SLYTHERIN.”

 

She closed her eyes again, disappointed. The Slytherins cheered politely as they welcomed him- she’d be keeping an eye on how they treated him once they confirmed his blood status. She had pushed the same desire for knowledge in him as she had in Lily, trying to guide him to focus on knowledge instead of power. To disregard a family history - a family that had tossed him and his mother away—and focus on the one he had made with them. Maybe some things were too important to change. She knew she’d have to work hard so the animosity between him and the boys didn’t spiral out of control. At least this time, Lily might be spared some emotional grief. A Muggle-born association, although heavily frowned on in Slytherin, was slightly more acceptable when that Muggle-born was in a more prestigious house like Ravenclaw rather than Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. She could work with this. She refocused on the group in front of her, picking up a pudding she ruminated. This week had been successful; now she wondered if the biggest player would take the bait.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

She didn’t have to wait long; they were guided out of the hall and into the basement. She calculated how much time she’d need to get to each class- it would take a bit longer, but at least they were close to the kitchens. She’d have more opportunities to grab a late night snack after studying this way. As their prefect explained how to access the common room- a cute little rhythm that they had to bang on the barrels—McGonagall appeared. She spoke quietly into the prefect’s ear before nodding in her direction. She told her new housemates that it looked like she’d have to catch up with them later as she made her way over to McGonagall.

 

“It seems like you already know what I’ve been asked to do.” Her sharp eyebrow lifted in question.

“Yes, I think I might.” she smirked.

She followed McGonagall as they chatted on the way to Dumbledore’s office, nearing the gargoyle. McGonagall stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I just wanted to say, that although you were not sorted into my house, I am proud all the same. I am excited to see where your future goes, dear. I’ve also heard that lemon drops are quite a treat.” She retreated, heading off into the hall behind them.

 

Hermione prepared herself; she occluded more tightly, closing her eyes and visualizing her space. At first she had leaned toward picking a library to sort all of her thoughts, but as she worked on building it, she understood what she’d be facing. She’d be trying to keep out two of the most powerful Legilimens known in modern times. She had stressed over what to use until it came to her, a memory. The small space in Hyde Park where she had met Sirius.

 

Squaring her shoulders, she took a step forward, facing the gargoyle before clearly voicing the password.

 

“Lemon Drops.”

 

With a shuddering rumble, it rolled out of her way, revealing the path forward. She made her way up the ivory stone stairs, running her hand along the spiraling walls- before she could knock on the door at the top, Dumbledore’s voice carried across.

“Come in, I’ve been most excited to meet you once more.”

She opened the door and took a look around; it was just as gorgeous as she last remembered. Walls covered in shelves- filled with books and magical trinkets that twirled and spun. His grand white stone desk, intricately hand-carved stacked with books and quills, sat in front of the second balcony. It was decorated with a large globe and chairs. Off to the side sat Fawkes and his perch. Dumbledore was there waiting, standing next to him, hands crossed at his waist. Fawkes, noticing her-trilled,-astounding them both once more by flying off his perch and landing on her shoulder. He leaned down, rubbing his cheek against her before flying back.

 

Her eyes wide, shock across her face as she looked at an equally stupefied Dumbledore. Even the portraits of previous headmasters looked on just as flabbergasted.

 

“Come, we have much to discuss. Would you like a Lemon Drop?”

“No thank you. I think that was all the jolt to my system that I need.”

Dumbledore laughed, clapping before he turned to take a seat at his desk. He gestured to the chair located in front of it. She took a seat and waited for him to start, mind spinning with the possible outcomes; she knew this would be a challenge. He was one of the most intelligent wizards she had ever known- the soft twittering of Fawkes as he preened filled the silence.

 

“I think you understand why I asked to see you today. I have been skeptical and hesitant of reaching out. I hope you can understand the times we are in and why it would be most prudent to exercise a bit of caution- Even here, where you never know who might be listening in. Yet Fawkes’s reaction before your visit and now has reassured me that I will be able to continue on in trust. Phoenixes are excellent judges of character.”

 

“No, I can understand. I, too, like things in ORDER, before I take such a leap.” she replied slowly, enunciating each word clearly.

 

Dumbledore leaned back, his face pensive as he intertwined his hands once more.

 

“Excuse an old man for his ignorance, but my experience and knowledge is that ones, as young as yourself do not seem to be very... ordered. Usually eleven-year-olds are not too burdened by ordered expectation.”

“What is age in comparison to all of time?” She looked into his eyes, his thick grey brows lifting.

 

“Ah yes, but time is a very cyclical thing; it tends to loop and match in my opinion. There are stories of those who tried to tempt changing it.” he questioned.

 

“Professor, I have read from some historians that there can be alternate paths, and while rare, I’m sure the knowledge they’ve uncovered on this topic can surprise you."She answered.

 

“Ah yes, you did mention you were a fan of historical figures. I can only guess, the stories you’re interested in are more dystopian than I might enjoy.” He inquired.

 

“Certainly not loving bedtime stories - a total collapse of order, of whole families, cities, and governments-even cherished figures.” She pressed.

 

His face seemed to pale at this, the twinkle in his eye dimming.

“I see... I’m sure without much structure, in these stories there were dark times.”

 

“Yes, the darkest, the one that swallowed the light. Enough for those who were left behind to search for valuables, things so important that they would be able to afford a chance at brightening their futures.”

 

“Valuables? Did they need to own more than one?” he whispered.

“Well in one story, they needed at least seven, but I’ve seen in the transcripts from the earlier publication, that the author had written in five.” she answered solemnly.

 

“Merlin. And you, having read this publication, know which jewels are the most prudent to obtain?”

“Yes, and from the timeline of the story, not only are they the most prudent, but they are also the most important to acquire early. You see, we can’t allow the author to consider adding more.” She answered back, her voice soft but steady.

“I am remiss; I forgot to congratulate you on your sorting. Hufflepuff is a splendid house, yet I don’t find myself seeing you in yellow and black, more blue and bronze after our conversation here. "He interjected.

 

“Ah, actually, in the past, you know, growing up, I was decked out quite heavily in red and gold, but I find here that yellow and black is more of a complement to my coloring under such magical lighting.” she smiled while answering.

“Such an enigma all around, dare I ask why you feel that way?”

 

“Meles Meles is the scientific name for the badger. Badgers are one of the few animals that can successfully fight and kill venomous snakes. They are often overlooked, which allows them to be underestimated if they choose to be- they are known to survive bites that have killed much larger animals. They're ferocious as they flush snakes out of their hiding places, fighting them relentlessly. How could an animal like that not compliment me? It’s very poetic.” She gave him a vicious grin - a mischievous twinkle in her golden eyes.

Dumbledore laughed, leaning forward, a small smile now on his face as some of his coloring returned.

“Ah yes, now that you put it that way, it seems to be a very fitting match indeed.”

The clock resting in the corner of the room next to the window chimed, showing that it was getting near curfew.

“I fear the hour grows late; would you be able to show me a bit of the stories you’ve studied, my dear?”

Wiggling in her seat, she took a deep breath, clasping her hands together in her lap, she slowly opened her eyes, golden and clearer than before, and stared directly into his blue ones.

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

Dumbledore looked around, impressed with the occlumency Hermione was capable of- He was in a Muggle park, shaded by tall trees; he could almost feel the warmth of the sun on his skin and smell the fragrance of the wildflowers that were sprinkled in between the blades of grass. He could feel the crunch of the grass beneath his feet as he allowed his magic to guide him. Walking further into the denser part of the park, there was a small clearing. In the middle of it was a massive chestnut tree, towering over the section. Its branches were full of lush, vibrant green leaves as they swayed in the wind. He could feel the sensation of emotions all around him, but they blended into the sky, the leaves, the grass, the flowers-even he was incapable of grasping on to their direction. He stepped forward, eyes drawn to a small journal resting at the base of the tree. There was a compulsion to pick it up; leaning down, he grasped the journal. He could feel the grooves in the leather; it was soft and well cared for. He observed,-It was unnamed, with no discernible markings., Pulling back the cover, his mind was flooded with a series of images. Her first sorting, a collection of years and interactions, of death and starvation, of struggle and horror- her death, Fawkes's actions, the sensation of her rebirth, the changes she had made.

 

Yet the one word, tied with a collection of images, the last to come forward- gripped his heart the most.

 

Horcrux.

Chapter 8: Shine a Light

Summary:

All flowers need light, even the ones you didn't know about

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

 

note: saw a lot of confusion in the comments- For first year only there will be multi-house classes, Transfiguration, herbology and Defense against the Dark Arts

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"Personal excellence can be achieved by a visionary goal, through planning, dedicated execution, and total follow-through.” - Gerald R. Ford

---

 

September 1st, 1971- Hogwarts (“The Boys”)

 

 

The welcome celebration carried over from the great hall- the merriment followed them all the way up into the Gryffindor common room, where light music played as older students passed out drinks and snacks. Sirius stared in awe as he followed behind James and Remus. That same warm feeling that seemed to settle into his chest whenever he was around Hermione lived in the very air here. Red and gold tapestries hung on the walls, covered in portraits of Gryffindors of Olde, embroidered banners depicting lions in various forms accented the higher parts of the stone walls. Large stained glass windows allowed the delicate rays of moonlight to shine through, painting the rugged floors in intricate patterns. Antique red and brown furniture grouped together and draped in soft blankets beckoned the occupants to come together, to rest their weary bodies and bask in the warmth of the fire. Candles and lanterns flickered, adding to the soft ambiance of the room. It was so different from the harsh lines and cold halls of Grimmauld Place, or the stifling and desolate Black Manor. - He didn’t know that a place could feel like this. The boys split up- determined to explore the entirety of the common room. Sirius, slightly melancholy over Hermione’s sorting, tried to understand the feeling of relief he got when he had quietly inquired with a 7th year named Fabian earlier at dinner- He was tall with bright red hair, an abundance of freckles, and blue eyes—about what classes Gryffindor shared with other houses. He had clenched his jaw in disgust to learn it was mostly with Slytherin, with the exception of Transfiguration, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, but knowing he’d still see her throughout the day helped ease his emotions.

 

Sirius couldn’t help but touch the rough fabrics of the larger couches, the smooth leather of the books stacked around the rooms desks, the cool metallic of the frame holding a large globe- even the slick paneling of wood that covered some of the stone walls. He couldn’t help but think that he had chosen well. Eventually he had gravitated toward some old quidditch photos on a mantel, a replica of the snitch that had won them the cup shining in the firelight.

James’s black, bushy hair peeked into his peripheral- they stood together for a moment, both taking in the glory of Gryffindor past.

“It’s bloody gorgeous, isn’t it, mate? That’s going to be us winning the Quidditch Cup one day.”

“Yeah, yeah, it is.” Sirius let out.

“Remus has gone up to check out the rooms. I took a peek earlier; it looks like not only are we housemates, we’re rooming together too. This is turning out to be one of the best days ever.”

“Blegh, don’t get all puffy on me; I think I can only handle one puff as a friend.”

James laughed. It was hearty and full of life- it warmed Sirius.

“Yeah. Yeah, we should’a known she’d be a puff. Come on, mate, I’ve got some ideas to show you on a few pranks we could do.”

They made their way up the stairs to a circled room—only three beds arranged along the walls, their massive oak frames cloaked with Gryffindor drapes and layered in red and gold sheets- their trunks already placed at the foot of each bed. Sirius noticed Remus was already laid up, pillows bunched around him as he read what looked like one of the course books. What a swot- he thought. James pulled out a small journal and gathered the boys around- they planned and plotted late into the night. Sirius finally understood why he heard some others call it home with such affection.

 

 

September 2nd, 1971 Laurent Estate- Loire Valley, France 7am

 

Arcturus stood proudly in the entry parlor of Laurent Estate- it was a French estate nestled in the rolling vineyards along the La Loire River. No less ostentatious or grand than some of the magical properties owned by the Black family. Although smaller in size than Château de Sully-sur-Loire, it was filled with a thriving family- one that may not receive him, he feared. His eyes scanned the maintained grounds, ornate hedge patterns, flowers, and fields of grassy hills that morphed into a bustling vineyard. He pondered what Muggle machines tilled away- he had not personally stepped into a Muggle town in decades, let alone a Muggle home. He had owled ahead, first receiving a howler with a decidedly passionate French rant that ended with an explosive “Go fuck yourself,” before receiving a very curt acceptance letter. He did have to pull some strings at the ministry in order to get an expedited portkey- but the knowledge he sought was worth it, he felt.

 

He heard the soft clacking of heels walking down the hallway; as they grew louder, he rolled his shoulders and smoothed out his robes. The parlor door opened, revealing an older beauty. She was short, with feminine features- heart-shaped face, plump lips, gentle eyes, long wavy black hair kissed with silver strands, and pale skin. She was dressed in an elegant square-necked blue chiffon dress with a leg slit. His cousin had done well in France, it seemed.

 

“Il est prêt à vous recevoir”- her sultry voice coo’d

“Merci, veuillez me guider.” - he replied.

 

She turned and led him down spacious halls to a wing that held a grand study. She beckoned him in, closing the door once he crossed the threshold and leaving the men alone. Standing in the middle of towering shelves filled with books, near a small serving station, was a tall older man- His black hair peppered with greys just like his own, his wide shoulders and strong arms accented by a finely tailored white shirt- he was wearing black slacks and boots as he poured two glasses of whiskey.

 

“Cousin” - Arcturus called.

“I am no cousin of yours, Phineas Black ensured it.” - The man's deep rumbling voice vibrated off the walls of the study.

He turned his icy grey eyes to silver blue.

 

He walked forward once closer to Arcturus; he offered the second glass of whiskey, eyes narrowed as he waited for his response. Arcturus reached and grabbed the glass, both men silent in the exchange. The man gestured to the small sitting area near a large arched window, Arcturus took the seat closest to the door as the man leaned back into his chair, arms crossed at his waist. He raised his glass and took a large swing before placing it down on the glass side table. He just glared at Arcturus silently, waiting for the other man to start.

 

“Marius- I must thank you for allowing me to be here today. I know our history is quite violate-” Arcturus tried to lead with before being cut off.

 

“Being magically disowned for being a squib- blasted off the family tree and abandoned in a city center in another country with the threat of death if I tried to return at the tender age of 5- with only a few pounds to my name.. Yes violate indeed. I have not heard from anyone in the Black family for over 46 years, so tell me why you have come demanding I speak now. "Marius growled as he clenched his hands into fists.

 

Arcturus took a large gulp of his whiskey, clenching his jaw at the bite, before setting it down on the table as well.

“I have come to inquire how you have fared. New information has come to light, and I am trying to make sense of contradicting information. Trying to reconcile the actions of the previous Black Patriarchs. I will not waste any of your time, for I understand I am not welcome here- Have you had any children, and if so, were they magical?”

 

“Espèce de salaud, tu menaces mes enfants?” Marius hissed, jumping up.

“Non, jamais, vous avez déjà payé le prix. Je ne souhaite aucun mal à vous ou aux vôtres.” Arcturus rose up as well, slowly trying to calm the man- the quick temper of the Black family still present in him. Both men tense, slowly sat once more, Arcturus silent and pensive as he pondered the best way to continue.

 

“There was a report that came out; it-it called into question our family motto and the teachings of wizards past. That blood purity was tainting our line, crippling it. I come now seeking only information and a bit of your time.”

 

Marius picked up his whiskey, polishing off the rest before harshly setting down his glass once more.

 

“I was blessed with a son and two daughters. My son and eldest daughter are non-magical, my youngest was a witch. Thankfully, I was aware of what it was- she attended Beauxbatons. I have seven grandchildren between my three children- 5 are magical, and one is even a metamorphmagus.”

 

Arcturus paled, there were so many children, so many magical. A Metamorphmagus had not been seen in the Black line for nearly 150 years; the trait was thought to have been lost completely. Marius allowed Arcturus to contemplate his words, getting up, he returned to stand at his desk in the middle of the study, his back to Arcturus as he lightly knocked on the wood.

 

“I would like you to leave now and bother my family no more- you have what you have come for. I will never be a Black, my children will never be Blacks, nor any further descendant of mine. I have made my own legacy magical and Muggle, as a Laurent.”

Arcturus noticed the family banner hanging above the man on the back wall; the house words “Force et honneur” weighed down upon him. He finished his drink, standing up, he brushed his robes before replying.

 

“Thank you, I will honor your wishes- I will see myself out.”

 

September 2nd, 1971- Hermione 5:30 am

 

She groaned as she heard her wand vibrate on her side table, tossing and turning a bit more before she rolled over and silenced it- normally she was a morning person, but it had been a very stressful and long day back. Slowly reaching up to rub her eyes, she opened them to stare at her canopy. The soft snores of her roommates, Beth and Amy, filled the silence. Above her was a replica of the morning sky; soft golden rays that had begun to break through the thick clouds helped revitalize her, pushing the heavy hold of her pre-caffeinated haze. She had charmed it, something she learned on the run with Harry and Ron. It had helped drive away the crushing despair and burning hunger on many cold nights; it was something she had agonized over as she grew up, still unable to do the meticulous charm work required without a wand and unsure whether she should introduce magic to her family before their letters. It had been an emotional crutch of sorts and one of the first things she did after returning late from her meeting with Dumbledore. The other girls had gushed and begged, so she happily charmed their beds as well- the magical exhaustion helped lull her to sleep.

She silenced her steps as she rolled out of bed, using a quick charm to make her sheets. She walked around and opened her trunk, pulling out a t-shirt, shorts, and her sneakers. She headed to the bathroom to get ready for her morning run. She’d planned to have a good 30 minutes before she needed to come back and get ready for breakfast. As she made her way down into the common room, she took in the details she had not been able to last night.

Shades of browns, beiges, and greens- small pops of color throughout the room in the forms of full plants, of willowing vines dangling from clay pots hung high, strings adorned with dried herbs hung from pillar to pillar, tiny pockets of bookshelves built into the very walls were framed with thick wooden sides—hand- carved designs of plants added an earthly charm. Circular-patterned rugs covered the beige stone floor, thickly padded couches and chairs were situated throughout. Above the large fireplace rested a flattering picture of Helga Hufflepuff, holding a very familiar cup. Hermione winced a bit, thinking of how Riddle had tainted something equivalent to a national treasure. The leather bag at her side vibrated- she stopped and pulled out the charmed journal she’d made, eagerly opening it to the shining page. She smiled as she read the well wishes and congratulations from her mother and father, even Petunia’s cheeky reply about how this finally explained the rumpled mess she left her bed in sometimes. Lily’s reply was decidedly less warm, but at least she had replied to her congratulations and well wishes. She penned a few more replies before putting it back into her bag and making her way out of the common room for a morning run.

__

 

She checked her watch- 6:15am, just in time to get ready before breakfast. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she smiled and greeted Amy, who was finishing up the final touches on her uniform. She gathered her things and headed for the bathroom- After her shower, she dressed and charmed her hair into more manageable waves. She felt guilty for always thinking poorly of girls like Lavender and Pavarti, seemingly obsessed with their looks and new charms now that she intended to use them more often. She had studied Riddle and other leaders extensively- they always ensured they looked immaculate, approachable, charming. Using every biological advantage they had to sway public perception. She knew from her studies on religion that even Lucifer, had been known as “perfect in beauty” before his fall. So, she took her time ensuring that her auburn curls were ordered, soft, and shining- makeup light but just enough to soften her features. She gazed at the reflection looking back at her. Soft, pretty, harmless-it reminded her so much of the Yule Ball during the tournament, the first time that she felt like she was beautiful. As she left the bathroom, she noticed that Amy and Beth were chatting casually, waiting near the door for her.

 

“There you are; we didn’t want to head down without you.”

“Thank you for waiting on me. Let’s go- hopefully we won’t get lost.” She giggled as she rushed forward to take both girls arms, leading them down and out of the common room. They were able to meet up with a few others as they made their way to breakfast. Amy was worrying over the first class of the day; McGonagall had seemed so intimidating to her that she feared she might not be able to focus- Beth jumped in to agree. Beth gushed over their head of house, Pomona Sprout- she was a squatty woman shining with an essence that drew you in, robes usually rumpled and covered in some sort of earth, her brown curly hair, just starting to grey usually adorned with one flower or another, sat squished underneath a pointed hat, her cheeks rosy, her eyes lined with wrinkles gained over the years from the smiles she always pointed in a student's direction. She had even waited for Hermione to return from her visit with Dumbledore, assuring her that if she ever needed anything-the door to her greenhouse office would be open.

 

Lysander walked further ahead with another first year that was sorted later in the evening, a Gregory Macmillion- he was sort of a braggart. Hermione remembered biting her tongue and willing her eyes to stay in place from the fierce desire to roll them as he droned on and on about some properties his family had. He had blonde hair and light green eyes, so similar to his future son Ernie. She guessed apples didn’t fall too far from the tree even in the magical world. She could hear them arguing aggressively about the newest gobstones they’d used last night and whether or not they were actually better than the set released before.

 

When they arrived at the great hall and settled into their table, Hermione looked around. They were one of the first groups to make it to breakfast this morning; there were a scant few Gryffindors, none of her boys, only one Slytherin that looked older eating some porridge alone. She could see that Lily had made it as well. She waved, Lily, caught off guard, paused her conversation and waved back. She was surrounded by fellow eagles- four other firsties. To her left was Donna Shackle, a lovely girl with dark chocolate skin and a blinding smile; she had tight black curls that reached her shoulders. To her right was a girl named Marlene Price; she had some of the same coloring as Lily, except she had more olive tones and had lighter red hair. Carlotta Meloni sat with her back to Hermione. She had long, pin-straight black hair and brown eyes; she liked to braid small pieces as she talked. Shelley Mups was a stockier girl, with stunning copperish brown hair, pale skin, and hazel eyes- she was waving their schedule in the air quite wildly.

Hermione scanned her memories, and thankfully none of the names seemed familiar, and certainly none that were connected to Death Eaters or their sympathizers.

 

She was drawn back to the conversation when Gregory nudged her shoulder.

“So whose claw is that you’re staring at?”

“Oh, that’s her sister, Lily.” Amy answered as she picked at the fruit on her plate- Beth kindly filled Hermione a plate with a variety of food after noticing that she was distracted. Handing it over to her, Hermione thanked her before adding to what Amy said.

“Yes, Amy’s right, that’s Lily, my twin sister. I’ve got another sister named Petunia, older than us both, but she’s non-magical.”

“Oh, are you a half-blood?” Gregory asked.

Hermione narrowed her eyes in his direction, looking for any negative tells he might give off.

“Oh, no, I’m Muggle-born, or is that an issue here?” She calmly said in a sweet tone before giving him a toothy smile. The other girls looked up, and even Lysander stopped, looking at Gregory curiously.

 

He rushed to put his hand up in surrender, shaking his head back and forth.

“NO- I mean no, no issue at all. I was just curious.”

“Wait, Lily, Petunia? Like the flowers? How’d they come up with Hermione?” Lysander asked as he leaned over Gregory to look at her face- Greg grimaced as he fought to put some space between them.

“Yes, my mother’s name is Rose. I guess my parents wanted to carry on the flower names if they ever had girls. ‘Peonia Lactiflora,’ or commonly referred to as a Hermione peony, is where they got the inspiration- Not as on the nose as Lily or Petunia, but still a flower all the same. Papa really loves to call us all his flowers.”

“Awww, that’s actually adorable.” Beth cooed while Amy nodded along.

“Bit of a mouthful if you ask me.” Gregory let out, looking down at his plate before taking a bite of his muffin.

 

“Yeah-well mate, good thing no one actually asked you. Good morning, princess! Ladiessss.” The gruff voice of Sirius snarked behind Hermione. She turned around quickly in her seat, smiling as she saw the boys grouped together. The girls blushed and giggled while Greg pouted and Lysander struggled to hold in his laugh.

 

“Sirius! Good morning, James. Remus, good to see you too!”

“Hope you all don’t mind if we steal little ol’ Hermione here for a bit.” James questioned. Remus was quiet and looking very peaky off to the side of James. She slowly scanned him; he was a bit hunched as well, flinching when a voice got too loud.

 

“No, no, take her; we just need her back before Transfiguration, please.” Amy snarked back.

“What am I? Child being traded between split parents?”

“Yes, now my ministry-mandated schedule says I get the badger cub - right about now.” James retorted as he checked an imaginary schedule.

“So up, up, come on, princess, you don’t want to get the other puffs in trouble with the ministry; really nasty business it is. Heard it’s straight to Azkaban.” Sirius held out his hand to help her out of her seat.

 

This got a chuckle out of everyone. Hermione took his hand to get up, making sure to grab her bag and the plate Beth made before waving goodbye to the rest. They walked to the Gryffindor table, settling in with James and Remus on one side Hermione and Sirius on the other.

“So, I've got a bone to pick with you,, Badger.” James stated sternly as he picked up some sausage and then eggs.

Hermione just hmm’d as she made a plate for Sirius, acting on autopilot, grabbing lightly seared ham, two poached eggs with a side of buttered white toast, before pushing the jug of orange juice in his direction. It was what he’d always preferred to eat for breakfast in the past. She paused as she noticed his shocked gaze once she had placed the plate in front of him.

 

“Well I’ll be, how’d you know?”

“Hmm, a posh boy like you would like something this light, I bet.”

Remus snorted his milk, rushing to wipe his face and nose, he gasped out.

“Warn a bloke next time.”

“ANYWAY- as I was saying, I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Mia. I think I explicitly said you should pick Gryffindor. It’s majestic, it's fearsome, it has me- and how could anything top that?” James glared in her direction, pointing his fork for added effect.

She just deadpanned as she picked up a piece of toast.

 

“Yes, you know what? I must have been out of my mind.”

“It’s okay, princess; as a Black, I understand bouts of madness myself.” Sirius smirked as he dug into his breakfast.

“Mia?” Remus questioned James.

“Well yeah- He put his hands up- That Greg bloke, while a massive tosser, might have been a teensy tiny bit correct, Hermione is a bit of a mouthful, and Mia just rolls off the tongue.”

 

“HEY what is with everyone having a problem with my name!” Hermione huffed.

“It is a bit... unique.” Remus tried to save James.

“Please, please, please, Mia is lovely, maybe even French! See, classy too.” James begged, widening his eyes to try to come off as pitiful as possible.

 

“Plus it’s not even as over the top as ‘Princess’- calm, cool, casual.”

“Ugh fine, but this is where I draw the line. No more nicknames after this, Jamie. Sorry, Rem, Siri, you’ve been cut off. ”She demanded.

 

“You know what? I’ll allow it. Just for you, Mia.” James pondered before smiling; both Sirius and Remus nodded along in acceptance.

“I need to run this by you, so I think we should do something during dinner at the end of the week, you know, to really kick off our pranking legacies—” James argued while the rest occasionally added in with idea’s of their own.They chatted for a while about what classes they thought would be the best. Remus showed Hermione a few history books he was interested in, and she rushed to pull out a defense book she’d been paging through.

 

Their conversation was interrupted by a flutter of wings; there was a plethora of owls delivering packages, the prophet, and well wishes. There was one large Eurasian owl that stood out amongst the rest- It was larger than the others its prominent build and dark feathers contrasted harshly against the sea of muted browns and patterns, its dark orange eyes framed by prominent ear tufts gave it a forbidding expression. But what caught the majority of the students eyes was the bright red letter clasped tightly between its massive claws.

 

Sirius paled as he finally looked up to see what had caught everyone’s attention- he felt Hermione sliding her hand into his, squeezing as it got closer and closer.

 

“It's Oriel...” Sirius squeaked out.

 

The owl gracefully landed in the opening on the table in front of Sirius, James, and Remus, queasy as they eyed the now smoking red envelope. Hermione sat silently, looking at Sirius’s uneasy expression.

 

“I figured they wouldn’t be too happy with my sorting... bloody hell... You know what? Let's just get it over with. I don’t think I’d make it into the hall anyway.”

She pulled her wand.

 

Sirius reached over and gave Oriel a piece of bacon for brushing against the smoking red envelope. The voices of the hall seemed to dim as curious students waited in anticipation to hear what the howler said. Narcissa, who had joined the hall just before the letter arrived, had a knowing look on her face.

 

As soon as his finger pulled away, the letter burst open, and the loud screeching voice of Walburga began to rant.

 

“SIRIUS ORION BLACK- HOW DARE YOU, THE HEIR TO THE BLACK NAME BE SORTED INTO THAT DISGUSTING HOUSE FILLED WITH NOTHING BUT BLOOD-TRAITORS AND UNDESIRABLES! I’VE TOLD YOU, I’VE WARNED YOU- YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS! YOU ABSOLUTELY WORTHLESS DISGRACE, IS THERE NOTHING YOU CAN DO RIGHT??- I SHOULD HAVE STRANGLED YOU THE MOMENT YOU -”

 

“ENOUGH!”

 

Hermione growled out, her ivory-colored wand pointing at the howler. She was standing up, breathing heavily as her golden eyes burned, auburn curls crackling with magic. It was silenced twitching in the air, she flicked her wand muffling the surprised shock and voices around them. She could see Sirius was struggling not to cry, he was just a boy. She wouldn’t tolerate another moment of this- she leaned down just enough to whisper in his ear, her wand still pointed at the howler.

“Sirius, it’s okay, I promise, just tell me two things- are you okay? And do you want to give that ghoul a taste of her own medicine?”

He nodded, closing his eyes and trying to calm down.

 

“Definitely.”

 

Hermione took her hand and squeezed his shoulder before whispering, her wand arching in violent slashes and jabs. The howler reanimated, folding back into the pristine letter as it floated to her outstretched hand. She ripped it from the air, whispering as she brought it to her lips for a kiss. She pulled it back after kissing it, and the envelope floated up near the roof before zooming off. With another flick of her wrist, she canceled the Muffliato, huffing and muttering things like ‘What a vile, 'wretched woman!’ before digging back into her breakfast.

All three boys just sat with their eyes wide and mouths open as they struggled to speak. The students around the hall instantly conversed together, trying to figure out what they had seen. The other puffs sending her questioning looks and gestures. Lily pale and shaking her head vigorously as she tried to explain to the other Ravenclaws.

 

“That was bloody brilliant, princess.”

“Can you even DO that???”

“What did you DO?” Remus stuttered out last.

 

This was something she had obsessed over creating after receiving so many howlers and hexed mail during the Triwizard Tournament, all guilt and caution gone, especially after her hands were injured. It had caused her to score 3 points lower than normal on a charms exam. She passed the chocolate pudding toward Remus; she had figured out the full moon was in 3 more days by her earlier observation. She was quiet for a moment before she nonchalantly leaned forward- the boys followed her move, heads close together over the table, before she explained.

 

“I’ve read about Howlers and the magic behind them, so I just reversed the charm work and modified a point-me-charm to send it back to the author. It’ll open, follow them, and play on repeat- any time someone tries to destroy it, it’ll multiply. It’s not forever, but it will last at least 4 hours. The best part is if they try to figure it out, it’ll just look like a faulty base charm. An irritatingly rare manufacturing defect.” -She smiled vindictively before taking a healthy bite of sausage.

 

“What—how?—Mia, you’re a bloody genius!” James exclaimed.

 

Sirius just sat in silence, eyes twinkling in wonder, expression of pure adoration. He didn’t stop his silent worship until they left the hall.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

She was able to brush off most questions as they made their way to transfiguration. Dumbledore, in Dumbledore fashion, had just given her a small clap and eyebrow raise just before exiting the hall-she hoped in some twisted fashion that Walburga made a scene at whatever store she purchased it from in the off chance it would make the Evening Prophet. Although she did feel a bit guilty for the shop workers if it did actually happen. As they neared the door to the transfiguration classroom, she saw Lily and Snape waiting.

Lily rushed forward, leaving him to shuffle awkwardly near the wall, pushing Remus out of the way to pull her to the side- He made a face along with James and Sirius. She turned, muttering a quick but insincere ‘Sorry’ before rounding on Hermione.

 

“What did you DO?”

“I just helped a friend with something I learned.”

“Don’t get smart with me; gosh, it's only our first day of classes! What if you get in trouble? Do you know how bad that’ll look?” She was spiraling quickly, starting to pace as she pulled her hair. Once she’d gone back and forth at least three times, she stopped and put her hands on her hips.

 

“What do you have to say for yourself? Hmmmm?” She tapped her foot; it was similar to what their mother did sometimes. It made her smile, although that ruffled Lily even more.

 

“I think my friends are worth the non-existent trouble you’re imagining or any real trouble that might come my way.” she said as she looked down and picked at her nails.

 

“Wait, you know I’m not saying you shouldn’t stick up for your friends-” she tried to backtrack now that there was a bit of a crowd forming.

 

“Well, it kind of sounds like that, Lily- come one enough of this, its going to make us late, and that WILL have consequences.” she said with her eyebrows raised, her hands gesturing to move into the classroom. Lily huffed and turned back, grabbing Snape’s hand and pulling him into the class. The boys waited, unimpressed, before following her.

 

A familiar grey-striped tabby cat sat on the large desk at the front. Students milled around before finding their seats; Lily and Snape headed to the front. Amy and Beth pulled her away from the boys to a cluster of desks at the front off to the side of them. Remus joined them, taking a seat next to Hermione. They found that they both liked to sit in the front. James and Sirius took seats more toward the back. They got out their books and supplies and waited. Once the majority of the students settled and the clock chimed for 9am, the grey tabby jumped from the desk and transformed into McGonagall. She stood still, allowing the excitement and shock to settle down before starting.

 

“Welcome, it is good to see so many of you prepared. My name is Professor McGonagall, and today we will be learning some introductory information about Transfiguration, and then we will have a practical, where you will attempt to transfigure a match into a needle. Please open your texts to chapter 1, page 15. ”

 

She waved her wand, several small boxes floated from her desk and gently rested in front of each individual student, waiting for the page turning to stop before she began again.

 

“Transfiguration is a branch of magic that focuses on the alteration of the form or appearance of an object, animal, or person- this is done by changing the molecular structure. This will be a challenging class for most, as transfiguration is a very systematic and exact magical discipline. Now can anyone tell me what types or branches transfiguration has-”

 

It was a slow, confident gesture, how she raised her hand. She didn’t want to come across as too eager. Hers was the first hand up; others followed a while after.

 

“Ah, yes, Miss Hermione Evans.”

 

“The branches of transfiguration in descending order of difficulty are known as Transformation or also called Transubstantial Transfiguration, Untransformation, Vanishment and Conjuration. There are even sub-branches like Switching, Trans-Species Transformation, and Human Transfiguration, also something considered the pinnacle of Transfiguration- the Animagus Transformation. Something I think you just showed us today,” she spoke softly with a soothing cadence.

Professor McGonagall gave a rare smirk.

 

“Yes, you are correct, 5 points to Hufflepuff.”

 

Mcgonagall turned her back, wand raised. She flicked it toward the blackboards behind her; the branches of transfiguration were being written down by charmed chalk.

 

“Transfiguration can change one object into an entirely different object, change a living creature into an entirely different species as well as change inanimate objects into living creatures and vice versa- we can also change transfigured items back into their original form. Additionally, we can conjure things out of thin air, making things vanish into thin air and making two things switch places. Just as Emeric Switch states in your texts, “The Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration,” it is important to make firm and decisive wand movements- Do not wiggle or twirl your wand unnecessarily, or you will most certainly be unsuccessful.” Quills scratched against parchment as the students rushed to document her words.

 

“Can anyone tell me the name of the laws or principles that guide transfiguration?” Her stern gaze swept across the class, waiting a moment before calling on Hermione once more.

 

“Go ahead, Miss Hermione Evans- it seems you’ve read ahead.”

 

“It is called Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration- there are several rules or laws that govern it. They are as follows. Food cannot be created from nothing; only pre-existing food can be summoned, teleported, enlarged, or even multiplied, but it cannot be made from thin air. Generally, the types of food that can be conjured are things like sauces, wines, or potable water- furthermore creatures can be conjured. You cannot conjure wands, real money, or potion ingredients.”

 

“Correct again, 5 points to Hufflepuff.”

 

Once again the rules started to write on the blackboard behind them. McGonagall had them read the introductory mathematical factors- the intended transformation (t) which was directly influenced by body weight (a), viciousness (v), wand power (w), concentration (c) and a fifth variable (z)—before taking a moment to allow questions to be asked. Once done, she tapped her wand on her hand, and the boxes in front of them opened, revealing a large collection of matches.

 

“Now is the time for your first practical attempt; here you will be trying to transfigure the matchsticks into needles. Remember your formulas and to have firm, decisive wand motions- I will be coming around to check on your progress, Please begin.”

 

Hermione put away her transfiguration book and pulled out a collection of papers she’d acquired from the ministry detailing the Animagus Process and a small book titled ‘Everton’s Guide to Avoiding Animal Ascendancy.’ She flicked her wand- Remus choked next to her as he let out a shuttering ‘blimey’- she had transfigured all of the matches into perfect needles.

 

It took a while before McGonagall made her way around the classroom; several students hadn’t progressed. There were a few, like James Potter and Sirius Black, that had gotten partial transfigurations, although their colors were still off, decidedly needles that were more wood than metal. Lily Evans also looked promising; she’d gotten the shape of the needle down. As she stopped in front of Remus Lupin, she admired his attempt; it was just slightly behind James and Sirius. A shining reflection caught her eye; there in Hermione’s box were hundreds of perfectly transfigured needles. She picked one out of the box; it was the perfect weight, smooth and unblemished metal. She tested the tip- nearly piercing her finger. When she looked back down, Hermione was looking into her eyes.

 

“Marvelous, simply marvelous. 10 points to Hufflepuff.” her eyes shining as she once again picked up the needle to examine it.

 

Hermione swore she heard Lily gritting her teeth.

Notes:

Translations (translator so don't get mad):

“Il est prêt à vous recevoir” - He is ready to receive you
"Merci, veuillez me guider."- thank you, please guide me
"Espèce de salaud, tu menaces mes enfants?"- You bastard, you're threatening my children
"Non, jamais, vous avez déjà payé le prix. Je ne souhaite aucun mal à vous ou aux vôtres."-No, never, you have already paid the price. I wish no harm to you or yours.

Chapter 9: Another Brick in The Wall

Summary:

Every Flower needs nurturing to grow

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

---

“It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.” ― Confucius

---

September 10th, 1971 Hogwarts

 

Hermione was jotting down her latest charms assignment; she had already met the required 3 feet and decided to add an extra two- Flitwick always loved it in the past when she was able to link the base charm similarities. She had been steadily racking up the house points, pushing in practicals, and decimating exams- it had been a bit boring, to be honest; this was only first-year material. She had done better with flying this time around, but Lily absolutely shined in the air- it looked like Harry’s natural ability came from both sides of the family. She glanced over to Remus sitting next to her; he’d been so tired after the full moon, a bit snappy with dark purple bags under his eyes. She paused her writing to pull out a bar of chocolate, opening it, she snapped off a piece to eat before setting the bar down and sliding it over to him without saying a word. His eyes never left his parchment as his hand reached over to grab the bar. He quickly broke off a piece before uttering out a mumbled “thank you” before snapping off another piece; it was gone within seconds.

 

Sirius pouted to her left, eyeing the chocolate enviously- she leaned into his shoulder, taking her hand from her parchment and giving his knee a squeeze. It was like magic, the pout vanished. She glanced at Sirius’s face, still handsome in a boyish way- for all the inbreeding the Black family had done, there was always one thing she couldn’t deny, and that was they were a very attractive family. Absolutely mad and bigoted for the most part, but she couldn’t deny that even her childhood bully had been easy on the eyes. She shook her head, trying to clear the train of thoughts, she needed to be focusing on making a map- one she drew inspiration from the future versions of the boys sitting around her. Except this map wouldn’t be for seeing who was in the castle it would be for tracking Tom’s horcruxes- she knew her changes would make him feel cornered and that the timeline of the past had been modified, but at this moment she had access to a piece of his magical signature, of his soul, and needed a way to be able to confirm their positions.

 

She struggled with the ethics of creating a map of this nature- she’d have to blood ward it for her use only and create a masking or confundus variation in order to prevent anyone with even an ounce of spell deconstruction talent from finding out what type of spell work she had used. Possibly a self-destruction fail-safe built in if it was ever cracked or in the event of her death. Goodness knows that if something like this had ever been in the hands of the ministry controlled by Riddle, there would have been no place in Britain the Order or the Trio could hide. Her arithmancy calculations had shown that it could be done- she had already asked Dumbledore for a moment to examine the Book of Admittance and Quill of Acceptance- both magical artifacts documented all the magical births and their locations. She gripped her quill tightly when a memory of running from snatchers resurfaced- it had to be done regardless of her ethical concerns about creating it. Sirius eyed her carefully as if noticing the shift in her mood.

 

Later when she pulled out the charms book she had started reading in the library, she found a single daffodil pressed between the pages.

 

September 30th, 1971 Defense Against the Dark Arts

 

Hermione was sincerely impressed with the quality of Defense teachers here in the 1970’s, then again, she argued with herself that a teenage age boy- Harry, did better teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts in an illegal group than ninety percent of the teachers Dumbledore had found- excluding Lupin, of course. So really anyone actually competent was a step up. She couldn’t really blame Dumbledore- Riddles curse on the position caused him to have to find thirty-nine different, yet somehow still highly or partially qualified, defense teachers in a very small magical community. It must have been a significant challenge. Especially since most of the time they were horrifically maimed, died, or had some other unfortunate event befall them.

Their current professor was Liam Wentworth, an Ex-MACUSA instructor. He was an older wizard with a stern teaching style, he barely spoke much, and when he did, it was very straight forward- she loved it. He was sitting on the ledge of his desk with his arms crossed, fingers tapping on his biceps while he waited for the rest of the students to enter. His hawkish gaze settling on a few rambunctious groups before lifting back up to check the time. At exactly one o’clock he flicked his wrist and closed the classroom doors, barring any latecomers; their names would automatically be listed for removal of points later.

 

“Alright, we’ve gone over the theory and basics of a few defensive and offensive spells. Today you will be pairing up to work on the defensive spell Protego and the offensive Disarming Charm, Expelliarmus. Any deviation will result in a detention. Now pair up.” He commanded.

Once students jumped up to start picking their partners, he magicked the tables and chairs to collect neatly along the walls.

 

Amy turned to her and asked if they could pair together; she saw a brief flash of disappointment cross Sirius’s face before James rolled his eyes and dragged him to the other side of the classroom. She smiled and followed Amy to the back corner. Remus was able to pair with a sweet girl she met in passing named Mary, while she could tell Lily and Snape still chose to work together. She narrowed her eyes at the snickering faces of Avery and Mulciber as they looked at Snape and Lily-she had started to notice that they’d make a few rude remarks to Lily or her in the hallways.

 

“Alright, we’ll start with Expelliarmus, I want no other spells cast, or we will shut this down immediately- begin.” he grunted as he moved to walk around the class. Groups started fairly quickly, a chorus of Expelliarmus ringing out.

 

“Alright, do you want to go first?” Hermione asked.

“U-hm, h-ow about you? I think it’ll be easier for me if I see you do it first.” Amy answered with a slight stutter in her voice.

“Okay”

She waited until Amy was ready before rolling her shoulders and spacing her feet.

“Expelliarmus!” She called calmly, her hand precise as it made a slashing twirl.

 

Amy’s wand was yanked forcefully out of her hand, causing her to stumble back as her wand sailed across the room into Hermione’s open hand. Professor Wentworth just eyed the exchange, before loudly calling out-

“5 points to Hufflepuff for a perfect execution and the first to accomplish it.”

 

There was some grumbling from the other students, more “not again,” “every time,” and a very familiar tone of “bloody brilliant.” She ignored them as she encouraged Amy to try.

Amy took a few short breaths before attempting.

“Expelliarmus!” her hand shaking at the last moment.

 

Hermione couldn’t feel anything, her wand still securely in her hand.

“It’s okay, you got this, just try it a little slower, it might help with the shake you get toward the end.” Amy nodded before trying again.

 

“Expelliarmus!” This time slower but with a much steadier twirl, Hermione’s wand wiggled in her hand.

“Excellent, just try again, a little more confidence, okay? You’ve got to trust yourself.”

 

“Expelliarmus!” This time Hermione’s wand flew out of her hand and fell onto the floor. Amy jumped up and down in excitement- Hermione picked her wand up off the floor before rushing over to congratulate her. Amy had won Hufflepuff another 3 points- they stood together as they watched the other groups continue to attempt the charm. Remus, naturally, was the first of the Gryffindors to accomplish it-his strong enough to force Mary’s wand into his hand like Hermione. Sirius and James followed shortly after, both just as impressive as Remus. Lily was the first to succeed between her and Snape- She could see the small downturn of Snape’s lips as his wand was knocked from his hand. She guessed Avery was mocking them from Lily’s narrowed eyes and pursed lips- from Snape’s growing sneer and tense shoulders. It took roughly twenty minutes before everyone in the class had successfully disarmed their partner- Professor Wentworth went around to each group, critiquing forms or just providing more theoretical advice for the next charm. He clapped his hands, gaining the room's attention, before signaling to start on the shielding charm.

 

“Same as last time, or do you want to try?” Hermione questioned.

“Nah, I think this order works best.” Amy grinned, more confident in her hexing abilities.

Hermione, once again, got into position, but as she stood waiting for Amy to try to hex her, she could feel an unpleasant tingling along the base of her neck- her magic coiling up and tense. She shifted her eyes off of Amy and scanned the room. There. Avery whispering to Mulciber, there gazes on Lily’s turned back; she could see their hands moving as if arguing before Avery raised his wand - wrist pointed at Lily. Her magic began to crackle, hair sparking, she raised her wand. Amy, unaware of her distraction, cast her hex just as Avery’s wand emitted a yellow hue.

“Titillando”

“PROTEGO DUO!” Hermione shouted, startling a few other students. A shield appeared in front of her, easily bouncing off the tickling hex Amy cast; the other shielded Lily’s back. The hex Avery cast bounced off and shot directly back to him. There was screaming as the rest of the class noticed what had happened. Avery was howling in pain, holding his nose as thick, viscous yellow pus erupted forth- Professor Wentworth rushed to his side. He grabbed Avery by the shoulder, stopping him from thrashing around to examine his face. There was a harsh look on his face as he pointed his wand and ended the hex.

 

“Explain now!”

 

There was silence just for a moment, Hermione stepped forward and took in Lily’s pale face. “I saw Avery trying to curse my sister behind her back- that is not something I’ll allow. So I blocked it.”

“I saw your shield, how exactly did you block it?” He knew the answer; he had seen her cast, but he asked all the same.

 

“I cast Protego Duo.”

The whispering started, Lily’s face softened as she mouthed a silent “thank you”.

 

“Excellent instincts and execution once again. 15 points to Hufflepuff for defending another student and performing an advanced charm. 15 points from Slytherin for cowardly and dishonest acts. Practice is over. Read up on Hags and the methods to protect yourselves from them while I escort Mr. Avery to the hospital wing.”

Professor Wentworth grabbed Avery by the back of the robes dragging the tearful snake out the door. Lily rushed over and hugged Hermione, behind her Snape stayed in place but gave her a nod of acknowledgment. Hermione felt some of the tension between them melt.

 

“Hey, hey enough of this, that was nothing. Surely you know I’ll always have your back, even if you are a prat sometimes.”

Lily laughed as she pulled back, she reached down and grabbed her hand giving it a light squeeze. Her brilliant emerald eyes sparkling like gems.

“I promise I’ll do a better job having yours.”

 

 

October 31st 1971- 7:26 am Hogwarts

 

Hermione pressed her hand against her side, trying desperately to stop laughing, tears were streaming down her face as she tried to wipe them away. In her watery gaze was Sirius sporting a very hilarious pair of black dog ears and a collar, his tail thumping quite loudly against the bench seat. She couldn’t exactly tell him why she found the fact that their prank had given him dog attributes- oddly familiar ones as well, was so funny but she could tell he was eating it up.

 

“Well hello there, Foxy Lady.” Sirius purred out, a large wolfish grin on his face as he took in her fox ears, fanged smile, and black-tipped hair.

 

She tried to control herself, but seeing James with huge bunny ears, whiskers, and a tail included- Remus with an abnormally large white woolen afro and horns—caused her to snort and let out a hearty laugh. Merlin, it was really starting to hurt. The boys and the other puffs all joined in- there were wolves, deer, dogs, sheep, horses, and birds, fur and feathers stretching as far as she could see. The entire great hall was filled with semi-animal students, they either laughed or lamented over their new additions. The head boy and girl looked panicked as they aggressively pointed to their new features, with a smiling Flitwick trying to calm them, she could tell it wasn’t working as their plumes of feathers fluffed up the more he tried to placate them. Dumbledore simply sat, eyes twinkling as he took in the hall. It took a while, but once she was calm enough to be able to at least look at them, she asked.

 

“Oh geez, as lovely as this is- how long is this going to last?” She ran her tongue over the corner of a sharp fang as she questioned them.

“Hmm I don’t have any idea why you’d be asking us, princess.” Sirius responded, face completely innocent as he took a curl and wrapped it around his finger, tugging lightly. She slapped his hand before giving them a stern stare.

“Oh, just a feeling. You all menaces might be more intimately aware than the rest of the student body.” The boys exchanged smirks before Remus leaned in to whisper.

“Well, if we did happen to know, we’d probably guess it’ll wear off around lunch, give or take a few minutes.”

“It better.”

Everything was certainly going fine until she turned and saw Severus sitting morosely, with long blue elephant ears and a matching trunk- Lucius leaned over to speak with him, sporting his own pair of large donkey ears, his tail twitching in annoyance. Narcissa, lovely Narcissa, trying her best but struggling to act elegantly with a long pig nose and hooves for hands. Hermione nearly choked on her tea.

 

She barely managed to get out a stuttering “you guys are the best” between her trying to force more air into her lungs between laughs. The boys swaggered around the rest of the morning, tails waving excitedly as their egos were boosted by her comment.

 

She couldn’t help but think this was one of the best Halloweens ever.

 

November 17th 1971- 12:05pm Hogwarts

 

It was a rare sunny day, and although the weather was chilly, Hermione cast a warming charm on her body as she made her way out into the grassy field off the court yard-even with the warming charm, her cheeks were rosy as her breath misted in the air. She had finally found a copy of “Magical Cartography for Aspiring Witches or Wizards” in the back part of the library and hoped to read half during the lunch hour. She had convinced the elves to send her off with a few warm pastries and a small thermos of hot tea, both nestled into her bag along with a thick blanket to cover the ground. She found a nice spot against a tree, sun shining through the leaves, just hints of warmth on her face and hands as she set up everything. She hadn’t been reading for long before she noticed a body sit down next to her. Her magic was warm and lazily reached out to caress the form next to her- she could hear him inhale. Turning her head, she took in the shivering form of Sirius. He was bundled up with a thick jacket and a thicker winter robe, his nose and cheeks red as his lips clattered. He had never done well with the cold. Taking pity on him, she cast a warming charm.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hello yourself, what are you doing out here by yourself?” he questioned softly.

“Just enjoying this bit of sun, want to sit with me?”

“Absolutely, who else is going to keep me warm.”

She just scoffed as she noticed he started to lay down, pushing the arm holding her book higher, he snuggled in, laying his head on her lap. She angled her book to cover the bit of sun that was shining in his eyes before bringing her other hand up to run her fingers through his hair.

 

By the time her wand started to vibrate, she debated whether it would be worth it to be late to class; he just looked so peaceful sleeping.

 

December 3rd, 1971 6:00 am Hospital wing

 

Remus groaned as he pushed the covers up- his entire body radiated pain, it was one of the worst transformations he had had in a while. He startled a bit when he felt a warm hand brush his forehead-it was too small to be Madam Pomfrey, much more gentle than her professional touch, his heart beating faster as he tried to clear his morning disorientation. He breathed in deeply, a soft apple blossom scent hit his nose, and his tense muscles slowly eased. His green eyes opened as he heard a soft hum followed by a soothing shh.

 

“It’s okay Remus, it’s just me, Hermione.”

 

She was looking intently at his face, eyes scanning back and forth as she checked for wounds. A clammy chill snaked up his spine, he didn’t think she had found out he was a werewolf, but he could hardly think of a reason to explain the new cut on his brow. Her eyes stared into his, a knowing look in her gaze.

 

“I asked Madam Pomfrey if I could visit you this morning, I know you’ve been feeling under the weather. Doesn’t help that you took a tumble trying to get out of bed.” her eyes staring at his brow. She was giving him an out.

 

His heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest, his hands tensed, clenching into fists. He knew she was brilliant, the most intelligent witch he had ever met. He knew she had known about healing potions and spells, she had shown him the book she was studying in the library about it. Yet, she acted ignorant of the fact Madam Pomfrey could have or should have been able to heal any cuts. She turned and sat in a small chair next to his bed before pulling out some rolled-up parchment.

 

“I made some copies of my notes for you in the classes you missed, I promise until you’re feeling better, I’ll keep making copies for you. I know how sloppy James's writing is and Sirius's—well, they don’t actually explain what was taught.” She set the parchment down on the side table before pulling out a chocolate bar. She slowly opened it a bit before handing it over.

 

“T-Th-Thank you, Hermione.”

He took the chocolate bar in his trembling hand and took a bite, even with the stress of her possibly knowing, the pull of the chocolate bar was too great. She smiled at him before taking his free hand and rubbing her thumb back and forth against the top. The combination of her touch and the milky chocolate melting on his tongue helped slow the erratic beating of his heart.

 

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright, Remus, I’ll go now and let you rest. I’ll come back in the evening to sneak you some more snacks if you like?”

 

“Yes, yes, that would be lovely.”

 

December 5th, 1971 - Hogwarts

 

“James Potter, if you don’t stop wiggling right now, I swear I’ll hex you as well.”

 

Hermione growled out as she tried to dab the cut on James's lip. Sirius, already patched up from her care earlier, lay sprawled out on the bench next to their table in the Kitchens. Remus, still slightly peaky but fully released from Madam Pomfrey’s care, had a collection of chocolate desserts piling up around him as the elves exuberantly brought him more after his earlier “that might be nice” to their pressuring. They could be very persuasive.

“buuuutt it hurrrtttts, honestly, Mia, you’re so rough with my delicate chin.” James whined. Hermione just gripped his chin tighter.

“Well, if someone wasn’t acting like a baby, he’d be patched up already, probably with a sweet treat too.” she mumbled.

“OUCH!”

She had dabbed a bit more aggressively than she had wanted, but he just wouldn’t sit still. She honestly could have just used episkey, but she was feeling a bit put out that they hadn’t listened to her in the first place, retaliating against some Slytherin 2nd year’s taunts- maybe some natural healing would be a good reminder. It was only the first year, but the enmity between Gryffindor and Slytherin was very alive and much more explosive in this era. It had been simple taunts or insults in the halls, in the middle of classes, but it had escalated when a Gryffindor third-year had been hexed quite horribly after dinner. He was lucky the prefects had found him groaning and shoved into a narrow hallway behind a tapestry on their nightly rounds. That had made the Hogwarts gossip train, and ever since then she’d been shielding and patching up these boys almost on the daily.

 

She finished, giving him another once-over before deeming him good. She turned to Remus, checking him over. Sighing in relief when he let her know he was unharmed.

 

“Those slimy snakes just surprised us, or we would have thumped them.” Sirius moaned out, wincing as he spoke. Hermione just stared at him sadly.

 

“I don’t want any of you hurt, not even the slimy snakes. Especially over something as petty as house pride. I can’t force you, but please try to ignore them; the more you feed this type of hate, the worse it gets.”

 

The boys were silent as the sounds of plates and silver where clattered, the soft magic of the elves as they hustled around the kitchen. She just stared into her plate, she didn't want to occlude with them, gut rolling as she struggled to curb her nausea at the memories of her past.

Notes:

Hey guys, I will be going out of town on vacation, so next upload wont be until after Aug 4th, this one was a bit short, I didn't have much time between trying to get everything ready.
Thanks for reading

Chapter 10: You Really Got Me

Summary:

Mother Magic cultivates those who are worthy

Notes:

Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is my first fanfic

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“Let us be certain of who we want to be. Let us choose for ourselves our path in life, and let us try to strew that path with flowers.” ― Émilie Du Châtelet

---

 

December 18th, 1971 8am Hogwarts

 

The soft light of the morning sun beamed down on Hermione’s face. There was a muffled rattle to her right; her wand had rolled off its position on her pillow and landed in the open pages of her cartography book. She groaned as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes; she had stayed up studying and mapping out possible spell combinations well into the night. She noticed she had fallen asleep reading as the book was still open, grimacing when she noticed a few of the pages had been creased. She slowly tried to smooth them out as she got up to get dressed- it was Saturday and the end of the first term. There was a sort of gloom that had settled over her, the thought of seeing her family again helped, but the daunting task of taking down Riddle only intensified as she had combed through her journal and notes. Dumbledore had owled her last night, implying that she should visit first thing before leaving- ice mice being a sensational holiday treat. She gathered her clothes- a simple white shirt with long sleeves, her black pleated skirt, and tights—she wanted to be comfortable on the ride home before heading to the bathroom to get ready. She had set aside everything before studying last night- her trunk already packed for the trip home.

 

Dumbledore was standing next to the window when she finally made it to his office. Fawkes, looking thinner and less plumed than she had seen in a while, gave her a small nod before readjusting on his perch to sleep.

 

“It seems you’ll miss his burning day over the holidays, a shame since it's such a sight to behold.”

 

Dumbledore mentioned as he turned around, his hands clasped together behind his back. The normal twinkling in his eyes was more subdued this morning, her magic was reaching out before she could stop it. A tentative touch caused her whole body to tense in anticipation, his magic was cold, much colder than she thought it would be- than it should be.

 

“Good morning, Headmaster. That is a shame, I’d love to be able to see it one day.”

 

Hermione smiled wistfully as she continued to observe Fawkes, hoping that her voice wouldn’t betray her unease- there was a clammy sensation that rushed through her. Her magic urging her to be cautious- rising to coil tightly at her fingertips. Her wand warming in her robe pocket as it rested against her legs.

 

She slowly turned her eyes from Fawkes and met his gaze. It happened in an instant—the sharp, violating sensation that drove into her mind, it was felt like an ice pick carving through her eye sockets- harsh violent, cold stabs. She bit down on her tongue enough to taste blood as she clenched her fists tighter, nails digging into her palms. Her magic sparking against her skin as she struggled to contain its fury. It felt like eternity, yet it was over in mere seconds as Dumbledore was thrown back into the window ledge, crumbling to the floor as he was forcefully expelled from her mind. A small amount of blood dripped from her nose as she fought to suck in air, her bloodied hands reaching up to cover her eyes and grasp onto the hair at her peak.

She was struggling to contain her magic- she groaned out in small whispers mantras of containment, of calm, as she willed her hands to heal, willed her magic to soothe instead of attack. Forcing him out of her mind had been easy, it was ensuring she didn’t kill him that she was fighting so desperately.

 

Dumbledore only let out a light moan of pain before he righted himself, eyes wide as he took in the shimmering golden glow around her. It was violent in its movements, bright and scorching against his skin as it lashed out against his magic. There was a tight pinching feeling in his chest as his lungs fought to expand, his body felt compressed- heavy as he grasped the ledge to force his body to remain standing. This was no spell to combat, no force to be moved- simply raw magic responding to the will of its host. Brilliant but terrifying- once again fate had decided to tangle his thread with another magical life that was capable of bending the fabric of destiny, of magically altering societies foundations. He wondered in this moment if she too would be another obstacle he’d have to eliminate. Her magic seemed to respond to the unvoiced threat as it lashed out once again, forcing him to his knees- his magic rising once more to fend off the oppressive force.

 

“Aequam memento servare mentem, Aequam memento servare mentem..” Hermione chanted as her magic began to recede, her golden glow dimming as it retracted its desperate hold on the ambient magic littered across the room.

 

There was a moment of silence as they both tried to calm their racing hearts. Dumbledore, now leaning heavily on the ledge as he pulled himself up- called out.

 

“Are you alright, dear?”

 

“Why Headmaster?” Hermione replied, voice shaking as she moved to rest in the chair in front of his desk. She examined her hands as she wiped the blood from her nose- it sparkled under the light, golden flakes glittered throughout her blood. Her eyes widened as she rushed to wandlessly scourgify it. She sighed as it was another thing she’d have to worry about concealing.

 

“I needed to be sure, needed to test the strength of your occlumency when caught off guard. What I intend to show you, to allow you to examine, can never be known or revealed to Riddle. I apologize for the harm, but it was something that had to be done.”

 

“For the greater good- I suppose.” She glared at him as she hissed out her response.

He paled as his jaw clenched- it was almost imperceptible. Hermione silently observed him, this was the most emotion she had seen from him- true emotion, not the grandfatherly mask he had always chosen to wear with Harry. She wondered how many others truly saw the real Albus Dumbledore.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Headmaster—history whether it be wizard or Muggle, has shown us that some of the most heinous acts have been justified on good intentions- on perceived righteousness. My past is a reflection of yours. I will not allow my present to be a continuation of that ruin.”

 

It was a threat- a promise she had made to herself once she had decided to involve him so early in the game. She could not allow this man to continue to play god- Merlin—to be the ultimate decider of what was “good.” She had seen the graves of all the children, of the lost souls he’d sacrificed when he could have ended Riddle before he ever became a snake-faced monster. She knew he was a good man, but ultimately he was only a man- all men, all humans, were flawed. She would be watching his moves closely.

 

“I am sorry, but this had to be done. Come follow me.”

His eyes were cold as he gestured for her to follow him, his body tense as he walked behind his desk. At the back was a large portrait depicting the four founders overlooking the land on which Hogwarts was build upon. He stood before the painting, wand drawn as he waved an intricate pattern, slowly humming.

 

“Omnes enim qui ab ea benedicuntur”

 

The portrait slowly opened, revealing a hallway- Hermione looked on in wonder, as she knew from the outside there was nothing attached to this tower, or nothing that could be seen or was ever revealed by the Marauder's Map. She followed Dumbledore as he led her down a narrow hallway. There was no sense of up or down, just a straight path that led to a large oval chamber. It had large ivory pillars draped in elaborate cloth tapestries, carved depictions of the founders etched into the stone walls, and a floor that was clear like glass- rainbows of crystallized formations reflected off the geometric shapes below its surface. In the middle of the room was an altar, and upon it was a large tome bound in black dragon hide- a long black quill with a golden nib fluttering above its open pages. Her magic was rising once again, its tendrils reaching out to stroke the magic surrounding them. It was heady and rich, like an intoxicating drink; it invaded her pores, seamlessly blended with her magic as it raced through her veins. Her pupils dilated as her steps slowed.

 

“This is the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance. Although the founders prevented its replication, you may try to examine the magic.” Dumbledore stated as he moved off to the side of the chamber- eyes challenging her.

 

She felt drunk as she flowed forward, her body moving on autopilot as magic urged her closer- she could feel it, the curiosity and caution emanating from the objects. She pulled her wand, coming to stand directly in front of the altar. She lowered herself, kneeling on the floor as she offered it up in both hands. She could feel the eyes of the founders engraved in stone shift and settle upon her form- judging her, waiting to hear her request. She was in a trance as she allowed her magic to guide her words.

 

“I offer the extension of my soul, the vessel in which my magic is willed into this world, so that you may judge my magic, my intent- to allow me to learn from you. I swear upon my magic that I shall never use what you chose to grant me knowledge of to intentionally harm other witches and wizards nor share that knowledge- but to bring about the end of the foulest magic wrought by Slytherin’s Heir.” - Hermione whispered in supplication. She had learned from her faults, she had always been skeptical of the more mythical aspects of magic- she had been the first to dismiss divination, the hallows, anything that wasn’t grounded in logic. In more sensible conclusions- yet here she was living another life, in another decade- she pleaded to the magic dominating this sacred space.

 

She had her eyes closed, breathing slowly as she waited. The magic fluttered, tightening around her as a buzzing noise entered her ears- there was another rush of heady magic as the buzzing stopped, and in its place was the loud sound of flapping parchment. The book upon the altar furiously flipped through its heavy pages; it stopped once it reached the end- a single page tearing from the book and landing into her hands above her wand. The heaviness she felt eased; it transformed into a soft warmth, a soft acceptance.

 

Dumbledore once again paled as he took in the sight of Hermione slowly rising from the floor, wand and parchment grasped in both hands. He couldn’t help but run his fingers over the knots in his wand.

 

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

She felt drained as she left Dumbledore’s office. She had examined the parchment she received from the Book of Admittance, it was covered in an elegant scrawl- formulas, wand movements, and commentary littered across the front and back of the page. She would have to spend some time translating it, as it was mostly in Latin with some Cornish and Old English sprinkled in. She had noticed how Dumbledore seemed pensive when he commented that the page appeared blank for him- it gave her the same uneasy feeling she had before he had decided to assault her with legilimancy. She checked her watch and noticed she only had a few more minutes before she was supposed to meet the boys before leaving. The three had decided to spend the first Christmas holiday at the castle - she was glad that Sirius might be able to avoid Walburga’s wrath for a little while longer. She walked in silence, contemplating the next moves she’d need to make once she returned home- trailing her finger along the stone walls and banisters, her magic toying with the small pockets of magic that sprinkled throughout Hogwarts.

 

She had made it all the way to the castle's entrance before she felt a familiar weight across her shoulders; the weariness she had been feeling fled as she leaned into the warm body at her side.

 

“I’ve finally found you, princess! I thought you’d run off and left without so much as a goodbye.” Sirius grinned, yet there was a tightness in his eyes, an uncertainty. She took his hand, rubbing his palm, hoping to give him reassurance before she cheekily responded.

 

“I’d never have left without saying goodbye, Siri. It would be blasphemous to leave without seeing my favorite wizard. So... Where is Remus?”

 

“She wounds me, my princess. I’ll simply have to perish.” He covered his heart with his free hand while making a pouting face. She smiled brightly as she pulled them along, seeing the rest of the boys further up head- she waved with her free hand, nearly jumping with enthusiasm.

 

“We’ve come to give you a proper send off- We’ll be staying behind to set up some pranks for the new semester.” James commented as she and Sirius got closer. She broke away from Sirius to give James a hug and then Remus. She gave him a good once over before chiding.

 

“Surely you’ll keep these two in line? How silly would it be for me to come back and all of you are in perpetual detention? I’d rather like to spend some leisure time with you- only Merlin knows why.”

 

“I’ll do my best, but no guarantees- this lot can be quite convincing.” Remus snarked.

“Oh no, they’ve corrupted my pure Remus already.” Sirius laughed at that, mumbling under his breath that Remus was just as bad. Giving their well wishes and promises of good behavior, Sirius led Hermione further down the path before stopping.

 

“Make sure you write and tell me all about how your Muggle Christmas is- you never know, maybe I’ll sneak some of the traditions in at home next time. It’d be worth it - Ol’ burga would be so cheesed off.” He tried to bring some levity to the request, but she could tell it hurt him, could tell that he wasn’t staying behind this Christmas because he wanted to- he hadn’t been invited back home. His magic radiated sorrow, of relief and of confusion. She focused her magic, letting it travel up her arms as she slowly wrapped him in a deep hug, pulling him tight as she allowed the warmth to spread between them both. He melted- he always melted, a sense of contentment rolled through his magic. This was one of her favorite things she could do for him.

 

“I’ll miss you, and I’ll write so much you’ll be sick of me, I promise, Siri.”

He seemed to breathe her in, tightening his hold- his fingers coming up to trail through the tips of her curls. He mumbled into her hair-

 

“I’ll be waiting, princess.”

 

 

 

December 21st - Yule Evans Home

 

Hermione’s magic had been turbulent since she had left Hogwarts, the entire train ride it seemed to flutter and flicker in discontent- she had thought it was due to the magical surge she had felt in the books chamber, but as the days continued, it seemed to grow more restless. She had dreamed of a Yule ritual twice now- each time with such clarity that she took it as a sign. She set out to collect what she might need for the small Yule ritual. It took nearly half the day before she returned home with what she thought she needed. She convinced Rose to let her spend the night with a friend, once she had her approval, she headed out, walking further into the neighborhood before calling the knight bus.

 

She arrived on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. If she had known she’d needed to be so close to Hogwarts, she would have stayed. The dawn was waning as she allowed her magic to guide her- it led her to a grouping of trees just outside of Hogsmeade valley-at its center was a small circular rock formation, something just large enough to contain a small fire, with adjacent rocks large enough to sit upon. She began to ward the area- familiar spells flew from her lips, Protego Totallum, Salvio Hexia, Cave Inimicum, Muffliato and Repello Muggletum, her wand arcing elegantly as each ward layered into place. She knew the heavy magical presence would help hide her magic usage even with the trace.

 

Pulling her bag from her side, she pulled out a long, flowing green dress, two wreaths made from evergreens woven together with sprigs of holly and mistletoe; one large Yule log, a jug of spiced cider and several incense, like pine, cedar, and frankincense. She methodically set up the Yule altar, the Yule log in the center, surrounded by the incense. Once done, she undressed and put on the green dress and adorned the first wreath as a crown upon her auburn curls. Her magic seemed more at ease now, appeased by the steps of the ritual, she allowed it to flow freely, connecting with the ambient magic coursing through the lands. It was nearly night, and although she was dressed simply in a thin dress, she felt stifled and hot- her magic urging her forward, eyes once again dilated as she lit the alter.

 

Golden red flames coursed through the Yule log, spreading high as the incense created a translucent white mist that spread within the boundaries of her wards. She knelt closer to the fire, her wand flicking to levitate the second wreath as she uttered the words of the ritual.

 

“I, Hermione Evans of the House of Evans, have come to celebrate with Mother Magic in the joyous rebirth of the sun. I come adorned in symbols for protection, eternal life, enduring life, and its continuation- in your colors for energy renewal and returning light—and offer you the same. Let this cleanse us, renew us as we toast to good health, to the strength of our magic, to the steadiness of our dedication.

því at ek lifi at þjóna þér”

 

She slowly lowered the wreath into the flames, the magic surging, soothing, and growing content underneath her skin. She gently took the cup out of her bag and poured some of the spiced cider into it- she hoped this would work as a good mulled wine substitute. Although she was able to obtain many things, she was still eleven in this body, and alcohol was challenging to procure.

 

She clasped her hands together and prayed over the cup.

“This cider is consecrated to Mother Magic, to my ancestors who watch over my steps. May this please her and imbue her might in all it touches.” She elegantly rose, her body fluid as she walked around the flames, cider spilling along the edges of the rock circle.

Wind picked up, tickling her curls as she continued.

 

“Hail to Mother Magic, Hail to the spirits of the land, Hail to my ancestors of blood and spirit. Make this place sacred by your magic.”

 

Her heart was beating fast and her magic swelled, the red glow of the fire casting a red hue across her pale skin. She had returned to her starting position as she gently set the cup down on the rock in front of the altar. She pulled out a small basket of fruits, breads, and meat and set it next to the cup.

 

“This feast is consecrated to Mother Magic, to my ancestors who watch over my steps- Thank you for your bounty.”

 

Taking out another cup from her bag, she poured more cider before toasting.

 

“Hail Mother Magic for success and victory in the year to come, I ask you.”

She took a drink, raising her cup again, she continued

 

“Hail Mother Magic for joy and bounty in the year to come, I ask you.”

Another sip.

 

“Hail Mother Magic, for friendship and peace in the year to come, I ask you.”

Another sip.

 

“Hail my ancestors and departed friends who are remembered on this night, stay with me, guide me in the year to come, I ask you.”

Another sip. Her magic was vibrating, pulsing with every sip.

 

“Mother Magic, ancestors of my blood and spirit, beloved dead who watch my steps- thank you for all you have done for me this past year. Pour out your blessings in the new year as I pour out offerings to you. Hail!”

 

She gulped down the rest of the cup, her body warm and invigorated as the fire roared higher. There were whispers in her ears, voices so familiar it caused tears to cloud her vision- their whispered apologies, pleas, and reverence melted together. Her eyes grew heavy as her magic cocooned her in golden radiance, finally fully content- almost purring. The last thing she heard before losing consciousness was a soft, airy, feminine voice that glided across her ears.

 

“So mote it be.”

 

 

 

 

December 31st, 1971 Evans House

 

‘Dearest Princess,

 

How dare you leave me in the company of such roguish gentlemen? Although they filled our time apart with whimsy and excessive amounts of trophy polishing in detention- sorry Remus wasn’t capable of keeping us fiends out of trouble, but I dare say you’ll be able to see a baby bowtruckle a half a corridor down with how shiny we got those Quidditch cups- I write to you demanding you return posthaste. I’m cold, and I need my Hufflepuff-sized heater, warming charms just aren’t the same.

 

Also— Thank you, I’ll cherish it.

 

Sirius Black of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black’

 

Hermione traced the petals of the red zinnia as she read the latest owl from Sirius. She had written to him just as she promised, detailing everything she could, from the smells of cinnamon and cider the shades of every light and decoration put up how her family always came together with hot chocolate-soft music playing in the background for Boxing Day. How they’d head in to London to ice skate and eat hot pastries on park benches while carolers sang. How she had loved his gift, a box of sugar quills and a bright red ribbon embroidered in gold patterns for her hair that was tucked into a new copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. She had mentioned it during one of their talks between classes. She had sent him different varieties of Muggle candies, Muggle magazines ranging from fashion to science to pop culture, a small snow globe featuring a winter wonderland, and a charmed box- capable of keeping out anyone other than him. She had wanted to give him a glimpse of another world and be able to be secure in knowing he wouldn’t be harmed for keeping small pieces of it. She knew he was capable of great compassion and care, saw glimpses of it in the emotionally devastated ex-convict sequestered away in his old family home- but living it, being on the receiving end of it, warmed her in a way she couldn’t understand.

 

She sighed as she placed a stasis on the flower and put it into the vase next to her bed; she was gaining quite a lovely bouquet. She picked up the prophet and reread the article that dominated the front page. Slowly but surely she’d crush his foundation.

 

 

MALIGNING THE MAGICAL WIZENGAMOT

BLOOD OR GALLONS DARK WIZARDS OF THE SACRED 28

Article by: Herald Sinclair

Daily Prophet Lead Investigator

 

Once again Yule came early - Or Christmas, if that’s your fancy. Another unmarked, untraceable package nearly took out my morning tea; this investigator fears that this anonymous source has a secret hatred of morning meals or comfort. I bring to you a sordid tale of the most sacred of our 28- if Cantankerous Nott is to be believed. As always, I have attached each document (once again triple verified and reconfirmed through Gringotts and D.O.M, ICW and MACUSA Leads)

 

Grindelwald is a name feared and renowned in his infamy. As he is banished to suffer imprisonment behind the walls of his own fortress, Nurmengard, he led groups of violent witches and wizards, spurring acts of murder, crime, and oppression in order to further his revolution. There is, however, another group that aligned with his nefarious goals, their involvement hidden by our very own. They’re known as The Knights of Walpurgis- This group has been around since the founding of wizarding culture. Historians theorize they were created to protect the wizarding world from the persecution of Muggles but later shifted their group's ideology towards the focus on the purification of the wizarding world- targeting Muggle-borns and Muggles. Does this sound familiar?

 

It should, as the new Dark Lord- Tom Riddle, recreated this group during his early years at Hogwarts. It was veiled under another play on words- The Knowledgeable Organization of Wizards- T.K.O.W. described as a scholarly group for extracurricular focuses. It allowed these Knights to form the foundation of today’s Death Eaters. (See attached school photo and paperwork.)

But you must be asking- How? How can this group of teenage wizards possibly be connected to Grindelwald? The group abbreviation T.K.O.W has been found in several ICW and MACUSA operation reports on Grindlewald’s funding and ingredient suppliers, even mentioned in several personal correspondences between Grindlewald and his generals.

We know T.K.O.W means The Knights of Walpurgis from several ICW, MACUSA interrogation transcripts of insurgents caught before the final duel between Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindlewald. (See attached documentation on pages 3-4)

 

And who, you might ask, was Knight? (see attached organization documentation)

 

Abraxas Malfoy

Tantum Yaxley

Nikolai Travers

Cademus Carrow

Antonin Dolohov

Edmund Mulciber

Simon Nott

Roman Rosier

Pollux Avery

Marcus Selwyn

Ulysses Lestrange

 

All leading wizards of our society situated heavily in our Wizengamot, heavily in the board of directors at Hogwarts, and heavily in shady transactions that span years. Funding dark wizards of old and new. (see attached Gringotts transfers)

All wizards with young sons and daughters- are out in our society, spreading the ideology and goals of dark wizards like Grindlewald and Voldemort. Their aim- elimination of a perceived threat that Muggles pose and, by their close connection, Muggle-borns. Yet in both instances these groups target anyone- eliminating those who they claim to want to protect if their ideology doesn’t align- Purebloods or those designated with the moniker “Blood Traitors”. Those of magical blood, without the history of some families- Halfbloods, Muggleborns. Those they claim are a threat- muggles, muggles who, until they have a wand pointed in their faces, have no knowledge that a witch or wizard is real. They’re simply myths, silly bedtime stories, fun tales, or caricatures to embody on days like Halloween.

There is no group in the history of our modern times that has done more harm or threatened more lives than these Knights of Walpurgis- than these Death Eaters. (see attached data showing crime rates, victims, and financial/population decline)

 

It is not the muggles or Muggle-Borns that threaten our society, our ways of life. It is not the Halfbloods, or the half-creatures or even the creatures themselves that diminish our “magical might.”

 

It is the witches and wizards that have held us back, that are unable to remove the blinders that fuel their delusions that we are stuck 220 years in the past.

 

These Knights and those that have followed carry the brand of their Halfblood Dark Lord- something copied and repurposed from Muggle gangs,

If you suspect, if you believe you simply need to check their lower left arm for the dark mark pictured below.

 

I leave you with this message

 

“Study history, study history. In history lies all the secrets of statecraft”

Notes:

Sorry for the delay- Returned home with sick kids and a time crunch. Since school is starting back up I'll be posting every other day M-F. If I do have time to continue once daily I will.

Chapter 11: Sunny Afternoon

Summary:

Even under the best care, flowers can wilt

Notes:

Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is my first fanfic

CW: Child abuse, suicidal ideations

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“Needing was so easy: it came naturally, like breathing. Being needed by someone else, though, that was the hard part. But as with giving help and accepting it, we had to do both to be made complete-like links overlapping to form a chain, or a lock finding the right key.” – Sarah Dessen

---

 

January 2nd, 1972 Cokesworth Park 6:15pm

 

The wind was howling through the barren branches of the trees sheltering him from the cold- prickling stabs of pain dominated his hands and feet. He had tried to wear the warmest socks he owned, but they were still threadbare. The cracking of his leather shoes along the ridge separating his soles allowed the biting cold to slip between. He coughed, wincing in pain as he clutched his ribs. Tobias had learned that his mother had been lying to him, that she had hidden a stash of pounds from him- Her excuse? She needed to save money for the bills and the costs of his school tuition- they couldn’t afford to buy more liquor. It had sent him into a rage, dragging her across the kitchen, up the stairs by her hair- he could still hear her screams, still feel remnants of the adrenaline pumping through his blood as he had rushed to save her. He had taken the punch Tobais had thrown, intending to land on his mother's face instead of his; he had taken the kicks, the vitriol spewing from his mouth as he slammed his body into the top steps of the stairs. He could still smell the liquor pouring from the hot, rank slipping between his bared teeth.

 

“You think you’re a man now don’t cha’- Think you can tell me what to do with my bitch”

Spit dribbling from the corners of his mouth- his eyes completely black, veins protruding from his forehead as he hissed.

 

His scalp throbbing from when Tobias ran his oily hands through his black locks, tightening and yanking as he decided to drag him instead. He had endured the punches, the biting pain of a bottle hitting his back breaking into pieces, the broken shards of glass in his palms as he had scrambled- clawed to get away. He could still feel the imprint of his mother’s nails as they desperately tried to pull him from under his father’s punishing rage.

 

“He’s just a boy! A boy! Please— please just hit me—it was me!”

His mother cries unanswered.

 

He coughed again. Grimacing in pain as something wet passed between his split lips- he raised a shaky hand, rubbing the liquid with his fingers. It was thick and warm, too warm, as it caused shocks of pain along his icy fingers. He brought his hand out to see what it was. Blood. So much blood.

 

His vision blurring as tears started to fall, the salty liquid stinging the open cuts along his lips and jaw as it trailed down his face. There was a tight pinching in his chest as his breaths became shorter- harder. His head spinning as he failed to bring in enough air- he felt like he was suffocating. It was an ugly thing, the wrenching sob that tore through his battered throat. Escaping out in a violent cry- filling his desolate soul in anguish. He just wanted to feel safe, for one day- for one moment in his own home to not feel on edge—and they were almost there. They had been doing so well, his mother and him. Tobias had left, gone on some bender with a few local drunks- months since they had seen or heard from him. He had hoped every day that he had simply died in a ditch somewhere, sometimes he even dreamed he had been the one to put him there- but his hopes were always crushed, and he always awoke from his dreams. It was only a few days until the next semester started. He sobbed more as the thought of how much more he would suffer- he had imagined how freeing Hogwarts would be, how he would finally have a safe place to call home. How he would finally belong. He should have been smarter, should have known that there would never be a place like that for an ugly bastard like him. Normally he’d be able to hide away until he had healed enough, it wouldn’t be an option this time with the second semester starting in a few days- his mother no longer able to heal him with magic after Tobias had snapped her wand years ago. His own wand was restricted by the trace.

 

Another ugly sob tore through him, as he stared at the blood speckled ground between his feet. He wondered what it would feel like just to let it all go- to just close his eyes, allow the cold to guide his body into a sleep he would never wake from. It would be so easy- the cold already numbing most of his pain. His body wouldn’t hurt anymore, his heart wouldn’t seize and stutter in pain anymore, he wouldn’t have to feel, to struggle- to be anymore. The neighborhood kids would rejoice, as they never liked him. The few acquaintances he had made at Hogwarts would simply rid their minds of the poor Halfblood barely worth their time. Lily would be sad, but she was always surrounded by those who could fill his place. His mother would cry, but she always cried, no amount of beatings between her or him was ever enough to leave. How desperately he had begged the times it seemed the worst, so unrelenting- when he whispered it into her ears as he wiped the blood from her unconscious form, fear gripping his muscles in tense anxiety with the startling thought that she might never wake up. Yet she always awoke like a ghoulish specter, half bloodied and beaten- always crying, pleading as she regurgitated the same apologies, whispered the same mantra as if trying to convince herself of its truth.

 

“It was my fault—he loves me, he told me— he loves you. He doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t mean it. He promised, He promised it wouldn’t happen again.”

 

It those moments he hated her almost as much as he hated Tobias. He hated how he still loved her so deeply when she rejoiced in his return. How could she still cling to that monster- still love the beast that would sink his fangs and tear their flesh at every opportunity?

 

Was his love not enough? Was her love for him not enough?

 

He closed his eyes, his body relaxing- letting go.

 

He was startled when he felt a warm hand against his bruised cheek, eyes cracking just slightly- his body tensing once more as his heart hammered in his chest. The pain was returning, was spreading. He didn’t want anyone to see, didn’t want the pitying stares, the condescending whispers. “Poor ugly Severus.” The cold winds blew a faint scent of apple blossoms accompanied by dark auburn curls that fluttered into his watery view. His mind raced, one name flashing as he tried to curl into himself and pull away- Hermione. How did she know?

The warmth traveled from his face to his hands- a soft “oh” whispered from her lips as she slowly turned them over to examine the extent of the damage. He couldn’t bear it.

 

“Go, please- just go and leave me.” he pleaded.

 

“No” it was simple, firm, it was just as warm as her touch it- it caused his hackles to rise.

 

Why couldn’t he just die peacefully?

 

“I never asked for your help.” he groaned out between clenched teeth- he couldn’t help how his body leaned into the warmth radiating from her.

 

“You never have to, since you’ll always have it. All you have to do is let me.”

 

He turned his head to look at her, her golden eyes simply taking in his battered form. She confused him, no matter how much he pushed, how much he snarled, she always tried to pull him into her orbit. She was so different yet so similar to Lily. Those golden eyes, so piercing, showed no hint of pity. He closed his eyes while he hung his head, allowing his ruffled locks to shield his face. He was tired, tired of fighting for everything, for clawing for a chance of happiness- for hanging onto the few small moments of kindness that graced his despicable life.

What was one more moment?

 

“Okay”

 

His body fully relaxed in her care, he could hear the clanking of bottles as she moved, could smell the harsh antiseptic of the wipes she used between breathless apologies and directions to move. He fingered the soft knitted blanket she had thrown over his shoulders while she worked, it was charmed. The cold and pain melted away as she applied a magical paste to his wounds. Each gentle caress of her fingers gave a rush of lingering relief after hours of pain- it was a heady feeling to be cared for. To be healed in this way.

 

It had felt like an eternity of gentle touches and soothing words before she took his healed hands and placed a vial into his palm.

 

“You’ll need to drink this- its an invigorating potion, after that, a mending potion, it should help with any internal damage and help rebuild soft tissues. I’m sorry in advance-they both taste terrible.”

 

He simply nodded before downing the first. Merlin, she wasn’t kidding; it tasted like straight vinegar-

 

It was gritty and slimy. The second was just as bad- he wondered if this was what troll piss tasted like.

 

He groaned and gagged as he forced himself to not throw up. Between the violent lurching of his stomach, he could feel the rhythmic circles of her small hands rubbing against his back. It helped. When he was done, those same hands gently grasped his chin, tilting his head up so she could examine his features. Her free hand slowly pushed his hair back behind his ears. The tops of his ears burned.

 

“Much better.”

 

She seemed to turn her gaze as her hands dropped to collect her supplies and place them back into her bag. She elegantly rose from her kneeling position once everything was cleaned and packed away- she wiped the dirt from her jeans as she hummed a melody he wasn’t familiar with- her voice soothing him. She looked at him once more as she silently extended her hand.

 

He felt possessed as his hand automatically slipped into her smaller one. She tugged gently, helping him rise to his feet, leaning in once he was up to brush the dirt from his pants.

 

“Come on, it’s time to go home.”

 

He squeezed her hand, eyes unable to meet her gaze as he followed.

 

 

January 9th, 1972 - Hogwarts 8am

 

He was barely focusing on the chatter happening all around him. Malfoy was droning on and on about some magical vineyard that his family had acquired over the break. He barely held back a snicker as he noticed the mildly annoyed faces of his housemates, something new and unexpected after the amount of fawning he was subjected to during the first semester. The article that came out over the break gripped every witch and wizard- it was all that was talked about, or whispered about behind closed doors- especially if in the company of the supposed dark wizards. From the follow-up articles, it seemed that the Ministry was receiving heavy backlash from the general wizarding population to do something about it. There were hints- implications—that these families might be subjected to heavy scrutiny either from raids or financial audits. It even caught the attention of the ICW and MACUSA. Their correspondence stating that they will be working together to investigate the claims more closely. While Malfoy had taken him under his blond wings, helping cultivate his knowledge of wizarding etiquette and Slytherin subterfuge, there was always a persistent feeling of condescension, of distance.

 

“Don’t worry, for a Halfblood you’re excellent.”

 

Always small comments or backhanded praises, as if he was surprised he was capable of being intelligent, of excelling. He had accepted his help and guidance, willing to bottle his feelings in order to be seen- to be validated.

 

He wondered now how poisonous his care could actually be.

 

He was caught off guard from his musing when a small brown owl dropped into a basket of bread in front of him; it thrashed about, nearly knocking over his morning tea. He leaned forward curiously, noticing a parchment wrapped square clutched in its talons. He located some bacon and offered it up; it nibbled gratefully before taking off. His housemate's eyes shifted to the parcel as he picked it up to see who it belonged to. In bold, elegant script it read: To Severus Snape.

His brows furrowed together as he tried to recognize the script. He slowly unwrapped it to reveal a small subscription card and an Advanced Guide to Potioneering- the subscription card was a congratulations for becoming a member of Potions Weekly, and the book was something he had been desperately wanting. Both were things he had been saving up for. Shocked, as he opened the book's cover to find another card. In that same elegant script, it simply stated.

 

“Happy Birthday, you prat. - H”

 

As soon as his eyes cleared the note, there was a brief flash next to his plate- a small cup of Holiday Blancmange. It was a sweet, almond-flavored pudding. It was his favorite dessert- something that always reminded him of happier times.

 

Black eyes met gold across the great hall.

His stomach twisted as his heart clenched in an unfamiliar way. He nodded. When she nodded back, he couldn’t help the small smile that graced his lips.

 

 

January 30th, 1972 8:00 pm-Hogwarts

 

Hermione was once again hiding in a hidden corridor behind a tapestry. The word had gotten out that it was Lily’s birthday, and of course even the slowest were able to piece together that it was her birthday as well. Then again, she mused, the owls bearing gifts and her own knitted package that she handed over to Lily in-between classes weren't very subtle. She did relish the slight shock and guilt on Lily’s face after accepting her gift when she had nothing to gift to her in return. They had been singing praises about her kindness, her intelligence, and her beauty. Even though she maintained the top spot, she was still easily overlooked by the masses. It was just normal Lily things. Her lovely but slightly exasperating badgers had showered her in sweets and gifts- her parents and Petunia all sent well wishes in her journal and a few books and magazines she had mentioned she was interested in. Her boys, equally as shocked and slightly peeved that she hadn’t willingly given up the date. Sirius’s pout was felt and seen in no less than 4 classes- one she wasn’t privy to but was certainly told about by a disgruntled Remus. Even all of her efforts with Severus paid off, as he seemed to be more receptive of her presence- allowing small moments of what seemed like care, allowing her to help with a piece of spell work or give a correction without much snark. She was warmed by the depth of love being shown to her, yet anguished by her memories. She had always struggled to be seen, to be remembered. Always having to celebrate it belatedly or accept the “I’m sorry we forgot; have this candy we pulled together.” It was always bittersweet to see the difference. But her mind wouldn’t let it go- the question that dug into her psyche year after year.

What was so unlovable about Hermione Granger?

 

She sighed as she checked to see if the coast was clear. She only had an hour before curfew, and she wanted to spend some time near the black lake. The weather had been mild, still chilly but cloudless during the day and again during the night.

 

As she crept about the halls trying to avoid those who knew her, she rubbed the ache that permeated her chest. Once outside, the cold air seemed to help ward off her melancholy- she held off on her warming charms until she neared the Black Lake. Her mind wandered as her feet took her to the same spot she had once watched Victor Krum train at. There was a large log that was comfortable enough to sit at for a while; she sat pulling her robes close. The small breeze coming off the black lake caused her to shiver, goose bumps raising across her arms, her lips quivering- whether it was from the cold or her sudden need to cry, she couldn’t tell. She lazily cast a warming charm. Taking in the tiny shards of starlight bouncing on the waves like diamonds charmed in an intricate waltz on a stunningly black liquid stage- lit by the hundreds of thousands of constellations and stars in the vast sky above. It was beautiful; it was mesmerizing. She hated that even with this beauty, this magical display that her past still affected her. It had been years- years of coming to terms with her grief. There was a single tear that escaped, chilling her skin as it carved a path down her face. She sniffed, trying to hold back the rest.

 

“There’s no tears allowed on your birthday, princess.”

 

She jumped, nearly falling off the log as she turned to see a thoroughly bundled-up Sirius. In his hands, a single slice of Victoria sponge cake. She remembered that she had mentioned it in her letters to him how it was one of her favorites- he remembered. She couldn’t help but cry in earnest. Sirius’s face paled as he rushed forward, placing the plate down on the log before taking her into his arms.

 

“Whoa whoa princess, I just said you couldn’t cry. I can vanish the cake if you hate it that much. No sugary treat should abuse you on your birthday.”

 

She laughed between a particularly heavy sob, clinging to him tightly as she forced out a strangled reply.

 

“No its lovely, I swear— it’s, it’s happy tears.”

“Princess, that’s barmy- why would it make you cry if you’re happy?”

 

“Thank you, it was just- everything, it's everything.”

 

He hugged her tighter. It took a while for her to let it all out. Sirius remained silent, just holding her tight- every once in a while he’d move a hand to run through her curls. It was soothing; it was warm. When he noticed her crying had reduced to small sniffles and breathy sighs, he leaned her back to examine her face.

 

“Feeling better?”

 

She gave him a shaky smile and nodded.

He picked up the plate with the cake in trepidation, half convinced it would cause another meltdown, before placing it in her hand. He pulled a fork from his pocket and a candle. He handed her the fork before placing the candle in the slice and lighting it. She studied the gaze on his face as he looked into her eyes. He conjured a yellow chrysanthemum and tucked it behind her ear.

 

" Make a wish Princess.”

 

She closed her eyes, it wasn’t so much as a wish but a fervent prayer. She prayed to change their fates.

 

She could barely remember the sweetness of the cake, but the warmth from his silent company lingered.

Chapter 12: Instant Karma

Summary:

plucking and pruning can be difficult choices, but it is vital- necessary for the health of the garden

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

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“What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

---

 

March 29th, 1972 Hogwarts

 

There was a flurry of whispers from other students as they watched another Slytherin getting stopped in the walkway outside the great hall by a prefect- this time it was a 7th year, disappointment and shame lingering on both faces. The prefect was furiously whispering, hands waving in harsh motions as they pointed to the display above the Slytherin’s head. The snake tried to reason with the prefect, but it only seemed to irritate them more- they pinched the bridge of their nose and led the student away. Shining brightly in neon pink above the Slytherin’s head was a floating title- Cruel and Brutal Fellow. Below the floating title, it listed the hex and the victim's name- it was a 1st-year Ravenclaw. Hermione smiled as she entered the great hall for breakfast- it was even worse than in the walkway. Individuals from multiple tables had titles of their own- Deceptive Delinquent, Petulant Pursuer, Bigoted Brute, Cowardly Lion, Misguided Thug, Sticky-Fingered Eagle, Shameless Harpy, Arrogant Abuser, Darkly Deranged, Unhonorable Rabble Rouser- it almost hurt her eyes to see all of the neon lights flashing together in one space. As she looked to the Gryffindor table, her heart dropped as a frown graced her lips. Those idiots. Her three boys all sat with a title of their own- Golden Bully Bunch—and their victim was Severus Snape. They looked pale as they barely picked at their food. James and Sirius looked especially guilty as Remus looked peeved. He was gaunt and snarled when they asked him a question, his hand coming up to point at the title above his head- his eyes flashing gold as he furrowed his brow. The full moon was tonight. He took a deep inhale before he turned his head in her direction- he must have caught her scent. The others followed his eyes- once they saw her, their eyes widened before they started to sink into their seats as if hiding under the table would eliminate their presence. She narrowed her eyes as she walked over to them- she stopped once she was right behind James and Sirius, her magic crackling in her curls with irritation. She placed her hands on her hips, foot tapping as she ran her tongue over her teeth, barely hissing out a command in a low voice.

 

“Explain-now.”

“well you see-”

"I mean, he hexed us first-”

“If you know what's good for you- don’t you ever try to lie to me again, or you’ll be facing something much worse than this.”

 

The two boys paled even further, now a ghostly white instead of their pasty pale, not even the bright neon gold shining above them could warm their features. Remus just sighed as he rested his forehead on the table.

 

“Remus, explain.”

Her threatening gaze fell on his disheveled blond locks, she narrowed her eyes as she silently willed the words to leave his mouth. Without lifting his head, his muffled voice stuttered out.

 

“They- um, we, we- Well James saw Snape with Lily, and then Sirius noticed, and they both talked about you and your sister- and you’ve been a lot more friendly to Snape- so when Snape sneered at them before leaving, they- we kinda hexed him.”

 

“mmmhhmmm- what else?” She had moved to cross her arms now, nails digging into her forearms.

 

“well, he couldn’t actually see… because-because his back was turned, so he kinda.. fell.. Into your sister, and then they both got hurt. We didn’t mean for that to happen, I swear-Snape was able to hex us back, but, when the titles popped up, we all scrambled.”

 

These idiots.

 

“So, to clarify, you three ‘geniuses’'- she said it with as much sarcasm as possible to convey- "decided to hex one of my friends, unprovoked, in a group while he was defenseless, and to top it off, you got my sister hurt too? Is that right?”

She was smiling now, it was toothy, sharp, and sickeningly sweet. Her eyes flashing golden. Remus, having finally looked up, seemed to recoil- a silent “oh no” formed on his lips. Sirius winced as he raised his hand to grip James's arm- James instinctively started to lean back across the table, hoping to put some distance between himself and the aggravated Badger.

 

“Bullies are disgusting, I will not tolerate it from anyone, especially not toward my friends or family or from my friends or family. I’ve been gentle, I’ve been firm, I’ve spoken with each of you about how wrong your actions have been this year- but you don’t seem to learn. So I guess it's time for the stick.”

 

Her harsh but soft words enraptured the rest of the Gryffindor table; they waited on bated breath- it was a small twitch, hardly noticeable unless you were specifically looking for it- but oh, those boys were focused in. They tried to flee, but in an instant they were all yowling as large, winged bat bogies erupted from their nostrils. There were surprised gasps and screams as people tried to leave the table- concerned they’d be hexed in the crossfire. The teachers shook their heads in disappointment, the prefects sighed as it was another situation they’d have to deal with. Yet, one thing all the students took in was the fact that no neon title appeared above her auburn locks. The whispers started in full force once more.

 

“Do not speak to me, keep your distance until you understand why this is such a big deal- when you’re ready to apologize to Snape and my sister, let me know.”

 

She glared at the scrambling boys once more before turning in a fury back to her table- Amy and Beth just stared in adoration, Lysander and Greg seemed to be less amused as they unconsciously covered their noses as she neared. Lily and Snape seemed to give her appreciative looks. She grabbed a plate, loading a few fruits and pastries before giving her housemates a small smile. She walked out of the great hall, plate in hand, curls swaying with the force of her pace. A small pang of sadness blossoming beneath her sternum, she hoped it wouldn’t take them long.

 

March 30th, 1972 7:15am Hogwarts

 

She was prepared to stonewall the boys as long as it took, even though everything in her wanted to cave at the beaten puppy looks they sent in her direction- after they had the hexes taken off and were given a stern reprimand by McGonagall and Madam Poppy, they had trailed after her at a respectable distance for the rest of that day. Trying to silently catch her eyes, constantly checking her face and body language for a weakness. She endured. Although her sleep was heavily disturbed, she just couldn’t get comfortable, not even the starry display on her canopy helped soothe the disappointment or rid her of the heavy pressure in the back of her throat. She had known about their troubled past- it was in late-night conversations with Harry, how she had to calm him and reassure him that his father wasn’t a monster- just misguided. That his godfather was still a good man and had suffered tenfold in the years after his school days. That his favorite uncle werewolf professor, was still someone worth looking up to even if he had lacked the courage to stop his very first friends. It was just so much harder to see in person, to experience it fully. She hated bullies, dealt with them time and time again- she just couldn’t in this life.

 

It didn’t take long for one of the boys to catch her in the corridor- Remus, panting and wincing from the pain of his transformation, begged in a raspy voice.

 

“Mia, please- can we talk?”

 

Her tension melted as she gazed at him, softly nodding in acceptance before slowly leading him into a deserted classroom. She took his hand and conjured a chair from a pen she had pulled from her bag- leading him to sit as she scanned him for wounds. He was grateful to be off his feet, eyes taking in her worried expression as she leaned close during her silent observations. It only took a moment, it seemed, for her to be satisfied with what she saw before she took a step back and waited. He was nervous, his hands twitching, his leg shaking- he nibbled on the corner of his lips before letting out a heavy sigh. He took a shaky hand and ran it through his hair before closing his eyes. She was his first friend, a warm presence that always welcomed him, always found him at his lowest this year, and provided support- the person who introduced him to some of the most wonderful mates he had ever had. Shame had followed him, clinging like a malicious hex to his form, even turned -mind lost to the violent beast within him did he suffer. He had been told that his mournful howling had been so loud that Dumbledore had to apply a silencing charm in fear that someone would come to investigate. He had been cursed by a deranged werewolf as a child, had agonized over the fact that he would be- was a monster for the rest of his life. He had known deep inside himself that what James and Sirius were doing was wrong, yet he was afraid- desperately terrified that if he stopped them, they would decide he wasn’t worth the time, wasn’t worth the tentative friendship they had started. He needed it, it was one of the only things that brightened his days, the only thing that helped convince him when he was alone that he might actually be worthy of something good for once. Now that he knew what friendship felt like, he didn’t think he could bear living if it was ripped away from him. He was terrified.

 

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry, Mia!” he sobbed. “I just—I was afraid to stop them, I know, I know I should have, but I lacked the courage. I felt sick when I saw Snape and Lily fall- because I was a part of it- I was the reason they got hurt.” he rubbed his eyes with shaky hands before wiping his snot with his arm.

 

“I couldn’t stand it, even after with that bloody title- the looks people gave us, the way they distanced themselves. It was like my worst nightmare- people looking at me as if I was a monster.”

 

His lovely green eyes were bloodshot; the stress of the incident, of their fight, and the horrific transformation had sucked all the vitality out of them. He was haunted- hollowed out.

 

“I promise, I’ll stop them, I’ll make sure we never become the bullies you believe us to be.” His voice trembled as he hastily sniffled. His shakes were back in full force as he waited on her reply. He took a breath and looked at her face, it was soft, admiration shining from her golden orbs- a blinding smile on her lips. She twitched her wand, transfiguring his seat into a longer bench. Coming to sit beside him, she pulled him into a crushing hug- he tensed but quickly melted as she rubbed his back. Her scent soothing the hollow ache in his chest. Her gentle voice cooed next to his ears.

 

“You are honorable and brave Remus, one of the hardest things is standing up to your friends. It's even harder to recognize when you’re wrong and come to terms with it. I forgive you for your small lapse in judgment. You could never be a monster- you are not a monster.”

 

She gave him a knowing look- it nearly broke him. He closed his eyes and leaned into her embrace, each pass of her hands vanished the anxiety, the terror, and the shame. It washed away his worries. Suddenly a thought invaded his mind, his voice leaving him before he could stop it.

 

“It was you-”

“hmm?”

“It was you, wasn’t it? The one that created the titles?”

She pulled back and smiled at him- it held satisfaction-surprise.”

“Always the cleverest, aren’t you.”

 

He was speechless. He was slowly getting used to the way she confidently dominated the classrooms and to the random but consistent moments of brilliance she displayed through the year. He had pushed himself to keep up, they all had struggled to match her grades, her competency- but this, this was beyond his comprehension.

 

“How? Why?”

 

“I told you I think bullies are disgusting- I mean it with every ounce of my being. I could hardly stand by for a moment longer without doing something about it.”

 

She ran her hands through his sandy locks, he was embarrassed as the feeling made him let out a low groan. He blushed, mortified, nearly pulling away, but her grip was firm. Thankfully she seemed to ignore it.

 

“Violence begets violence, hate begets hate. It breeds and festers, and the rot grows as long as it is allowed to feed in the dark. The wizarding world, while magical- mystical and full of wonder, seems to be shrouded in a thick darkness. Where better would it be to start shining a light on the future of this world?” Her voice was tinged with a sadness, a flowing, solemn cadence that captured his attention. He was mystified.

 

“But how- its NEWT- no Mastery level magic?”

 

“I am weak when it comes to being creative with making new spells, something I’m working on- but I do excel in reforming and combining spells. I modified Priori Incantatem to include speech and action along with spells, combined with a Tempus to time who struck first, a modified Homemum Revelio based on the Aparecium charm to show how many were involved and reveal the intent in each person’s actions, and a tweaked Avenseguim to allow the Title, their crimes, and the victim's name to follow them. Then I added a jinx component to creatively come up with a harmless title befitting their actions. And lastly, cursed it to remain- no finite, no possibility of a counter. It will only leave once the person admits to their acts. I simply used a wide area effect to soak all of Hogwarts- So anyone who acts unjustly against an innocent within her boundaries will have a light shined on them.”

 

“Merlin that’s bloody brillant-But- you hexed us and you didn’t get a title?”

 

“Its based on intent and justice- was I unjust in punishing you for harming others?”

 

“well no-”

 

"That's the point- there are many people who convince themselves they are doing the right thing, acting in the right way because they’re convinced they’re justified- this… this just shows them when they’re wrong. Truly wrong.”

 

They were both silent for a moment.

 

“Remus, from the moment my family and I entered the wizarding world, we have experienced a passive cruelty- a quiet discrimination, very rarely loudly displayed but still present all the same because of our blood and the history of our magic. For a unchangeable characteristic. We cannot help how we are born, we cannot help what flows through our blood- but we do shape and determine what actions and paths we take. Yet my time here at Hogwarts has shown me that those who should be leading- those who should be correcting those that have lost their way—are standing idly by. Allowing this discrimination to thrive and breed- now with new ammunition, what house you were sorted into.”

 

She removed her arms- it left him feeling cold.

 

“The longer this is allowed, the longer Dark Wizards like Voldemort- he flinched as she said his name- will have ready and willing soldiers jumping at the chance to do his bidding. I want to live, Remus, not just survive in a hostile world. So I’ll do what I must to break this mold into an environment where my family and I can truly live- where you can truly live.”

 

His hands clenched as his heart squeezed- he sucked in a shuddering breath. His head shook back and forth in disbelief as he stared into her unwavering gaze.

 

“You- You know..”

“I do.”

“No you can’t!”

“I’ve known since the moment I visited you in the infirmary, Remus.”

 

He was spiraling- how, how did it get here? He had suspected, he had prayed it wasn’t true. If she knew, other people could know, other people could tell, and he’d lose it all. He was ready to bolt a wave of desperation and terror ripped through him- his eyes narrowing as he looked for escape routes. Gold overtaking his normal green as the beast rushed forth, his instinct battling on whether to fight or run. She quickly snapped her wand, applying a sticking charm to his form, forcing him to return to his seat.His muscles were bulging as he fought against the binding magic. As if understanding his increasing panic, her magic instinctively rushed forth, flowing out to soothe him, tendrils of power distracting his racing thoughts as her scent seemed to flood the room. Calm- Calm it was like a mantra suggested in his blood, in his soul. His eyes slowly regained the lovely green she was so used to seeing.

 

“I need you to breathe, Remus, deep breaths.”

 

His body obeyed as the crushing force inside his chest, inside his mind, lessened. It was her touch that snapped him out of his anxiety-ridden haze, grounding him in the moment. A firm grip on his left hand.

 

“Remus, nothing's changed- you’re still my friend, still the cleverest boy I know. Still brave and honorable. I meant what I said- You aren’t a monster. Just a little furry sometimes and moody with probably a strong desire for red meat occasionally- to be honest, my mom said that’ll be some of the same issues I and my sister will have to deal with when we get older..”

 

That caused a deep laugh to erupted from his lips, the absolute absurdity of her rambling caused uncontrollable laughter to follow- his nerves were shot, defaulting to trying to manage his emotional whiplash. She joined in both unable to hold back the tears through their spiraling giggles. He couldn’t help but notice she had kept his secret all this time. It flooded him with contentment.

 

Her wand was vibrating, the loud noise interrupting their moment. It was time for breakfast. She squeezed his arm before taking her wand and removing the sticking charm. There were a few more flicks as she righted their clothes and vanished their puffy eyes, eliminating any trace of their emotional morning. She put her wand in her pocket before digging into the bag she had brought- pulling out a bar of chocolate. Of course he thought, she had always offered a chocolate treat after every full moon She offered it to him once again- it was tradition at this point. He hesitantly took it; she left her hand out- another offer for him to take. He clenched the chocolate in one hand while taking her hand in his other. She pulled him up, then wrapped her arm around his as she tugged him back out of the classroom. He felt a painful relief; someone knew outside of a teacher. His friend knew, and she held him just like she would on any other day. He wasn’t alone with his condition.

 

“So we’re good?” he rasped

 

“Golden”

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

The next apology nearly made her resolve to remain stoic, distant, and pensive collapse, mainly because she just wanted to throttle him. James, oh James, with his dark, untamable hair and lopsided grin that reminded her so much of Harry, cornered her after lunch. In the middle of the corridor, surrounded by a multitude of witches and wizards, he dropped to his knees in her path, arms raised in supplication before grasping her robes. Some blushed, some laughed- most of them sighed, as this wasn’t as eccentric as some of his previous displays, but it was still unnerving to have to see. It was almost tame- though highly inappropriate.

 

“Forgive me! I’m an idiot- a dunce of the highest form, your majesty. Please grant me your grace, most benevolent one!” He yelled out. The prefects that had started walking in their direction simply shook their heads and walked away- the last few days had been trying enough.

 

To be fair he did look very pitiful as he clung to the bottom of her robes, lips pouting and eyes wide as he tried to convey his penance - she huffed in exasperation, reaching out to pinch his ear as she hauled him up from the ground. Was he dropped on his head as a baby? Why, why would he choose to do this with an audience? It was insulting; it made his apology seem insincere as he tried to make a spectacle out of it.

 

“no no— ouch, please have mercy on me, Mia!”

 

She was silent as she dragged him out into the courtyard, it was sunny yet still slightly chilly. His cries for mercy went unanswered as she diligently herded him to a secluded spot. Only releasing him after her glare scared off a few stragglers that seemed like they were trying to stick around to be nosy. She released him with a scowl on her face, her body tense as she waited for him to get settled.

 

“ow, gosh, for such a little witch, you’re abnormally strong.” He laughed as he rubbed his abused ear, trying to introduce some levity into the tense atmosphere. He was met with an uncomfortable silence as she waited. He swallowed before he shifted nervously.

"I, ugh, I wanted to apologize.”

“And that’s the way you chose to do it? I thought I told you to keep your distance until you understood- truly understood. Nothing in your actions or tone conveys that.”

 

He raised his hands in a placating gesture.

 

" I do- I swear I do understand.”

“Then tell me- explain it to me.”

 

He paled a bit before rubbing the back of his neck.

“I was being a right prat, a cowardly idiot, and cruel on top of everything else- I let my anger dictate my actions, and I harmed your friend- your family. I convinced myself Snape deserved it. That was wrong- I was wrong, and I am sorry.”

 

he seemed contrite in his expression and tone.

 

“James what are the qualities of Gryffindor that the house prides themselves on?”

 

“oh- uh, bravery, daring, nerve, and chivalry.”

 

“You praised your house since the first day I met you- why?”

He was confused at where she was taking this conversation but answered anyway.

 

“I wanted to make my family proud, I wanted to be in the same house as all the heroes I heard about growing up- I want to be one. To create a legacy of my own to be passed down.”

 

“I want you to know that I know you can be a great wizard. I know that you are capable of becoming one of those heroes you dream of being. You've been a great friend - but I will not sit by while you ruin every chance you have of being great.”

 

She could see his anger growing, the Potter temper rising to the surface as he clenched his fists and jaw. Harry hated this kind of pressure as well.

 

“You are not being brave when you single out someone to harm when they’ve done nothing to you, just because you’ve convinced yourself they deserve it. That’s cowardly. It is not daring to allow your temper to move your wand, nor is it nerve when you ignore the wrongness of your actions. It is not chivalry when you attack someone on a perceived slight or injustice in the name of someone who never asked you to- never said a word other than that person was a friend. I am confused- you praise your house, fight to defend some made-up honor all the while acting like the antithesis to every quality you hold dear.”

 

She walked forward, looking into his blazing hazel eyes.

 

“James, what you are, what you have been doing, is being a bully. I asked you- I warned you to not come to me until you understood. I don’t say this to hurt you, but I feel as though it’s something you need to hear.”

 

He seemed to crack then, all the fight fleeing his body as his face started to turn red. His eyes were glassy as he looked away. He shuffled his feet, kicking at the cobblestone before sighing loudly. He dropped to sit at the small raised stone ledge next to them- he patted the seat at his side, hoping that she would sit alongside him. She did- waiting patiently for him to organize his thoughts.

 

“How could I ever have thought you’d be anything but a puff?” He laughed—it was more like a pitiful chuckle- way to knock a wizard off his feet. But thank you- I think, no, I know that was something that I needed to hear. "

His nervous tick of running his hands through his hair appeared- it caused the back part to stick out wildly. She tempered the urge to flatten it back.

he leaned into her shoulder before continuing.

 

“I understand, thank you, I really do, and I promise to change, to work on this. It was wrong, I have been wrong, and I’m sorry. Truly Mia.”

She leaned her shoulder into his, applying the same pressure as he did.

 

“Thank you, and for what it's worth, I believe you can do it, I know you can. I forgive you, Jamie.”

 

He sniffled, before blurting out-

“Oh thank Merlin.”

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

Sirius felt like he was dying, there was no other way to describe the pain that was shooting through his body- it was unbearable, there was nothing that seemed to alleviate its punishing grasp. He had been asked several times through the day if he was okay, and every time he lied through his teeth and forced a smile on his face. He was shaking, sweating through his robes as he fought to stay upright. There was a sharp pain stabbing into his head that caused the bright light of the day to burn his grey eyes; even the soft candlelight was unforgiving. He had felt, had wondered if he was close to death many times, when the hunger controlled his every thought, when he’d wake up days later after blacking out from a severe session with Walburga. Nothing seemed to compare to the searing, debilitating heat that ran through his veins since the moment Hermione closed her magic to him, set her furiously golden gaze on him, and refused to speak, to look- to exist around him. There was always a small part of him that had felt her sitting right behind his ribs since the moment he had met her- when she made her declaration, it was as if that small piece that had attached itself to his soul died. This burning, this tearing feeling, ravaged him. He had barely made it to breakfast, but seeing Remus walk in arm and arm with her, to see him be graced with her brilliant smile, her attention, her touch filled him with a blinding rage. He was so confused- he couldn’t understand why it made him want to rip her from his arms, why he had to clamp his lips together to prevent him from uttering the hex on the tip of his tongue, or why he had to dig his nails into the table's wood to keep his hand from reaching for his wand. He had tried to find a moment to talk to her yesterday, but there had never been a moment that he could catch her alone. Her puffs had formed an impenetrable wall of yellow and black- something that caused a sneer to curl on his lips. Of course his head of house and Madam Pomfrey had also taken up his time trying to remove the hexes- he could endure, he could power through both as long as he got her to speak to him. He had to wait, to be patient, and that was the worst because it meant he’d have to feel like this for longer.

 

He loved his mates, he really did, but by the time dinner had come around and both James and Remus were blessed with her company-the odd thought of snapping their necks flashed across his mind. He was the largest between them at the moment, it wouldn’t take much force. He despaired, disgusted with the scenes his mind conjured- maybe this was the Black madness his family spoke about in hushed tones behind warded doors. He couldn’t help his blood, but he could beg her for relief.

 

It was night once again as he scoured the castle to find her. He had checked the library- her preferred spot after classes—the kitchens, her house, although the puff he spoke to seemed quite reluctant to tell him that she hadn’t made it back yet; he had finally relented at the low growl that escaped his lips. He tried to focus and calm his mind- allowing his magic to flail out, to seek, to hunt. It guided him past the castle walls to a small grove next to a stream near the owlery. The sun had been blinding, but under the night sky she shone in a golden glow that his body ached for. He drank in the sight of her sitting peacefully, admiring the stars. How he wished she would admire him now. She was his sun, as a helpless star, he was pulled into her orbit, pulled from the desolate cold waste of his life before her, and showered in a warmth that was unlike anything he had ever experienced. All she had done was introduce, guide him to more patches of warmth that brought joy and showed him a life he had never thought was possible. His sun goddess- maybe she would bless him once more.

He called out in reverence-

“Hermione”

 

She could feel a disturbance in the ambient magic; a desperate, withering thing was moving quickly toward her- her magic erratic, yet not for the reason she thought it would be. It was concerned, distressed, and pulling underneath her skin; she had felt off kilter since yesterday. When she heard her name, she turned to see a ghoulish version of the boys she had been quietly missing all day. He was sweating, breathing harshly with dark bags underneath his piercing grey eyes; his normally luscious hair, was dull and lay flat against his striking features. He looked horrible. He hardly ever used her name, always calling her princess- the reverent tone he had used would be scorched into her memory.

 

“Oh Siri- what’s wrong?”

 

It was the second time someone had knelt before her today, except this time her heart beat wildly in her chest as her eyes widened, shock and awe flowing through her instead of the irritated rage that dominated her emotions earlier. He was leaning forward, coming to place both hands on both sides of her body against the rock she was leaning against. He had caged her in, his head dropping the rest on her raised knees. His body was shivering as his head finally touched her body- her magic had enveloped his form, brushing against his core, willing it to respond. He sucked in air, his body relaxing in relief, sagging heavily against the points he could reach. His magic melted against hers.

 

“I’m so sorry, Hermione. Please forgive me, I can’t bear it.”

 

It was a desperate plea, whispered into the soft fabric of her skirt- forced through tortured lips. She couldn't help the blush that blossomed on her cheeks. He looked so broken, broken in a way she couldn’t bear to see. It broke all of her resolve. She placed her hand in his dark locks, running her fingers through them as she lightly scratched his scalp. She couldn’t help the satisfaction she felt when his body curled into her touch. She spoke softly as she took in his relaxed form.

 

“I promised you, Siri, I promised to push you back on the right path, that moment when you put your faith in me and confided that you didn’t want to be like your family. Being cruel, being thoughtless and rash, allowing your anger to guide you- that is what your family taught you. No more Siri.”

 

“I promise- I promise just don’t cut me off, don’t leave me again, please.” he whimpered. His arms lifted to wrap around her. She gently pushed his head as she readjusted to place her legs down; she guided him to rest his head in her lap- his arms relocating to tug her around her waist. It was a punishing grip; she could feel how his fingers threaded into the fabric of her jumper, his fists tight as if he was worried she’d pull away.

 

“I forgive you, Siri.”

 

She sat silently, allowing the warmth of his body to warm her from the slight chill. Her hand never leaving his hair as he shook in her lap, she could feel the moisture from his tears soaking through her skirt. She didn’t know how long they were out there under the stars, but he had looked as if he was reborn once she had awoken him to head back, the fatigue gone, his complexion returned to a healthier glow, his magic settled once more. His grip on her hand was just as punishing.

 

When she had undressed to head to bed, she was surprised to find a white Lily of the Valley in her robe pocket.

 

Her heart squeezed at the sight.

That brilliant, brilliant star.

Chapter 13: A Horse with No Name

Summary:

There is nothing that compares to a successful harvest

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

---

“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.”

― Heraclitus

---

March 31st, 1972 Hogwarts

 

It was a surreal view- something that she had never imagined she would see, never thought could be possible, something that could only be magic- and something that made her pinch her thigh viciously. There was a creeping anxiety that always lived within her, something that burrowed into her mind- a doubt that only voiced itself after every timeline change. This is just a dream- this isn’t real, you’re dead. You’re dead whispered from the lips of her bloodied form. It was like her own personal boggart. She stood on the edge of the field; they had found a secluded spot in the flatland between the castle and the Quidditch pitch-it was truly beautiful, the grass lush and green, flowers just starting to bloom under the afternoon sun as she watched the future marauders- specifically James shake hands with Severus Snape. There was an awkward way in which they stood, jerky movements with red-tipped ears- odd coughs, odd pauses as each side accepted the fragile truce, displaying a maturity well beyond their years. He was the last of the boys to give their apologies for the enmity between them and for the harm that had befallen them a few days before- for the harm they had cultivated over the year. Even Sirius, much to her surprise, had laid a gentle hand on Snape’s shoulder; he seemed unsure as he watched his mate try to explain why and how this had all started. Remus stood proudly with a sweet smile on his face, just as amazed and awed as she felt. She was so used to false apologies. To hear their words sound sincere, to experience their guilt and pleading, to accept it and take it into herself as truth, only to have them fall back into old predictable ways- into the same ways that hurt time and time again. To fail her in every meaningful way. It was difficult to let go of her insecurities, of the things she had been conditioned to, but she had promised- swore to herself—to push, to make the change, to demand a change this time. She was almost scared to accept how much everyone truly cared in this life.

 

Lily with her emerald eyes that seemed to shine like precious stones in the afternoon sun and blazing red hair that captured the eyes of those who passed by, stared with the same confusion and disbelief-along with a brimming wonderment at the situation. It had been easier to convince her that the boys had wanted to apologize; she was still good, still the same soul at her core that Harry and all those who met her espoused- she wanted it to be true more than she suspected that it wasn’t. Snape had called her barmy, had questioned and pushed through the multitudes of her assurances. Lily had shown up first, body tense as she gripped her wand, but slowly relaxed as she realized that it wasn’t another prank- but a genuine olive branch. She had caught her gaze multiple times through every apology, eyebrows raised as she seemed to ask “is this real?” She could only nod back, encouraging her to accept their boyish efforts. Snape had been harder to convince, requiring a second try, as she had cornered him after their first class. He had separated from Lily in the hopes of avoiding her-but in the end she had simply forced him through his continued snark, regurgitated complaints and commanded him to come. To determine if she was as barmy as he had claimed himself. He had simply followed after that, his obsidian eyes unable to raise from the rhythm of his heavy steps, paling as if he was a prisoner being led to his execution instead of his salvation. Body tense but allowing her to drag him by the hand to the field in which the boys waited. He was quiet, lips tightly pressed with a deep, pensive expression across his face as he took in each boy’s words, weighing them, dissecting them for falsity, as he scrutinized their microexpressions for possible deceit, his wand never leaving his firm grip. She believed he had found the truth in them as she saw his tense body posture melt more and more as their words seemed to resonate.

 

She could only hope that this lasted, that these troublesome lost boys could find shelter in each other- a reprieve from the loneliness, the abuse, the heavy oppressive thumb of their Hogwarts Houses that had cultivated each child’s unwillingness to release their manufactured prejudices. She wouldn’t be around as much after this year, their shared classes splitting off into the normal form- Gryffindors and Slytherins paired together, Hufflepuffs with Ravenclaws—and she would only have herbology with them going forward. Her mind raced in a catastrophic spiral- what if her continual presence is what kept this timeline alteration? What if removing her from their orbit allowed the original to try to snap itself back into place? Time and magic had always had a way of trying to correct itself. She pinched herself once more, forcing her expression to remain pleasant as she allowed the pain to travel through her body. She needed this direction to continue- wanted this direction to continue. Deep inside of her, a small, bushy-haired girl trembled with the thought that with time they’d simply wake up one day and realize she wasn’t worth the effort- wasn’t worth the thought or care. Was too unbearable, too unrelenting, too bossy- just another know-it-all, this time in yellow and black.

 

That she’d once more become Hermione Granger instead of Hermione Evans.

 

And that would be the cruelest magic of all.

 

May 29th, 1972 Hogwarts

 

How could she ever describe the beauty- the luminous glow of thousands of shooting stars that rained down upon the extravagant dinner spread, the kaleidoscope of light and stardust that brought tears to her eyes. The enchantments above the great hall had been charmed to show a vast night sky, filled with billions of twinkling stars, of multicolored galaxies, of celestial wonder as small embers of cosmic light shot through it. The candles that usually light the hall were replaced by bright constellations of milky, sparkling formations. As stars landed, they bounced and danced around those who dared to catch them, light changing from their translucent golden white to embody the house colors of the table they had landed on. Some changing forms into miniature versions of constellations that dared to tease, to taunt into play those who gazed upon them. The shocked silence once the charm had gone off transformed into a cornucopia of delighted awe, of contented wonderment. She was amazed at the beauty that could be created once a small harmony had been achieved with the Boys, Lily, and Snape.

 

It started small with nods in the hallways, tempered words, and uneasy partnerships- small acts of bravery and grace that allowed them to slowly learn to exist- unhindered, unprejudiced. The titles for a short while were worn like badges of honor by the more vicious students, but as time progressed and fewer and fewer fights occurred, the whole of the Hogwarts student body seemed to sigh in relief. To come together to make more inter-house connections and to unify against the small few that were almost nonredeemable. Hogwarts felt lighter, left safer than she had ever experienced- she nearly wept. It had allowed this delicate truce to mature into a firmer relationship; it gave them the proper environment to explore what they truly wanted. The Boys had invaded a late-night study session she had arranged with Lily and Snape in the library- they had wanted to pull off one great prank before the end of term, something so phenomenal that it would be spoken about for months, if not years. Although Snape sneered, he would quietly write out possible spell combinations, passing them nonchalantly to Remus before returning to his reading. Lily would argue the ethics of charmed combustion in a limited space with James, Sirius would watch with a lazy smile on his face as he quickly tied all of their rants and contributions together into something workable. It had taken a while to steer them in a direction that was less prank and more bedazzlement, but once they had a whisper of an idea - the possibility to hold stars, to bring what seemed so unattainable to most wizards into reality—they had poured their souls into it to make it work, bouncing off more ideas, picking apart the theories and charms needed. In the end they would always find their way back to her, pleading to “just look it over.” There were always hints and displays of diabolical intelligence with the marauders- Lily and Snape lauded as masters in their own ways in the past—and now all of their brilliance, their wildness unrestrained and combined, brought about a moment that would live forever in the hearts and minds of all those blessed to experience it.

 

By the end of the enchantment-above each table was the house crest immortalized in constellation form. After some time the night waned, and they slowly faded into a brilliant sunrise. One by one students began to rise, clapping in awe at the display of magic, the teachers joining in, Flitwick had already charmed a piece of paper to try to document the spell combination- she smiled as she noticed them all one by one stand and take a bow. The looks of admiration and awe even from the Slytherin table were just a testament to the magnitude of the changes. She took in the stoic form of Dumbledore, he slowly stood as he clapped along- his form, however, tense, his twinkling eyes too bright; her magic picked up on his dissatisfaction. He did not seem as enthused with the harmonious atmosphere as she was. She studied him intensely; horrifying thoughts crossed her mind- she was only a 12-year old here, although she did have her past life, she could hardly compare herself to one of the brightest wizards in centuries. By her small efforts alone, she had been able to correct the growing hostilities- to temper them—yet this man, this embodiment of excellence, had done nothing. Had in his own way encouraged and cultivated the rot she had seen- had experienced. She had suspected with Harry, had ensured that she would offer up what information she hoped would temper his actions, yet her mind flashed to a single picture buried in her memories, one displayed in a bloodied frame - Two young men smiling as they embraced, one with blond hair and blue eyes, the other with similar twinkling orbs and auburn hair.

He had caught her gaze.

 

She occluded as she stared at the tapestries behind him. Dread filled her as her mind raced to reevaluate.

 

This was not the humbled, wizened wizard of a failed wizarding war, not a man steeped in regrets over the lives that had perished under his direction with the knowledge that the monster would rise again. But the emboldened leader, holder of a Medal of Merlin First Class, The Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, The Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot- The Grand Sorcerer. The same wizard that had stalled to allow his terrorist lover to wreak havoc across Europe, unable to raise his wand until forced, or so he wanted others to believe- the same wizard that had helped deny sanctuary to a troubled orphan boy in an abusive home in the middle of the worst Muggle war in history simply because he wore a green tie.

 

As they celebrated around her, her mind remained in a haze as she feared she might have miscalculated with one of the most dangerous pieces on the board.

 

June 16th, 1972 Hogwarts

 

The train whistle blared loudly as it began to jerk forward; there were still a few last-minute stragglers running to find an empty compartment. Laughter rang out as students settled in for the long journey back to platform 9 3/4. Hermione sat near the compartment window; she had swapped her cartography book out with another on advanced warding for dark artifacts, Sirius’s head situated in her lap as he chatted with the boys about Gryffindor's Quidditch Cup win. He had become exceedingly clingy, not that she minded considering what she knew of his home life- James and Remus, sometimes even Snape, gave him a bit of a roasting when he started to hover too much. He had taken it in stride, joking about how he was her personal escort in this new kingdom. Hufflepuff had only lost the House Cup to Slytherin by a measly 10 points; it was a small victory in her mind, but all her points couldn’t make up the gap. Gryffindor came in third, and Ravenclaw took last place; Lily had lamented over it immensely. Snape had been smug for days, and it had started to be irritating enough that she had wondered if she should find some way to humble him. But she had lost the desire once she saw how he had started to withdraw in on himself; only after a significant amount of gentle pestering did he confess to what was wrong- he had received a letter from his mother just before the end of term. Tobias was back. She had written to her parents and covertly asked if he could join them for a few days to start the summer- her mother was especially enthusiastic to agree. He had regained some color after she had pulled him aside to let him know.

 

“Oi, you’ll try to come over, won’t you? There’s a pretty big field in the back of my house, and we can practice for quidditch tryouts next year.”

James nudged Sirius’s leg hanging off the seat with the tip of his shoe. Sirius tensed, she gently scratched his scalp near the base of his neck, and the tension lessened.

 

“I can’t promise anything yet since my parents are barmy, but if I can, I’ll be there.”

James slightly appeased with his answer, turned to nudge Remus.

 

“The invitations are also for you, mate, and Mia, of course. You can come fly or just hang out in the library- I’m sure you two massive swots would enjoy that.”

he offered, eyes wide in hope. Before either could reply, he stuttered out.

 

“And, you know what, try to see if the snake and the claw want to come as well, they honestly haven’t been that bad this year.”

He ran his hands through his messy locks before adjusting his glasses.

 

“I’ve got to check with my parents, but I’ll definitely see if I can come. I can't let you guys have all the fun on your own.”

 

Remus replied as he munched on a handful of Berties Botts Every Flavor Beans. The trolley had run out of chocolates by the time it had reached them; he had moped before hesitantly selecting them.

 

“I definitely think I can convince my parents to let us come over. Actually, that reminds me, I have something for you guys.” She tapped the top of Sirius’s arm with her finger and then gestured to her bag on the floor. He picked it up and held it out so she could grab inside of it. As she rummaged through her bag, Remus choked violently, nearly vomiting as he groaned out.

 

“Ugggrhhh-blegh rotten egg. What in Merlin’s name would possess them to include that?”

James and Sirius laughed, their giggles increasing in volume as they watched Remus frantically try to rub his tongue with his jumper. They had warned him, but he had insisted that his sweet tooth needed to be appeased. She tried to contain her own laugh, his dramatic faces making it difficult to concentrate, so she opted to use a wandless accio for a piece of chocolate. Taking pity on him, she tossed him the bar. He stared at her in shock and disbelief, slightly betrayed that she had allowed him to try the beans when she had been holding out the entire time. She stuck her hand back in to accioing three different colored journals. Sirius set her bag back on the floor as he looked up in anticipation.

 

“I know we can owl each other, but I decided to make it a little easier to keep in touch over the summer, or really any time.”

She handed each boy a journal- red for James, green for Remus, and black for Sirius. They stared at them, puzzled.

 

“They’re all connected, all you have to do is write the name of the person you want to speak to first, and then it will show up in their journal. It will vibrate and warm when there is a message you haven’t read. Now if you want something a little more private, all you have to do is prick your finger and place a drop of blood on the leather. It’s charmed to look like something else to snoopers, but you never know.”

She looked down, directly into Sirius’s eyes. His gaze softened as he comprehended her message. She hoped they wouldn’t be turned off by the slight hint of blood magic. But they simply gaped in surprise.

 

“Blimey, every time I get used to you doing some crazy magical feat, you go and top it- this is brilliant Mia.”-James gushed, flipping it over back and forth as if it would reveal its secrets, Sirius just slowly traced his finger along the leather cover.

 

Remus, enthralled by the journal, laid it in his lap, and then he lifted his wand from his robe pockets- before he could utter an incantation, Hermione urged him to look inside. He paused, laying his wand back down before opening his to see a single free sheet of parchment wedged between the pages.

 

“I knew you’d be curious about how it was made, so I wrote down the process. It’s not all of it, but half the fun is figuring out the missing pieces.”

 

“You really are the best, Mia.”

“HEY, you said I was the best just yesterday after you-” James yelped out as Remus elbowed him hard.

 

“Read the room, tosser!”

 

The look of sheer disappointment and resignation on Remus’s face was enough for her to finally lose it. They really had been working on toning down his ridiculousness. James pouted for the longest she’d ever seen, a whole 30 minutes, before breaking and asking the boys if they wanted to play exploding snap. Remus joined in, while Sirius, content to remain in her lap, held tightly onto the journal. They played for a while, before testing out the journals. She was even graced with a very artistic interpretation of what she could only describe was a concept of a kneazle from James. She had really hoped that was what it was because he seemed awfully proud of it. She praised it all the same.

 

They had changed into their casual clothes by the time they neared the station. Her magic swelled in order to calm Sirius, it was like every inch the train took, the tighter his body clenched, the more pale he would become, his magic projecting his growing unease, reaching out for hers unconsciously- she could only help so much as he seemed to wind himself up more and more. James and Remus unaware of their spiraling friend. He had held her hand in a punishing grip as they exited the train, his eyes wildly scanning for his family in the crowd. Once he saw them standing further down the platform, he turned and hugged her, arms wrapping around her tightly as he clung to her one last time before letting go and joining the boys fully. She raised her hand to cool the heat on her cheeks, hoping no one had noticed before taking a step forward onto the platform.

 

“Hermione Love! Over here!”

Her father called as he waved her over, Lily and Severus had already found them, both chatting with her mother as Rose poked and prodded, rubbing cheeks or arms in happiness. She walked forward to pull onto James robes as he was the closest. He turned, smiling as she opened her arms to give him a hug; he eagerly hugged her back. Reassuring him that she would write before pointing to her parents. He looked around in their direction before spotting them and giving a very enthusiastic wave. Her father scowled while her mother simply returned his smile and wave with equal fervor. Remus had started to tense as he saw his father appear out of the crowd in the opposite direction. She pulled him into a hug as well and forced a promise from him to write- even when it was the worst. She wanted to know how he fared. He nodded reluctantly before verbally agreeing.

 

“Sirius.”

He had been standing behind them, simply staring at the ominous group draped in black marching steadily up the platform, before he took a deep inhale, turning to meet her gaze.

 

“Remember what I told you, and please write.”

 

“I will, I promise.”

He kissed his pinky and gave her a roguish smirk.

 

She left him with a blinding smile before turning to join her family. The car ride back was filled with music and stories about the pranks the boys had thrown that year. Even Severus begrudgingly complimented some of the complicated charm work toward the end of the ride, not leaving out that it was mostly his work that helped turn some of their more outlandish plans into reality. He had started to mellow out as Louis casually mentioned that he had arranged for him to spend the first week with them, only reaffirming what she had told him earlier- his mother had already sent over some clothes and supplies. When the topic moved onto how they did- She had easily swept the floor with her grades and remained the top student for the year, something her parents praised and gushed about- it had only mildly annoyed Lily after she mentioned to them that she was in second place. Severus was once again morose after mentioning he came in fourth after Remus. Lily asked about Petunia, and her mother stated that she was waiting at home. They had worried they all wouldn’t fit in the car- so she had graciously offered to stay behind and wait on the pizza they had ordered. Hermione snickered because she knew that Petunia truly hated being squished or elbowed in the car, plus the last time they had hung out, she wasn’t terribly fond of Severus. As they drove along, the rays from the sun warmed her face, lulling her into a light nap.

 

Once they made it home, they celebrated with pizza and a game night, scrabble, monopoly, risk and cards. Severus had opted to tap out over several losses, choosing to read his text on advanced position making on the window seat near the kitchen table. Petunia was absolutely dominating the board in Monopoly, bankrupting half the family nearly five times over. Even Hermione had opted for reading her cartography book after going bankrupt for the third time- forcing Severus from her coveted window seat into a less comfy lounge chair. Petunia had gushed and cried about how she had missed them as soon as they walked through the door- the journals had helped, but the reality of waking each day to a abnormally silent house had worn her down. Not being able to tell the truth to her friends about where they went to school while fending off passive-aggressive comments on why she didn't get into a “private” boarding school had tormented her as well. As she took in her sister's fretting form, Hermione wondered if she should try to make a form of communication mirror like the original Marauders did- words could be comforting, but sight, being able to see instead of imagine, might just bridge the gap.

 

 

Later that night when she had started to unpack, she felt the slight warmth of her journal in her bag as she brushed against it. Pulling it out, she sat down on her bed and opened it up to read. It was a message from Sirius, written in his elegant scrawl.

 

“Thank you, Princess.”

underneath was a stunningly detailed drawing of a Forget Me Not.

 

 

 

DARK FUTURE ON THE HORIZON

WIZARDING BRITAIN'S BRIGHTEST EMIGRATE

JUNE 24TH, 1972

Article by: Herald Sinclair and Isobel Cartwright

Lead Prophet Investigator and Field Arithimancer

 

I come once more bearing grim news, this time with a colleague-once more unmarked, untraceable gifts bearing news I was content to not know but horrified to learn, ruining my last Sunday breakfast with a gripping flair. I write to you now nearly a week later after confirming the damning report, one that was confirmed by our very own Minister of Magic, Eugena Jenkins (see attached correspondence).

 

In the last 35 years, Britain’s finest Witches and Wizards have emigrated out of the country. How do we know this? A detailed record of graduates from Hogwarts, all students in the top 10 percent that have emigration and international portkey requests filed with the Ministry shortly after their entrance into adulthood. On average it takes as little as six months to two years before they are ready to jump ship, so to speak. But what is the reason for this abandonment? After reaching out to several individuals and reviewing the numerous correspondences provided- there is a common theme. Prejudice, Oppression, and Opportunity.

 

Why? The majority of our brightest are not from our sacred 28, not from other Pureblood families, but Half-Bloods and Muggleborns. Now do not get me wrong- I am not here to simply debase Purebloods, only to shine a light on the truth of our reality. From the detailed scoring reports of our N.E.W.T.S and Hogwarts grade ranking reports, our Pureblood citizens do not fall far behind, but they are behind nonetheless (listed on pages 5-6). Surprisingly, in major areas like Magical Theory, History, Arithmancy, Herbology, Charms, and Transfiguration. After speaking at length with our Field Arithimancer Isobel and several other ministry analysts, they credit this possible lead to Muggle primary schools and curriculum in Math's and Sciences. To the cultivation of curiosity to understand a new world and the pressure of being held to a higher standard in order to be accepted.

I have provided a few of explanations below (see attached)

One especially horrific reason was a young Muggle-born girl that had freshly graduated in 1962 with a spectacular 8 outstandings in her N.E.W.T.S was blacklisted for denying a prominent heir that had requested she be his Mistress. There was not a single store in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley that would accept her-She had been denied even small clerical roles in the Ministry, and when she pressed, the superior interviewing her simply told her-

 

“You know why, Mudblood. He wanted to let you know that he would still take you if you changed your mind.”

(See attached confirmation of memory review by D.O.D)

 

Could you imagine the uproar? Could you imagine the rage that would fill the minds of every wizarding father- every wizarding parent—if they had learned that their daughter had been harassed and denied in such a fashion?

But all we can do is Imagine- for this young girl was overlooked and discarded. She emigrated to France, where she now works as an international logistics and wand core procurement specialist with a dabble of creature liaison for the French Ministry. They have been the leading government in quality in the past 10 years-one can only ask, would we be leading if we had not denied her at every opportunity? Would we be stagnating at the rate we have been if we had not forced out some of the best minds over the last few decades over blood purity?

 

Now this prospect is grim, but to some who hold the ideology of blood purity, this might be considered a win- a successful “preservation” of the wizarding community. This is simply an ax held to the necks of the future of Wizarding Britain because this is combined with the latest review on birthrate reports. Britain’s fertility rate, or commonly referred to as FTR in St.Mungos reports have dropped to 1.5 per woman- per family; this is well below the replacement rate necessary for the health and survival of a country. To give you an idea, pre-Grindlewald and the large shift toward blood purity, Britain sat at a healthy 2.5 per woman- per family. What is even more unsettling is that this number has wild variations, some families, like the Prewitts, Weasleys, MacKinnons, Shacklebolts, Norringtons, Roberts, Wilsons, Joneses, Boneses, Hendersons, Nottinggales, and Islingers, have much higher FTR rates that spike our averages; without them, we would be sitting much lower.

 

What does this mean?

 

Those fresh to our community are leaving en masse, those residing here are not able to continue their lines- Soon we will be a collection of elderly Witches and Wizards trapped in the nostalgia of better times, clawing for a future that is no longer sustainable- no longer attainable. A cruel death orchestrated by our own hands.

 

The ideology of Blood Purity and those who have upheld it has once again strangled the life and hope of Britain.

 

I leave you once again with the evidence and now with a name. Our anonymous source has graced us.

 

Aletheia

 

How fitting that the Goddess of Truth, of revealing, of reality, of disclosure, has unveiled some of Britain’s darkest truths.

 

“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”

Notes:

Thank you all for the wonderful comments and sticking with me. I'm realizing this turning into a longer story but there is so much that goes into breaking down the culture of a community and laying the foundations for long term success. If any of you are ever curious about the chapter titles- they are all songs from the same era. They all fit the theme of each chapter.

I'm sorry- Brenda lee
Runaway- Del Shannon
Vienna- Billy Joel
All Along the Watch Tower-Jimi Hendrix
Dolly Dagger- Jimi Hendrix
The Long and Winding Road- The Beatles
Across the Universe- The Beatles
Shine a Light- The Rolling Stones
Another Brick in the Wall- Pink Floyd
You Really Got Me- The Kinks
Sunny Afternoon- The Kinks
Instant Karma- John Lennon
A Horse with no Name -America, George Martin

Chapter 14: House of the Rising Sun

Summary:

There are creatures that may trample through your garden- The experienced Gardner knows how to ward them off

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

TW: Child abuse, Torture, Domestic Abuse, Implied Sexual Assault (only referenced not described)

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“Human madness is oftentimes a cunning and most feline thing. When you think it fled, it may have but become transfigured into some still subtler form.”- Herman Melville

---

 

June 16th, 1972 Grimmauld Place

 

There was a frigid chill that had run through his veins, goosebumps erupting all over as he battled the tremors building in his muscles as the monstrous pale claws painted in red dug into the skin of his shoulder- the Banshee in human form, draped in elegant black robes, its long blackish-brown hair pulled and styled in elaborate braids and curls- layered in generational jewels, pulled him along the platform. Did no one see it but him? The beast that hid beneath a human facade, blessed with a human smile, a human voice but lacking a human soul. It was all smiles as it leaned against him, a ploy to blend into the mob of humans around it. The pain from his shoulder was nothing compared to the terror of the sharp wand digging into his side-it had whispered so devilishly in his ears in such a horrific shrieking way as soon as it located him on the platform, Orion and his brother unaware of the creature they escorted. Fooled by the way it mimicked a doting wife and lovable mother. It’s normally pale lips painted in blood-red lipstick as it flashed its fanged smile-its eyes, its eyes were black.

 

“If you make a fuss, you’ll regret it. I warned you, Sirius, I warned you.”

 

His heart beat rapidly, beat harshly in his chest as he could feel a bruising pain in his sternum as it raced. As they neared the apparaition point, it only dug its nails in deeper, emitting a cackling laugh from its lips as a witty critique from Orion toward another lesser family captured its attention momentarily. He wanted to cry out, wanted to ask for help, but his tongue felt like lead in his mouth, his jaw tensed and pressed so tightly he feared he would crack his teeth. It had urged Orion to take Regulus a head, Kreacher was dutifully waiting on them, and it could certainly handle a side-along apparation. He had wished that they weren’t so easily fooled as they agreed to heed its words. He felt so alone even though they were surrounded by hundreds of witches and wizards- it seemed that this creature had disillusioned its true nature too well. It yanked him forward before the wand that dug into his side emitted a light stinging jinx, He bit his tongue to keep from crying out. It had smiled, truly delighted as it watched his face contort into pain. Its torturous grip moved from his shoulder and trailed along his clammy neck as it suddenly burrowed into his black locks- tightening to the point of ripping out a few strands, it forced his head down as the oppressive swirl and clenching pressure of apparation forced them from the platform.

 

He was screaming, his voice tearing through the delicate flesh of his throat as he thrashed on the ground, hot blood gushed from his right shoulder- flesh mangled and shredded in a long slice. His uniform was torn apart from the sheer force of the splinching. His mind writhing in agony, he had never felt anything as painful as this, his heart clenching in his chest, this breath catching in his throat as it fought for space between his desperate cries. There was yelling now- Orion and Arcturus, there were hands now, large calloused hands that tried to hold him in place. Trying to stop the rushing flow of blood, he could barely make out the spells they used, barely think between the sharp stabbing pains. They had demanded to know what happened pleaded to know what had gone wrong. Pushing through the delirium of his mind, he answered.

 

“It let go! It let go! It pushed me away!” He confessed, tears and snot choking his words.

 

There was crying, it was Reggie. Poor Reggie, he shouldn’t have to see me die like this, he thought. That small piece of Hermione in his chest flared, rushing to provide some warmth against the growing cold- his magic condensing, coiling tight into its embrace. The pain lessened.

 

It was laughing hysterically as the men both tried to seal his wound, clapping in merriment as it circled around his pale form. It was stalking, circling its prey as the smell and sight of blood fed its monstrous craving.

 

“How Won-der-ful! How Lo-v-ely! I warned you, I warn-ed yooou Siri-us. Toujours Pur- Tou-jours P-ur! ”It singsonged in its shrill, cracking voice. The men were yelling now at it, accusing it, demanding it explain. But how could a beast know the reasoning of men? It had no soul to feel, it had only mimicked the words and form. Its eyes dilated as it took in the rolling tears pouring from his face- it’s wand raised in a split second as its foul lips formed the cursed words.

 

“Cruci-”

“Stupefy!”- It was a desperate cry from Arcturus that landed true. The beast was felled.

He struggled to stay conscious as they worked, but the sharp stabbing pain of Arcturus’s hand as he applied more pressure to the wound caused his vision to waver, and then nothing but blackness.

 

“Orion, what in Merlin’s name is going on?” Arcturus commanded through clenched teeth as he pressed down on Sirius’s wound, it had wrapped from the front of his collarbone to the back of his shoulder. Orion, a normally stoic man, was pale and shaking as he stuttered out the healing charms required to close the wound. Cursing as his magic sputtered and failed a few times before working- his nerves preventing him from casting as strongly.

 

“I don’t know, I-she had been nothing but vicious since he was sorted into Gryffindor, It got worse each time a letter from Narcissa came- but she had calmed down closer to the end of the semester. Dammit, Kreacher- I need bandages.”

The grubby old elf seemed to hesitate, a delightful glee in its eyes as it took in the bloodied hands of Orion snapping at him.

 

“Kreacher, I said bandages NOW!”

 

Kreacher bared its teeth at Orion before snapping his fingers- a tray of bandages and ointments appeared on the floor next to Sirius’s prone form. Regulus sat on the floor, his back to the wall as he rocked slightly, hands tightly gripping his hair while silent tears fell. His grey eyes reflected the shock and disgust from seeing the look of delight on Kreacher’s face before shaking his head side to side as he closed his eyes and wept.

 

“Is this all because of his sorting? A undesirable house isn’t cause enough to intentionally force a splinching? Any higher, and he would have arrived decapitated, Orion. She had tried to kill him- to curse him to death with that cruico. Why Toujours Pur Orion?”

 

His face turning red, veins along his forehead bulging in anger as he pulled Sirius’s limp form up to allow Orion to wrap bandages around his wound. Orion tensed as he rushed to wrap the wound, he was twitchy and nervous as he was scrutinized under Arcturus’s heavy gaze.

 

“EXPLAIN ORION- EXPLAIN WHY I HAVE THE HEIR OF MY HOUSE LAYING BLOODIED IN THE PARLOR.”

His magic was crackling now-how dare this lowly brat not answer him? Orion flinched and pulled away, nearly dropping the bandages, before answering.

 

“He was reported to have made friends with a Blood traitor, two Half bloods and two Muggle-borns. He has always been stubborn, always been curious of them- we tried, I swear we tried to curb him of it but his sorting- that bloody fucking sorting—only made it worse.”

It was as if the Dementors had come; the air in the room had been doused in frigid magic that sucked all of the emotion from the room. The silence pressed upon the occupants. Orion silently finished Sirius’s bandages before stepping back. Arcturus's face was blank- his frosty silver-blue eyes narrowed on the pale, almost gray face of his grandchild, splayed out like a sacrifice of olde, he was occluding as he studied his features. They were strong, sharp- the most distinguishable of the Black family features since his family’s conception- more black than any other. His calloused hands tightening on his slender arms before slowly loosening, taking one hand from his shoulders, he cradled his head as he gently placed him on the floor before standing himself. He seemed to contemplate his bloodied hands, turning them over to stare at his palms- it led his gaze to the pool of blood at his feet, splattered across the bottom of his robes and pants. His head turned to take in the stupefied form of his niece draped across the parlor floor and the terrified rocking form of his youngest grandchild under a tapestry depicting a witch being burned at the stake. His only son stood while staring blankly into the void of blackness in the hall, trying his hardest to ignore the pressure of his magic. Phineas’s words ringing in his ears.

 

“You are supposed to be the “guard.” You are the guiding voice and firm wand that directs this family!”

 

He had been named after the Guardian constellation; his father, Sirius Black the II- the namesake of his bloodied grandchild—had fervently wished he would bring prosperity and stability to his house. He had failed him, allowed the direction of the House to stagnate and fester. No more- he would not tolerate it any longer.

 

“Alton”

 

“Yes, master calls?” - A spry, cleanly dressed elf in tailored robes appeared.

“Go to vault 700 and bring me back the Gilles de Rais.” Arcturus’s deep voice commanded.

“Most certainly, master.”

 

It was only a moment before Alton popped back into the house, bearing a black box with no markings. The elf bowed slightly as it brought the box forward; with a snap of his fingers, he cleaned Arcturus’s hands of blood and conjured a small table to place the box on.

 

“Will you need anything else, Master?”

 

“Yes, clean Sirius and change him into more comfortable clothes after you take him to his room. Clear it of any malicious curses or jinxes you find. Give him a blood replenisher, pain and invigoration potion from my stores at the manor. Monitor him and let me know if anything worsens.”

 

The elf bowed before levitating Sirius and taking him back to his room.

 

Arcturus walked forward to the small table holding the box and opened it, inside nestled on black velvet, was an unremarkable goblin silver necklace. Its thin, delicate chain came together to it hold one obsidian stone in a metal oval embellished in golden stenciling.

 

“Regulus, come here.”

 

He waited patiently, hand extended as Regulus sniffled and tried to wipe his face- his legs shaking as he fumbled to heed his patriarch's request. His eyes glassy, his nose red as he passed Walburga and Orion to take Arcturus’s hand.

 

“I wish you had not been subjected to what you have been today- I do not know what other questionable methods have been employed in this house, but you will be protected, and your brother will be protected from this moment forward. I will need just a drop of blood, I will numb your finger first so you will not feel a thing. Do you understand?”

 

Regulus simply nodded, eyes wide and questioning. Orion, finally paying attention, looked on confused at his father's actions. He had expected him to blast Sirius off the tapestry in a blinding rage, so like the rages he had held Walburga back from- not heal him. Not protect him. Arcturus lifted his wand and muttered two spells in quick succession- a small bead of blood pooled on the tip of Regulus’s finger. He guided Regulus to stand over the box and pressed lightly on his finger to allow the buildup of blood to drop onto the gem on the necklace. There was a hissing noise from the piece, and a small bit of black smoke rose as Arcturus healed Regulus’s hand and ordered Kreacher to take him to his room. Once he was done, he turned and knelt behind him- careful to not dirty his clothes again, he swiped his finger through the remainder of Sirius’s blood on the parlor floor before turning and repeating the process he had with Regulus.

 

“Bring her here, Orion.” His silver eyes flashing to the unconscious Walburga. Orion levitated her form closer to Arcturus. His father unclasped the necklace and placed it around her pale throat, once secured, he lifted his wand.

 

“Quorum sanguinem et immolavit contain- caeca nocebit ultra per magica vel.”

 

Heavy golden chains appeared from his wand as they wrapped themselves tightly around the necklace, binding it to her in a flash before vanishing.

 

“I, Arcturus Octans Black III, have bound Walburga Black for the crime of violence against the Heir of my House, my witness is my son, Orion Black. She will be unable to remove this piece unless it is done by my hand; it will prevent her from harming Sirius or Regulus through Magic or her own Hands. Orion- should she still act against my wishes, the punishment will fall on both of you- Do you understand?”

 

“Yes patriarch.” Orion nodded as his head bowed.

 

“Remove her from my sight, I will stay until Sirius awakens.” He sighed out, his hands waving Orion off in dismissal. Orion floated Walburga down the hall to their rooms while Arcturus moved to sit in the only chair in the parlor. His body melted into the weathered cushions as he brought his hands to run through his sweaty hair before running them back down his face.

 

Woe is the madness in the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.

 

It was late in the day before Sirius woke up, his whole body pulsing in pain as if he had been run over by a hippogriff. His mind raced as he remembered why he was in such agonizing pain. Walburga, his mother, had tried to kill him- not just harm him but end his life. Tears bubbled to the surface, he couldn’t help the loud sobs that escaped his lips- he closed his watery eyes and tried to concentrate on the small ball of warmth radiating in his chest. He was alive, he was alive. A small, wrinkled hand trailed a path over his cheeks and forehead- he started as his grey eyes took in the sight of his grandfather's personal elf.

 

“Shh, shh young master, all’s better now- Master says you must take some potions to help. Just three.”

Alton slowly levitated each vial into his hands, uncapping them when his shaking hands couldn’t grip the lids tight enough to remove them. The first two caused him to gag and cry out as the sharp jerking caused pain to spike from his shoulder. But after the pain potion, all the hurt had simply receded. He felt worn as if he had run an entire quidditch pitch field.

 

“I must report to Master that you’re awake. Do you need anything before I go, young master?

“Could- Could you find my black journal? I need it.”

The elf nodded before snapping his fingers, and his journal appeared in his lap, a quill lay on his side table before it disapparated. The pain potion had helped with the shaking in his hands, he gingerly wrote a brief message before concentrating on sketching a flower. Once done, he cocked his head to try to see the part of his shoulder that was damaged. It was still bandaged; just a little bit of wet blood remained. As he closed the journal, he reached up and dragged his fingers across the bloodied bandages, picking up a small amount, he rubbed it on the cover of the journal. It hissed before vanishing. He opened his side table drawer and placed it inside before bringing both hands up to cover his face. The tears had started once more, but this time he fell asleep emotionally drained and physically numb. He had hoped this wouldn’t scar.

 

June 25th, 1972 Malfoy Manor Annual Charity Gala, Wiltshire, England

 

Masked faces danced and twirled under crystallized lights, surrounded by towering displays of floral pieces, thousands of white lilies, and soft lilac bouquets wrapped in embroidered silk, brushed with lightened fairy dust that gave off a sparkling shine. The chandeliers decorated with long hanging wisteria, charmed to rain petals onto the guests before before vanishing. Silver plated trays hovered around the room, drinks being directed by numerous suited house elves wearing white masks and off white togas. The ceiling had been charmed to display floating candles nestled in intricate silver holders. The grand ivory walls of the ball room adorned with delicate white woodwork, depicting wisteria trees and flowerful fields. Grand ash wood tables lined in a soft creme patterned silk layered with decadent treats and rich elaborate meals. The chairs wrapped in more silk, arranged in elaborate bows that flowed to the ground. All though the guests were surrounded by opulence and finery, there was a apprehensive pressure in the air. Smiles tight, eyes cautious, and conversations stilted- in the darkened corners of the room and in barely whispered tones they commented on the amount of guests that had declined to come, on the pale faces of the hosts, on the striking figure dressed in all black that seemed to command multiple men who fluttered about the room- How he stood ominously on the balcony that overlooked the room. Could the reports be true? Could the Malfoy’s be supporting the Dark lord that had caused so much harm? Why did they wear long sleeves in the middle of the summer- could they be branded with the mark? Although cooling charms existed, the whimsical summer gala had always featured shorter robes and more airy dresses. As the night grew longer the guests laughed and danced in merriment, basking in the grand wealth being shared with them.

 

In a heavily wooded study nestled in the heart of the manor the Lord of the House writhed on the floor screaming, unimaginable pain tearing through him as if thousand white hot knives had penetrated his skin, bones searing as if they were on fire-his head felt like it was being pried open by a rabid werewolf. His lord’s eyes glowing red against the light as he held his bone like wand while the harsh red curse

gave him no mercy. There were others witnessing his punishment, other knights stationed around the room as they knelt awaiting their lords command. Blood began to leak from Abraxas’s nose as he continued to thrash on the floor, his lord merely tilted his head as if studying an insect before ending the curse. He sneered as his knight sobbed and sucked in air as he tried to right himself. He turned his back to Abraxas crossing his arms behind his back with his wand gripped in his hands, red eyes focused on the family portrait hanging behind the desk he stood in front of.

 

“Do you know why you had to be punished Abraxas?”

it was a menacing hiss that demanded his answer.

 

“I-I failed you Milord.”

 

“And how did you fail me?”

 

Abraxas rushed to wipe the blood trickling from his nose as he repositioned himself back into the same kneeling form as the other knights.

 

“I failed to find the information you requested, failed to find who is leaking information to the papers.”

 

He bowed his body down, his forehead resting on the wood floor in supplication.

 

“You, are one of the first knights I allowed within my circle, one that until now I believed that you were the most capable.”

His pointer finger tapping against the knot in his wand in irritation.

 

“I am so sorry Milord, it is my desperate wish to fulfill your command, but who ever this Aletheia is has securely covered their tracks. I even peaked into the mind of the reporter what he has written about the unmarked, untraceable delivery is true. He has no knowledge outside what has been delivered to him.”

 

“I used to simply know that you would not fail, not make mistakes, not have to question your competency- I cannot now. You oblivated him correct?” He finally turned to set his furious glare on Abraxas’s prostrated form once more.

 

“Yes Milord- he will never know that we met or that he was questioned.”

 

His tall, ominous form slithering closer, his steps silent as he seemed to float and circle around his knight- there was a black, pulsating violence to his magic; a heinous aura leaked out of his body that ensnared the mind of those in his presence.

 

“Bring me Lucius.”

 

Abraxas startled as he whipped his head up; he looked in disbelief at his lord, eyes searching the faces of the other knights in the room- each blank, each unwilling to garner the ire of their lord. Yaxley, the knight closest to the door, stood bowed in Voldemort's direction before hastily leaving the room to fulfill his command. It took only a moment before Yaxley returned with an apprehensive Lucius. His blue eyes taking in the form of his battered father before occluding and bowing his head.

 

“Milord, I heard you called for me; I rushed to be of service.”

 

Voldemort studied his face, his posture, and his tone intensely before replying.

 

“Your father has failed me- you who have recently come into my service must assist him in his task. You are to help find out who Aletheia is and bring them to me. I will show you what will happen if you and your father displease me again.”

 

“As you wish, Milord.”

 

“Crucio”

 

Abraxas wailed in agony once more. Voldemort studied Lucius- he took notice of the tightening of his jaw and fists, the almost imperceptible movement of him reaching for his wand. The blond bastard was able to conceal quite a bit of his resentment, but not enough to satisfy him- with his plans crumbling, he had to weed out those who were true followers and those who carried weak wills and weak hearts. He knew that there was no information on Aletheia; he had investigated it personally well before he had assigned Abraxas this task-this was simply a means to an end. Dissension in his ranks would be snuffed out.

 

June 27th, 1972 Snape Residence, Spinner End, Cokesworth

 

It was blistering hot with the midday sun bathing the house in unobstructed heat. Eileen shuffled gingerly around the house; her ribs were bruised again, there was a sharp pinching pain in her left knee, and she could hardly see out of her right eye- it had swelled shut, no amount of compresses could help for now. She struggled to open the windows to allow some airflow into the house. Tobias had left once he had ransacked the house for money, but not before beating her bloody once again, storming off into the night once he’d had his fill. He had come home so apologetic, so sweet as he begged her for forgiveness; he’d even cleaned up this time, bringing her favorite flowers as well- she was weak when he seemed so sober, so like the man she had first married. But all it took was him taking one look at the dinner she had cooked for him for him to flip- he had raged at how she dared to burn the edges of his shepherd's pie. She was so grateful to the Evanses for them taking in Severus while she dealt with her husband. She had wizened up and asked the Evans to open a bank account for her shortly after Severus left for school, giving them an envelope every time she received her pay or spare cash. It was in their name so Tobias couldn’t withdraw anything if he found out- she trusted them immensely now; she had complete faith that they wouldn’t swindle her. It was hard at first, allowing someone in to see the shame she dealt with. Rose, sweet Rose, even offered to send out money to directly pay their bills instead of withdrawing it and bringing it back to the house to hand over. They were so close to catching up, to finally stop living on bare scraps and actually being able to have money left over- this beating was a setback, one of many orchestrated by the man who should have loved her. It was harder still to be around Louis; he had never given her any indication that he was like her husband, but there was something about his tall, muscular frame that still gave her anxiety- the thought that he was so much larger than Tobias tickled her fight or flight. He had never hurt her, but the implication was that if he ever chose to, it would be much worse than anything dished out by Tobias. That poor man would probably cry if he could read her mind. She had slowly sunk into the deflated couch cushions, wincing as she made contact- Tobias had taken more than he had in years, and she would surely suffer for this for weeks.

 

With the warmth of the sun and the couch seemingly cocooning her in its form, she lightly dozed- she was tired, so tired. Before she could fall into a deep sleep, she heard loud, powerful knocking at the front door. Her body snapped alert, her heart irregularly beating as it struggled to regulate the rush of adrenaline and fear- her mouth felt woolly and dry as she licked her lips and struggled to rise. The knocking continued. She hobbled as she made her way to the front door, picking up the new bat she had set next to the wall before slowly sliding the locks from their position. She left the topmost chain lock on; hopefully, if it was Tobias, she’d be able to close the door or at least hold him off to get a better two-handed grip on the bat if he made it past the door. Her vision was still blurry from her nap, her other eye’s swelling had not gone ddown,so she angled herself better as she slowly cracked the door open.

 

“Hello?” Her voice was quivering.

 

“Eileen? Is that you?” There was a soft, familiar voice, one that she had not heard in years. She gasped as she stepped back, rushing to undo the top lock on the door before swinging it open. Standing on her steps were the blurry forms of Octavian and Livia Prince-her parents.

 

“Bloody Merlin!”

Her father bellowed in his deep, gravelly voice.

“Eileen- gods above, your face!” Livia cried shrilly.

 

The sun was blinding her, blinding the one good eye she had left- she raised one bruised hand to shield her sight from the sun. There were more gasps from the couple; for some odd reason, the weight of the bat in her hand was the only thing that was registering. She turned her head, staring at it in confusion before stepping back into the house and placing it back on the wall. Her parents quickly followed her in. Livia rushed to her side, guiding her to a dining room chair, her mind still muddled, while her father searched the house with his wand raised, face red as he looked for her attacker.

 

“He’s- He’s not here, he’s gone already father.” she groaned out, while her mother's touches were gentle; even the lightest of touches smarted. Her father, satisfied with his search and her confession, came to kneel in front of her. She could only wince again, holding in the irrational urge to tell him that he would dirty his robes, as she hadn’t been up to mopping the floor yet.

 

“You know the person who did this to you? Should we call the Aurors?”

Livia questioned.

“It was my husband.”

“That fucking bastard- why didn’t you hex him, Eli?”

Her father cursed as he had dropped his wand to roll up her sleeves, hissing with every new bruise he found.

 

“He broke my wand- it was- it was years ago. I can barely feel it- barely feel the magic anymore.”

“Merlin- how long has this been going on? Why didn’t you tell us?” Livia cried between whispered healing charms. Her mind was clearing, the magic within her rising up to caress her mother. With each wave of her mother's wand, each bruise erased, each cut closed and healed, the rage she had held deep within her exploded- she slammed her fist down on the rickety table, scaring both of her parents at its abruptness.

 

“WHY didn’t I tell YOU? Because you FUCKING KICKED ME OUT- DISOWNED ME. I TRIED, I TRIED TO TELL YOU— you, YOU WOULD RETURN ANY OF MY BLOODY OWLS— and, and once-she was sobbing now- once he broke my wand, once he really started, once he went after our child I couldn’t have reached you if I tried.” her voice lowered into a quivering whisper.

Her mother was crying into her knotted hair. Her father had enough sense to be ashamed as his eyes teared- he blinked rapidly, hoping to deter them, and he was almost successful until his gaze landed on the large purple swelling on her left knee. They sat together, both mother and father working desperately to heal what was left of their only child. Octavian called out once the majority of visible wounds had been healed.

 

“Mixton”

The prince family elf popped in, it wore the same uniform she had remembered seeing as a child, a black formless pillowcase made of silk with the family crest embroidered over his chest. Its larger-than-normal ears lapping in excitement.

 

“Please grab the first aid potions kit and the remedies I have in my lab.”

“Right away, sir.”

 

When he returned, they wasted no time pouring potion after potion down her throat. By the time they were finished, she felt somewhat human again- there was a deep, arching hollowness that rested in her throat. Why? Why now after all this time? Her desire for answers overwhelmed her- forcing her to vocalize the very thing that tormented her.

 

“Why? Why are you here, why have you come after all this time?”

 

Her father was the one to speak after a short silent conversation with his wife- her pleading red eyes told him all he needed to know.

 

“There has been some news, news that has changed a lot of what we knew- what we had ardently believed. We struggled with it, but after countless inquiries, nothing could change the truth- what had been presented to us so concretely. And then, Slughorn, that sycophant of all people, reached out to us at the behest of one of your son’s- our grandchild’s friends. Some girl- well his top student- had pleaded with him to bridge the connection because of how brilliant she believed he was in potions. After that we took it as a sign to reach out- If everything was pointing us, guiding us back to you, how could we resist?”

 

He slid his large, warm hand around hers, their fingers entwining.

 

“Oh Eli, I’m sorry- I- we had wanted to do this differently, we had never imagined that this is what you were struggling with. I know, I know you may never forgive us, I know you have every right to deny us as we had done to you all those years ago- but please, please let us help you.”

 

She tightened her hold on his hand, as her mother ran her fingers through her now knot free locks. She wanted to deny them, wanted to spit in their faces and hurt them just as they had, just as Tobias had, but her eyes caught sight of a small framed photo- it was one of the few that she still had left. Its glass was broken, shards still clinging to the frame, blood- her blood speckled across the photo it held. It was her and Severus, smiling together as she held him in her arms- He was five then, it was just before the worst of Tobias’s beatings had begun. They both looked so happy- so innocent.

 

“Okay”

Chapter 15: Here comes the Sun

Summary:

Summer sun allows your garden to grow and mature, take care to water it properly

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

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“Happiness was different in childhood. It was so much then a matter simply of accumulation, of taking things—new experiences, new emotions—and applying them like so many polished tiles to what would someday be the marvelously finished pavilion of the self”. –John Banville

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June 30th, 1972 The Evans House 7:05 am

 

The summer sun was finally making it’s appearance, its light peeking through the kitchen windows as the birds sang, the curtains fluttering as a cool breeze carried their songs into the house. Rose hummed a made-up tune as she flipped pancakes- she was one of the first ones up; they had all had a late night, crowded around the living room sofa as they watched episodes like famous classic tales- the animation had them in stitches as Severus remarked on how Friar Tuck from the Legend of Robin Hood looked suspiciously like one of their teachers. She chuckled to herself; the boy had come a long way from the skinny, wild thing Lily had dragged home. For such a quiet, introspective boy his often unexpected dry humor always threw her and Louis for a loop. Her hand paused for just a brief moment, the pancake slightly burning- she was worried about Eileen; they hadn’t heard from her in a few days, and the day she promised she would swing by to pick up her son had passed. Louis had driven by their house and knocked one day after work, but it looked like she was out. They had worked so hard to bridge the gap and hopefully make her feel as if she had help if she needed it. She had confided in her husband that night before bed, her worries, the morbid theories her mind had conjured on what could be keeping Eileen away. Louis just held her, running his hands up and down her arms before reminding her that whatever she decided, he’d be there to support her. Whether it be the muscle, the financial provider, or the emotional sounding board she needed- plus he confessed that Severus was growing on him, if the worst case happened to come true. Well- he’d just get used to the idea of having a taciturn 12-year old boy with a voracious appetite for puddings and books. God, they’d have to ask if Flourish and Blotts allowed lines of credit if the worst case happened. She chastised herself mentally-now was not the time for jokes like that. She grunted as she finally paid attention to the pancake she neglected- it was charred and absolutely inedible. She quickly pulled it from the pan and chucked it into the trash before starting another. She had already made some toast, ham, and tea. Pancakes were a rare treat that she felt the kids needed.

 

As she finished making breakfast, she heard a long groan from the hall. She had only looked away for a split second, but when her eyes snapped back, she saw a wild creature- a twisted and bushy auburn mass that expanded and grew with every disgruntled noise that escaped from the face beneath it. Its captured victim was rubbing sleep from their eyes, blue sleepwear depicting cats rumpled as if they had fought the mass on its head and lost spectacularly. It seemed possessed, possibly still asleep or heavily exhausted from its crusade, as it draped itself on the coveted window seat in the kitchen. It seemed to melt as it soaked up the translucent rays of the sun.

 

“Goodness love.. Your hair.”

 

She cautiously questioned, her face trying to portray acceptance as her eyes gave her away- they scrutinized heavily.

 

The little creature just rolled slightly to the side; it had stolen a knitted blanket off the chair next to it and bundled up- it peeked out between the folds, eyes heavy, still weighted with sleep. It glared confused for a moment before closing the folds of the blanket without a peep in response.

 

“Okay, alright.”

she tried to contain her laughs as she moved to grab the juice from the fridge.

 

More groaning and grunting, except this little creature had a deep black mop that stuck up in every direction; its clothes were marginally better than the first but still in a chaotic disarray. It shuffled lazily, as if its feet were dragging it forward and its body had decided to rest. It made a noise of surprise as it poked the first one nestled on the window. The auburn monstrosity reappeared, startling the second; it simply gaped, completely stunned. This, however, seemed to anger the feisty little thing. It sneered, nearly growling out. This was enough warning for the second, and it grunted in surrender before slinking off and claiming the side chair. It scrounged around the room, first finding another blanket before fully settling in.

 

There was humming this time, nearly the same tune she had been humming herself as she noticed her husband waltz into the kitchen. His eyes only on her as he danced his way over- she failed to contain her giggles as he hit her with a double-finger pointed hip shimmy. Taking her laughs as an invitation, his eyes turned warm as he stalked his way around the counter to slide in behind her, arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her body flush against his. With a smile on his face, he rocked them both to the tune he now sang, one hand coming up to brush her hair off the side of her neck before leaning in to kiss her neck. She laughed as she tensed; his mustache was tickling her like crazy- she playfully slapped the hand that dropped to pinch her butt. She turned her head and gestured to the two creatures he failed to notice. There was a slight blush on his face as he laughed, and then coughed as he went to maintain a “respectable” distance. He stole a bit of toast before turning his back to lean on the counter, aggressively wiggling his eyebrows as he took a bite.

 

The next creature was much quieter than the first two, but a perpetual sneer rested on its face as it made its way into the kitchen, sneering in discontent as the light blinded it. It paused only for a moment, raising its hands in dismay to try to block the offending sun-It rushed to sit at its seat at the table before curling up on itself and resting its head on the wood surface. Its dark red hair was carefully captured in a messy bun held together by a green scrunchie.

 

The last of the creatures to inhabit the house, stalked in, its blond mane nearly as wild as the first. It, too, was quiet as it hurried to its territory at the table, Louis cautiously approached with the juice Rose had made and placed it on the table. It grunted in acknowledgment, rushing to be the first to pour a glass. Rose brought the rest of the food before signaling to her little creatures that breakfast was ready. The second, its black strands slightly better than before- it huffed as it rose from its place, taking a seat that was in between the second and the first’s normal chair. There was another loud groan from the first; it twisted and wiggled, contemplating the necessity of sustenance before revealing itself to the rest.

 

“OH bloody-”

“Wow it’s so big”

“How?”

 

Exclamations all around as the rest were finally able to see the auburn locks. It made a face and glared at them, its icy golden irises curbing any more comments or inquisitive looks, all subdued by its ire. It waved a hand dismissively; this prompted the rest to dig in.

 

There was more grunting and groaning, but as Rose watched her family enjoy the breakfast she made , she slowly saw her favorite bit of magic-a wondrous transformation—take place. As food, sun, company, and drink filled them and warmed them, her little creatures transformed one by one into little children. Smiles and laughs joined the birdsong; gentle ribbing and playful touch traveled across the room. Pleasant groans as they took generous bites of food- deeply sincere praises falling from their lips as they cleared their plates. She soaked in the moment, carving it into her memories- basking in the endorphins it gave her. This had been denied to her for so long; of course, there were still mornings filled with love, filled with contentment and happiness, but it was all the more special when her little family was complete.

 

As she cleaned up, passing dishes and silverware to Louis to dry, she watched another transformation: one by one her children left, only to return in appreciation- bright smiles, gentle but firm hugs, small thank yous, and silent gestures. The children’s bond had grown stronger this summer; they all made their way outside on the patio to bask now in direct sun, like limp multicolored cats strewn about, books and magazines decorating their laps, another batch of juice sitting on the table in front of them as they gossiped and lazed in each other’s company.

 

Louis finished with his task and recaptured her attention. She studied his face- he seemed to have gracefully aged, just getting more and more handsome as time went on. Honestly, it made her a bit mad sometimes, especially when she noticed a new wrinkle at the corner of her eyes during her morning ablutions. But he still looked at her like she had hung the moon, still looked at her like he had the night he begged to take her on a date. She melted into his arms, kissing his cheek as he pulled her across the room, twirling her in a small dance. The sneaky devil had turned on the radio. They spun around the kitchen, basking in the warmth of each other's embrace.

 

Later in the afternoon there was a sharp knock at their door, Rose set down her book and got up from the living room couch. They weren’t expecting anyone, so she ardently hoped that she would see a familiar face- it was as if her prayers were answered. The glowing face of Eileen Snape greeted her. Her eyes teared up as she rushed forward and pulled the woman into a tight hug, nearly tripping them both on the front steps.

 

“Oh God, Eileen! Where have you been? I’ve been so worried about you.”

 

She mumbled into the hair. Eileen just squeezed her tighter before pulling away, her eyes matching Rose’s glassy and red.

 

“Thank you, thank you for everything, and I’m sorry I worried you- I was in a bit of a rough way. But I had some help that I didn’t expect.”

 

She pulled away more, moving to hold Rose's hand as she turned and guided Rose’s eyes to the direction of the stern-looking couple standing behind her.

 

Rose stunned, cataloged their features: the same pale skin, the same inky black hair and eyes; only one, the older man, had the same nose as Severus. She looked at Rose in confusion.

 

“My parents reached out; they’ve offered to take me and Severus in- and I’ve accepted. We’ve already got the house packed and moved.”

 

Rose snapped her attention back to Eileen. She looked so much healthier, so much fuller- happier. Her tears fell this time.

 

“Thank goodness-That’s the best possible news, honestly the best news I’ve heard all day. Oh gosh, look at me blubbering on the front porch. Please, please, please do come in.”

 

She rubbed her eyes, hastily trying to dry her tears as she led the group inside. The kids were now inside, scattered about the living room, Lily and Petunia sat together on the couch with Louis watching TV, Severus was on the ground between Lily and Hermione, who was lying sideways on the recliner, both reading heavy tomes. They all looked awkward as they noticed the strangers behind Eileen. Louis jumped up and brushed off his jeans, walking forward with his hand outstretched in greeting.

 

“Oh, pardon me, I’m Louis Evans, Rose’s husband. Mr and Mrs-?”

 

He looked to his wife and then to Eileen before looking the older man back in the eyes.

The older man hesitated as he looked at the hand offered; there was a curious glint in his eyes as he studied it. He tentatively reached out and grasped his hand before introducing himself, caught off guard as Louis started to shake their hands.

 

“My names is- my name is Octavian Prince, and my wife here is Livia Prince, I’ve come to learn that you are good friends of my daughter Eileen.”

 

Severus jumped up dropping his book as he rushed to hug his mother as the rest of the girls stared on in wonder. Louis and Octavian both watched the scene with a soft expression: Eileen was running her hands through Severus’s hair as she whispered in his ear, Rose just off the the side of the two of them rubbing his back. She tutted as she held his face in both her hands, moving it side to side as she delighted in how much healthier he looked, how much he had grown over the year.

Livia noticed how the girls of the family all smiled and welcomed Eileen, while silently supporting Severus, small touches of acknowledgment, slight pressure, or soft words that helped eliminate the tension that he had been carrying.

 

“Would you like anything? Tea? Biscuits? Coffee?” Louis offered the couple.

 

They had politely requested tea as they were led into the kitchen, their eyes quietly taking in the house and all within it. Rose covertly diverted the girls back into the living room before leading Eileen and Severus to sit beside the couple. Once Rose was happy with the small bit of privacy she had tried to give the reunited family, she asked if they needed anything else. When they declined, she pulled Louis by the arm back to the living room.

 

The Snapes and Princes sat awkwardly around the table, each unsure of what to say, how to start. Severus gathered his courage, tightly squeezing his mother's hand before downing his tea and questioning his grandparents.

 

“So you’re my grandparents.”

Livia coughed, Octavian cleared his throat before readjusting in his seat.

 

“Yes, it's good to finally meet you, Severus. Your mother has had nothing but wonderful things to say about you.”

Severus narrowed his eyes.

 

“You could have known that a lot sooner if you hadn’t disowned us.”

“Severus-” Eileen gasped.

“No, no- Eli the boy is right; I can’t blame him for speaking the truth.” Octavian grunted.

 

“We know we made a mistake; we have suffered for it for years- you have suffered for years because of it and we are sorry- but we also want to make it right.”

Livia softly spoke as she took in the simmering rage in Severus’s familiar eyes.

 

“Make it right- how? You can’t erase all those years.”

 

“No we cannot, but we have spoken with your mother, and she has accepted our help. We have reinstated her back into the family and named you as our heir- We’ve, we’ve got everything moved over. You’ll never have to live with that wretch of a man again.” She replied.

 

All the bluster, the tension, and the fight simply drained from Severus- his hands shaking.

 

“Just like that?”

 

“To start with- We intend to make up for those years. We would like- we would hope that you’d be willing to give us a chance as well.” Octavian interjected.

 

“How, how did you find us? Why find us?”

 

“As we told your mother, there has been information that we did not know, never even dreamed to be true, but it was, it had shocked us- challenged us to really evaluate our views and actions. And then- well I must say, you’ve made some excellent friends; one convinced your teacher,-Slughorn to reach out to us at her behest, and we took it as a sign.”

 

“What? One of my friends?”

 

“Uh yes, Slughorn didn’t mention a name, just that she was one of his best students.”

 

They all stared as they watched for his reaction. It was small, the slow blinks as he tried to connect the dots, the moment he did, and his brows raised straight to his hairline as his eyes widened. He shot up faster than they could comprehend, knocking over his chair in the process as he bolted from the kitchen- the adults scrambling to follow him. He stormed his way into the living room, rushing past Louis, past Rose, Petunia- past Lily, before stopping at Hermione.

 

“You?”

“Me.”

 

She let out a loud squeak as he pulled her up from her seat into a bruising hug. The Evans looked on confused- Lily’s eyes narrowing the longer she watched. Eileen and her parents just stood there flabbergasted as they watched the exchange- Eileen especially surprised because there was one thing she knew, and that was her Severus wasn’t a hugger. Absolutely abhorred it.

 

She pulled out of his embrace to give him a smile, eyes drifting to lock onto Octavian and Livia before returning to observe his face- he caught the look she had given them.

 

“What an incredible gift— to be reunited.” she said softly.

His eyes lit up as he understood her message.

 

He nodded to her before turning back to the Princes and accepting their offer. The families celebrated with another round of tea and snacks before the newly reformed Princes bid the Evans family adieu.

 

Mr. Prince came to stand next to Hermione on the front porch as he watched his wife, daughter, and grandson chat one last time with the other members of the family.

He leaned toward her, voice lowered as he spoke.

“The prince family is in your debt, in your family's debt- I must ask, why?”

“Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus”

 

Confused, he waited for her to elaborate.

“He was the first Roman emperor, a muggle- he was born Gaius Octavius- or known as Octavian. Your presumed namesake. I studied the Prince line in a genealogy directory- surprised that blood supremacists would be entrenched in Muggle history. I made the connection between a house with sons named after Roman emperors, distinct Roman features, black hair, black eyes, and an unparalleled superiority in potions.”

She leaned in further.

 

“Your daughter honored her family's tradition even though she was disowned, bore a son with unimaginable resolve and intelligence. He deserved to be honored, to be recognized- to be given a chance to be the prince he was always meant to be.”

He stood solemnly.

 

“If you are sincere about the debt you owe my family- owe me. Then take care of them both- I’ll be watching.”

 

Her eyes flashed gold- his brows raising in surprise. She nodded to him before making her way back into the house, hugging Severus and Eileen one more time.

 

As night fell and the Evans family separated, dinner had been a light affair, finger foods and stacked sandwiches as they all ruminated on the excitement of the day. Hermione had noticed the pinched expression on Lily’s face- determined to find out what had upset her, she followed her to her room. It was still mostly pink and lace; her poor plant finally looked lively since Rose had been taking care of it instead- she feared it would make a dramatic decline now that Lily oversaw its care once more.

Lily was huffing in that passive way that allowed for ambiguity, but her magic was pinging, alarms of discontent and caution.

“So, what has you so upset, Lils?” She tried asking nonchalantly while she leaned against the door frame.

 

“Nothing.”

“No it’s something. Your brows are pinched, you’re huffing at maximum level, and your cheeks are getting red- next I expect you’ll be throwing ‘nothing’ elbows and ‘nothing’ glares- so tell me before it escalates.”

 

Lily face-planted into her bed before grabbing her pillow and screaming into it.

 

“Gods, why are you so annoyingly good at knowing! Jeez, fine- you want to know? Well, I’m mad, but I’m mad that I’m mad. God, I’m awful.”

 

She smothered herself with the pillow this time. Hermione simply entered the room, heading to sit on the little room Lily had left on her bed. She smoothed out the rumples in her blanket and gently removed the pillow from her face.

 

“Oh there you are. So that was a bit confusing- why don’t you give me a bit more detail on why you’re mad that you’re mad.”

 

Lily looked into her eyes before huffing dramatically, her hands coming up as if they could articulate her feelings.

 

“I was- mad, jealous really- that you had somehow helped Sev. God, just speaking it out loud makes me feel horrible. I knew a little about what happened at his home, you know- I was trying to find ways to help him. I tried to just be there for him, to talk to him, but no matter what I did, he still suffered. But you, the person who hardly liked him, hardly had the same relationship with him, just changed everything.” she snapped her fingers.

 

“Just like that. And I was mad that it wasn’t me, mad that he hugged you when he’s never even hugged me, his supposed best friend. And then it hit me how disgusting that was.”

 

Her emerald eyes tearing up.

 

“I should have felt nothing but happiness for him.”

 

She rushed to wipe her eyes.

 

“I was upset that he wouldn’t be staying, upset that he’d be moving, that I wouldn’t be able to just walk a few blocks and be at his house- all I did was think about myself, and it made me so angry to realize. So I’m mad that I’m mad-” She turned to face Hermione, her eyes pleading with her to understand.

 

“Ahhh, I see.” she answered while running her hand through her dark red hair.

 

“Are you actually happy for him, though?”

“Yes, I’m so thankful they made amends, that they both are getting help.”

Lily closed her eyes as she allowed Hermione to comfort her.

 

“Then everything is okay, you’re sincerely happy for him, you recognized your faults, and you’re aware of why it was wrong- those are all things that help make a person good.”

“You really think so?”

 

“Mhmm- but let’s be real you’re just going to miss having a brooding minion to boss around. Don’t think I haven’t been paying attention- ‘oh sev can you get me this? oh sev, can you run-”

“Hermione!”

Lily squealed as she slapped her playfully- they both started laughing the redder Lily’s face got. After a few minutes they both calmed down.

 

“Come on- get up and stop abusing your pillow, I’ll even braid your hair in that way you like.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

 

July 2nd 1972- Journal Entry

 

“Princess!”

“Yes Sirius”

“Tell me something about Muggles.”

“Are you actually curious, or is this just because you want to rebel a little?”

“Tell me about rebellious muggles.”

“Well have you heard of Rock N Roll?”

“I’m Intrigued”

“So..”

 

July 5th, 1972- Journal Entry

 

“Did a Muggle really walk on the moon? How’d they even get that high”

“Priiinnnceeesss- I need to know. Your blasted magazine you gave me mentioned it, but that can’t be true.”

“Hello, Sirius, yes, it actually happened on July 20, 1969. It was the Americans who won the race.”

“What race?”

“The race to the moon silly”

“They RAN there??”

 

July 7th, 1972- Journal Entry

 

“I miss you”

“I miss you too, Sirius.”

 

July 10th, 1972- Journal Entry

 

“So wait, they just drive around in leather on those two wheel things and beat up people?”

“Um kinda- They’re biker gangs… Think of, of quidditch teams? They’re always trying to score on the other, and certain parts of the field are theirs, and they fight to get through to them, and they just happen to be on brooms instead of carriages.”

“I get the feeling you don’t really understand quidditch, Princess.”

“I fear you might be right.”

 

July 15th, 1972- Journal Entry

 

Sirius?

 

July 20th, 1972- Journal Entry

 

“Sirius? Are you okay? You've just been a little quiet.”

 

July 22nd, 1972- Journal Entry

 

“Did you miss me, Princess?”

 

“Are you okay? Sirius?”

 

“Never better now that I can talk to you.”

“I was really worried, Sirius.”

“I know princess”

“I missed you- who else is going to pester me about nonsensical things?”

“Nonsensical? No, it’s just intellectually complex, misunderstood even.”

“Yes, that’s what I said- Nonsensical.”

“You wound me, princess.”

“You promise you’re okay?”

“I promise.”

 

July 25th, 1972- Journal Entry

 

“I just don’t believe it.”

“What's not to believe?”

“Muggles believe Slughorn’s twin with white hair and a beard somehow flies around the world in one night and breaks into people's houses to give them things because he's been using elves to spy and make them toys??? That’s Barmy princess.”

“Well, when you put it that way, it’s a little odd.”

“Princess the creeper even keeps a parchment on what you’re doing.”

“Well you better be a good wizard then.”

“I’m the best wizard >:(”

“Well there is Remus…”

 

July 27th, 1972- Journal Entry

 

“Princess, you’ve been holding out on me.”

“Good evening, Sirius.”

“Now is not the time for pleasantries!”

“Oh, goodness- what can your humble servant do for you, oh great wizard?”

“Well... You know, that doesn’t have a bad ring to it..”

“Sirius.”

“Sorry-Sorry, why didn’t you tell me the Muggles can fly?”

“Wait have you really been sheltered so much that you haven’t seen a plane before?”

“You’ve met Walburga.”

“Okay point taken- well they fly in planes; they’re a metal tube with engines that fly into the air faster than any broom.”

 

“That sounds horrific.. But if they don’t have magic, how does it get into the air?”

“Well they use engines..”

 

 

Hermione laughed as she leaned into her pillow. He was always asking her random things about muggles- she’d have to smuggle him more books and magazines. Her fingers traced his elegant script; it was so much prettier than anyone she knew, flowing and bold in all the right places that tickled her brain. Lily, like Harry, unfortunately had chicken scratch that could rival any Muggle doctor. Ron—well, Ron had tried, but it always seemed to look like a six-year old had rediscovered writing. Now James and Remus were close contenders; for all the grief James gave Sirius for being a “Posh git” he had the classic Edwardian style cursive. Remus’s was structured, clean, and concise. Severus- well his distinct script seemed to have stayed the same no matter her changes; it gave her PTSD. Although she did give him credit for his style. Sirius had by far been the most talkative in the journals she had given the boys. James in Remus was peeking in occasionally to say hi or just reconfirm that they would be able to make it to his house on the 5th. She had even gotten Severus and Lily to agree to come, something she had thought James had just offered as a platitude, but he sounded just as excited, especially as he realized that they’d have enough people to possibly put together a mock Quidditch game.

 

She had pestered Remus quite a bit on his conditions for the next change; the full moon was in two more days- he had been elusive on the details of how his parents had arranged things but grateful for her concern. He had lamented quite often that his parents were restricting the amount of chocolate he consumed- his muggle mother always harping on the possibility of cavities while his father tried to convince her that there was magic to prevent them. She sympathized with him greatly but saw it for what it was- a distraction. She didn’t want to push him too much, but he had a tendency to withdraw or clam up when it came to his condition. She couldn’t try to improve things if she didn’t know, it wasn’t something he had asked for, but he had never been the best at advocating for his own needs. She was worried; the only time she had learned about what his early life and transformations were like in the past wasn't even by his own admission but through drunken snippets she had overheard in late night conversations with Sirius at Grimmauld. They had only been reunited for a short amount of time, spending most days in each other's company as they reminisced about their glory years- it still pained her to think about that.

 

 

August 4th, 1972- Journal Entry

 

“I can’t wait to see you, Princess.”

Chapter 16: Everything I Own

Summary:

Take care not to over water, some flowers could wilt

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

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“It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are still alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger for them.”

― George Eliot

---

June 16th, 1972 Grimmauld Place (Evening)

 

He had never known if there was truly a soul, of course, older wizards and witches had spoken about it, written about their theories, and he knew of those that had dabbled in answering that age-old question through spell, through potion, charm, hex, and jinx- some, the kind of creatures that existed in stolen human forms, malevolent and wicked, that wreaked havoc like the faes of old, relied on their unfathomable arrogance and inhumanity to tempt to curse the soul. To use it like a tool. He knew only one thing: even though he lacked the years, he could feel it burrowing and digging deeper as it invaded his blood, invaded the space nestled deep beneath his ribs. He had welcomed it, encouraged it, as if he was a traitorous soldier opening the castle gate to allow the ruin of his homeland. Hermione was a part of his. That warmth that bloomed to soothe his pain, that allowed him just a tiny bit of relief- that could only be the answer, the truth that hundreds of thousands had sought for a millennium. His world had been made infinitely better and brighter with her in it. As he listened to the heavy steps climb higher and higher, the steps that resonated throughout the hall as they neared his door, his anxiety, his fear vanished- for there was no longer a need to worry about this wretched family, their wretched words, their wretched blood, their wretched violence, or their wretched disdain. His home was with auburn hair, with golden eyes, and with the warmth of magic that had filled all of the broken, scattered pieces he had never known he was missing.

 

Woe is the Madness of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.

 

June 17th, 1972 Grimmauld Place

 

He was born anew, felt as though he was another Sirius living in another world, the dark walls of his room no longer squeezed closer, the dreary atmosphere had lightened, it was as if the house had finally taken a breath and allowed in the oxygen it had desperately needed. Allowed it to ease it’s oppressive hold enough for those who resided within its walls to breathe along with it. He still felt pain though, sharp and burning radiating outward from his shoulder as the potions must have already worn off, he trembled and groaned as he forced himself to sit up. It must have sensed his pain, his consciousness for his grandfather’s elf popped into his field of view carrying a tray filled with multicolored vials.

 

“Morning young master, I is to see how you is doing, I is to bring you more potions and let the Master know you is awake.”

“Thank you, Alton.”

 

It watched him diligently, ensuring that he didn’t spill a drop as he downed three potions in quick succession. His face contorted in a deep grimace as he tried to will away the horrid taste- he wondered how many at St. Mungo's decided to deny care and die instead in order to avoid having to take a multitude of those disgusting potions day after day. Alton simply eyed him in suspicion as if he was privy to his thoughts before popping away. He didn’t have to wait long before he heard them- once again deep, heavy steps as they climbed the stairs, deep, heavy steps that grew louder as they came to stop outside his door. There was a short knock before the imposing figure of his grandfather stepped through his door. He was a wall of propriety, of crisp black robes and coiffed salt and pepper hair; his stifling gaze shifted as it took in his room in the daylight, his cold, steely blue orbs showing nothing- it had reminded him of the stillness of winter, the death of life in the cold. He was silent when he finally looked at him, his eyes weighing him.

 

“How are you feeling, Sirius?” Arcturus hesitantly questioned.

“Splinched.” he answered defiantly.

 

The muscle in Arcturus’s jaw clenched. A burning sense of satisfaction lit within him-he was able to crack the ice.

 

“I need to take a look at your shoulder then. Come, come, I’ll help you.” He grunted before moving to help him out of his nightshirt. His grandfather conjured a chair to sit in front of the bed, his elf popping back in with another tray, this time carrying bandages and ointments. There was silence once more as his grandfather moved with a gentle, assured pace. He was confused; this could have been done faster with magic- his elf could have snapped his fingers in a second. He studied his stoic face as his patriarch diligently cared for his wound- there was still nothing there, just blank numbness. Cold, still- no matter how gentle his hands were, there was nothing warm between them.

 

“It looks like it will scar- the force, the deepness of the wound, and the touch of dark magic- This was the best that could be done.”

 

It was a small thin raised pinkish red line- skin stretched and mangled, weaving together, spanning across his shoulder. Ugly. It had shortened just a bit, enough that it could be hidden beneath clothes, but he would be forever marked by his mother's madness.

 

“I’m alive.”- it was a statement, a reassurance.

“Yes, something I am most grateful for.”

Sirius just sat silently, head tilting as his grey eyes bore into his grandfather's. He smiled before leaning back on his headboard and challenging him once more.

 

“Are you? Are you really grateful? Because I didn’t think any Black would be grateful for a Blood Traitor Heir. Walburga was just a bit more honest than I feel you are.”

 

His question was met with clenched fists this this time- it was a beautiful sight in combination with the twitching muscle in his grandfather’s clenched jaw.

 

“You see, I’m more surprised to be resting here in bed alive, still within the confines of our ancestral home-” he patted the thick blanket resting in his lap as he smirked.

 

“Enough- You will hold your tongue. I will forget that you dared to challenge me because of what you went through. However- you will tell me,

were the reports true?”

 

“What reports?” His eyebrows furrowed.

 

“It has been made known that you have aligned yourself with a Blood Traitor, two Half Bloods and two Muggle-Borns. Not to mention your.. unconventional sorting.” Arcturus leaned back in his chair, knees coming forward to touch the end of his bed, while his hands came up to rest on his chest, fingers crossing as he closed his eyes and leaned his head on the back of the chair. It was such an unusual break from his normally impeccable formal posture that it caught Sirius off guard- he had never seen his grandfather ‘lounge’ before. He calculated his response- part of him wanted to refuse to answer, but he didn’t know how much information was already reported; he would have to tread carefully now.

 

“Yes, I have aligned myself with a cousin, a housemate, a Slytherin, and the Most illustrious and Noble house of Evans.” That last part caught the attention of his grandfather. He opened his eyes, and tilted his back forward to stare once more.

 

“House of Evans?”

 

“Yes, The Most Illustrious and Noble- Home to one of the Brightest Witches of our year, and the second- her sister.”

 

“Twin Muggles Borns?”

 

“Yes”

He seemed to absorb the information, before closing his eyes once more and leaning back, his left hand coming up to gesture for him to continue. This gave him a bit of hope.

 

“And the Cousin?”

 

“Potter-a fellow of like mind.” Sirius smirked.

“Hmm Euphemia’s Boy. And the house mate?”

 

“The brightest wizard of our year- Lupin.”

Arcturus tapped his finger on his knee; the sight captured his attention as the glint from the Black family head ring moved along with it.

“Lupin.. Lupin.. Ah.. Lyall’s Boy. Works in the ministry. And the Slytherin?”

 

Sirius frowned a bit before shaking his head and answering.

“The second brightest wizard in our year- Snape.”

The finger, still tapping, slowed.

 

“And… If I were to ensure they no longer associated with you?”

The image of Hermione gone flashed through his mind. Rage, desperate, burning, and vicious, bubbled in his chest.

 

“Then this house would be dead to me- ” He hissed out between bared teeth. The amount of venom in the boy's voice shocked Arcturus, his eyes snapping open as he quickly sat up.

 

“You would dare to throw away your house? To relinquish your position as Heir for measly Blood traitors, Halfbloods- for Mudbloods?”

“I would.” There was no hesitation as it left his lips, his snarl enraging Arcturus.

 

“YOU ARE JUST A FOOLISH BOY THEN! THERE IS POWER IN THIS HOUSE, IN THIS NAME, IN THIS MAGIC- I SHOULD BANISH YOU JUST AS ALL THE OTHERS BEFORE ME WOULD- What is it about these unpure creatures that have ENSNARED YOU SO!!??” Arcturus slammed his hands on Sirius’s side table, rattling the tray and bottles upon it. Sirius’s magic crackled like lightning, shooting forward from his body and colliding with his grandfather's, shocking and aggressive as he snapped.

 

“I AM A BLACK- THE HEIR TO THE MOST ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOUSE! I was raised to hold the purity of magic above all others, whether it be in blood or force! To listen to magic, to revere it, to HONOR IT! That magic you regard so covetously in my Ancient and Noble blood is screaming, tearing at me, leading me with an iron grip- His mind flashed with the image of Hermione in that flowery field, golden and warm- I am doing what you taught me! What was beaten into me! BURNED IN TO MY WILL! THERE IS NOTHING MORE PURE THAN THEIR MAGIC, MORE POWERFUL THAN THEIR MAGIC - BLOOD BE DAMNED!” He yelled, face red, his grey eyes steel as he took in large, harsh breaths, his body tense as he lunged forward as he growled out- his magic battling for dominance.

 

Arcturus eyes widened; the sheer force of his magic was unlike anything he had seen as it pressed violently against his- sparking against his skin. He tried to contain it, to soothe it, as he noticed Sirius’s hand; it had unconsciously come up during his confession, rubbing harshly against his sternum.

“Blood be damned?” Arcturus whispered in disbelief.

 

“Blood be damned!” Sirius commanded.

 

Arcturus rose from his chair, his emotions and magic turbulent as he stared upon the form of his house's heir. Powerful, Vicious and Loyal, a young image of Sirius Black the First. His words pierced his psyche as his mind flashed the words “Force et honneur”, the image of Marius’s back as he left his study. Magic had willed it, magic had guided him, he claimed- something he had always wished for after becoming the heir, even more desperately after becoming the head of his Ancient house, but Mother Magic was cruel, was silent to his pleading. He, too, was a Black, guided by the same will, raised to honor magic in all its might- Who was he to deny its command?

 

He turned his back on Sirius, shaking hands coming together once more, interlocking in front of him- he delved deeply into his occlumency to calm them. The silence lingered, charged with this rage of his heir.

 

“I will allow it, you are my Heir Sirius. You will always be my Heir- Magic has guided you, and so I shall honor it’s will. You will learn, just as the other heirs before you- you will shoulder all the success and failures of how you guide this house’s future.”

 

He turned back around to face him, their magic calming.

 

“Just like I have stepped in now to correct the failures of my own- Walburga as been bound from harming you, or Regulus. Orion is tasked with ensuring that my will is carried out fully. There must be no hesitation, no weakness in your conviction.

Sirius, are you sure?”

 

“With everything I am.”

 

July 1st, 1972 Grimmauld

 

He languished in the backyard, trying to soak in the summer sun, to recreate that golden feeling of warmth. Although the rays beat down harshly, giving his pale skin a light flush of color, something it fought against desperately- generations of posh, sun fearing wizards and witches in the Black family tree would be cursing the ruin of the flawless pale complexion they had cultivated, among other things. He despaired, for nothing could compare, nothing could recreate the feeling he was starving for- maybe he would gain a freckle or two; he’d like a reminder of her on his flesh. Things, things had been different after the fight he had with Arcturus- There were no punishments, something he wholly expected, no snide words, or reprimands from Orion or Walburga. He had barely seen her, like a wraith that stalked the halls only at witching hours, just small glimpses. She was not even at meals; she had chosen to take them in the Master bedroom or simply left to another Black property. Arcturus would check in every few days, to spend time, to ask questions; he was due to come again today. He felt relief, but the magic of his family, of his house, was still cold, still harsh- less than it had ever been but sickening in long exposures. One benefit he was capitalizing on was that Regulus had been glued to his robes in place of his mother's. He had not been able to spend as much quality time with him over the years, but now they smiled, played, and read together like old times. He was able to share his friends, his pranks, the magic he had learned, and Regulus soaked it up amazed at the things his friends had created. Even now, he sat at a table loaded with sweets and drinks; however, it was shaded by a large covering- he didn’t wish to tan as Sirius had while he read a book. He closed his eyes, hands running through the grass. There was a soft clearing of a throat- he scrunched his nose before opening his eyes once more and sitting up to view who had interrupted his ruminations.

 

His grandfather stood at the edge of the yard, the prophet nestled under his arm. Sirius got up off the grass, brushing away stray blades before heading over. He patted Regulus’s shoulder before stopping at his grandfather, hand coming up to shake his.

 

“It is good to see you, patriarch.”

“I hope all is well?” He raised a brow.

“Yes, good, better than it has ever been. Thank you.”

“Good, good.” He grunted before gesturing to the table Regulus was at. Regulus nodded at Arcturus before turning back to his book- it was some daring tale, with dragons and werewolves. They both sat, his house elf Alton appeared, snapping his fingers as he vanished the old tea and replaced it with fresh lemonade. Kreacher had wailed when he learned that Arcturus commanded him to serve only Walburga; he was to follow her and cater to her needs at whatever location she chose, as Alton would be managing Grimmauld and the Black Estate for the time being. The blow was especially heavy since Regulus had slowly begun to distance himself from Kreacher- something he had confessed after a rainy afternoon spent together in the Black family library. It was due to seeing how he acted when Sirius had been harmed. He had hesitated- intentionally hesitated when it meant life or death, something that was much more heinous than simply not answering a call, sneering at a command, or forgetting a preference. He had begged him to be truthful, and so he had confessed in hushed whispers of all that Kreacher had relished in with Walburga. He had spent that night reassuring Regulus that he was fine, that he didn’t need to apologize. He was his baby brother after all- it was his job to guard him.

 

Arcturus pulled the prophet out from under his arm as Alton vanished; he turned it toward Sirius. Waving it slightly in the air between them.

 

“Is this the Snape you mentioned?”

 

Sirius rushed to pull the Prophet from his hands, Arcturus guided him to page 6- In it, in the society section, was an announcement.

 

PRINCE FAMILY REUNITED

PRINCE HEIR NAMED- SEVERUS SNAPE NOW SEVERUS PRINCE

By. Carla Sweetwater

Socialite and Reporter

 

The prominent Prince family joyously announces the reconciliation with their daughter Eileen Snape (nee. Prince), and her son Severus Snape. Both have retaken their family name and will be going by Eileen Prince and Severus Prince from this day forward. Octavian Prince and Livia Prince expressed deep happiness at being able to reinstate their daughter to the family registry along with her son. The last son of the Prince bloodline was confirmed as heir shortly after by Gringotts. (See attached confirmation.)

 

When questioned about the reason they had disowned their daughter in the first place, they refused to comment and only had one statement.

 

“It is only proper to recognize when you have made a mistake. Magic willing, brought our daughter and grandchild back, and we welcome it with open arms.”

See Family Photo Below.

 

 

Sure enough, Sirius could make out Snape’s- No Prince’s ugly mug, he certainly looked more put together, healthier. He could see the family resemblance. He chastised himself mentally; he’d need to curb that, or Hermione would be cross with him again. He took one more look before folding the prophet closed and handing it back.

 

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“The Prince family is an old family, much like ours. Not nearly as far back, but their accomplishments in potions outshine most other families. You did well.”

Rankled a bit, Sirius muttered.

 

“I didn’t know he was a Prince when I decided to be friends with him.”

“No, but your magic was true, and my words, while they may bug you, it is a good sign.”

 

They spend the rest of the afternoon basking under the shade, drinking lemonade.

 

July 2nd, 1972- Grimmauld

 

He quickly learned that the feeling he had been chasing was only curbed by writing to her; he had thought nothing of the increase in his heartbeat or the small high he received when he felt his journal warm-  the tiniest amount of ecstasy that raced through him as his eyes recognized her looping script. How his mind conjured her face, her voice as it teased him with her expressions, how it mimicked her voice, breathing life into her written word. But as their time apart grew longer and longer, he started to take notice of how much his mood fluctuated, how much it hinged on their almost daily interactions. And so, he chased and chased and chased.

 

 

July 11th, 1972- Grimmauld

He nearly cried as he was dragged- followed—abet discontentedly after his grandfather; they would be making their annual vault audit and business trip. It would take 11 days as they traveled across several countries to check in on properties, separate banking institutions, to shake hands with Black family sycophants and rivals. Something that he was mildly excited about in the past, he had always loved picking apart the meaning between the false platitudes, or overhearing the international family gossip and meeting fellow black sheep that lingered in the gray space along the edges of the family’s tolerance. Except this time he wouldn’t be able to bring his journal, wouldn’t be able to chase his high, wouldn't be able to speak to her, to pick apart her wondrous mind- they would be rooming together, traveling together, he would be spending nearly every moment under watchful gaze. He knew she had charmed it to be innocuous, but he couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk her. How was he to survive this?

 

July 22nd, 1972- Grimmauld

 

He felt like a ghost, hollow and gray, being cut off so suddenly was like taking a bludgeoning hex to his system- his grandfather had even called a healer toward the end of their tour, commenting on his paler-than-normal complexion, his lethargy, and his mood swings. He had assured him that all was okay and that it must be from the time changes, all the while he was starving, his skin itching as a new craving hit. As soon as his feet hit the marbling of Grimmauld’s floor, he was racing, his heart pumping as he rushed to his room. Hastily yelling out his goodbyes. He entered his room, locking the door before scrambling to reach his Journal- it was warm. His pupils dilated; with shaky hands, he opened it and was once more bathed in ecstasy.

 

August 4th, 1972- Grimmauld Place

 

It was not enough, it was never enough- now nothing, nothing could substitute for the real thing. He needed tomorrow to come.

 

August 5th, 1972- Potter Manor

 

Arcturus had come early, just as he had promised; his arrival was announced by the heavy flash of green from the floo, as he waved his wand to remove the trace amount of powder from his black robes, he jerked his head- pushing back as he noticed Sirius sitting on a chair facing the floo. He was startled to see him sitting there, only because Sirius had never greeted him right outside the floo before, never sat in utter silence as he waited either. Arcturus noticed he was impeccably dressed; although his clothing was more casual, there wasn’t a single piece out of place, not a wrinkle to be seen. Even his hair was meticulously groomed. He had come to grow fond of the wild, tenacious young boy that balked at propriety, that laughed loudly, clothing lax and just as free as he was- this was new. Or perhaps something he was always capable of but chose not to. He had agreed to the summer visit to the Potter Manor; his only condition was that he speak to the Potters and to get an idea of who might be joining them later. Sirius had bristled but held his tongue before agreeing to it. Now it seemed he had underestimated how much he was anticipating this.

How curious.

 

“Hello Sirius.”

Sirius stood, it was elegant and precise, flowing with strength in every movement. He nodded his head. His form, the angle of his neck, all structured- formal. It could make even the most sour governess gush in praise.

 

“Patriarch, it’s good to see you, all is well?”

Arcturus laughed; his heir’s behavior was odd enough.

“Come now, boy, enough of that, I fear it doesn’t suit you now that I know what a wild thing you really are. But it does warm me to know you can perform a proper greeting if you so choose.”

 

A bit of tension drained from Sirius, but he did not fully relax. Arcturus clocked the nervous fidgeting of his left hand as his pointer finger picked at the cuticle of his thumb.

 

Sirius tried to emit confidence as he smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“No, just excited.”

“Of course, of course- well if you’re ready, we can head on over.”

“YES- I mean- yes, yes I’m ready.” Sirius stuttered out, coughing to control his volume to something more reasonable- more normal. Arcturus stepped aside, using his hand to gesture to the floo.

 

“Well after you, I’m sure you know how to use the floo by now, right?”

“Yes, yes”

Sirius rushed forward, grabbing the floo powder before calling out-

“Potter Manor Hampshire”

Acrturus just huffed in disbelief, before following after him.

 

 

Sirius’s heart was beating out of his chest as he raced away from his grandfather, he was so close, so close to seeing her, breathing her in, and feeling that warmth that had pulled him all those years ago. Of course, seeing James, seeing Remus, and seeing the rest would be nice; he had missed them as well. The vibrant green flames spit him out in a grand parlor, walls of soft cream-colored stone, decorated tastefully in reds and gold- it reminded him in a way of the Gryffindor common room. There were a few pieces of art, all landscapes of rolling hills or hidden valleys- brush strokes vibrant and strong; it appealed to him. He stepped forward, brushing the floo powder off his shoulders as he heard his grandfather step in behind him. It was only a moment before the two of them heard the familiar clacking of heels heading in their direction.

 

Euphemia Potter, in all her finery, appeared arm in arm with her husband, Fleamont Potter; to their side were his brother, Charlus Potter, and his wife, Dorea Potter, older but, no less elegant and polished. James was trailing after them, a bright smile taking over his face as he spotted Sirius. It was so infectious that Sirius couldn’t help but smile back. Arcturus stepped forward to greet them, the men exchanged nods of deference, while he leaned in a bow to place an air kiss on each of the ladies hands. Sirius followed his lead before getting to James and clapping their hands together- James pulled him into a quick hug.

 

“Welcome to Potter Manor, it’s my honor to receive the Patriarch of House Black.”

 

“It is my honor to be welcomed in such. Let me introduce my house’s heir- This is Sirius Black III.”

 

Euphemia and Fleamont smiled at Sirius, the same bright and infectious smile that James inherited.

 

“We meet again, Sirius- It is good to see you.”

“Just as beautiful as the last time I saw you, What a lucky wizard you are Mr. Potter.”

There was a soft snort from Dorea.

“What a silver tongued charmer you are- It is nice to finally meet you outside of a formal function, nephew.” Her glare was quite obvious as she looked at Arcturus. He had the good sense to appear humbled before replying.

 

“Ah yes, something that we are working on fixing - hence why I am here today before leaving Sirius to get more acquainted.”

There was an awkward pause, both women sharing a pointed look at the other before Euphemia spoke up.

 

“Yes yes, again this is a boon. Please follow us into the great hall; we’ll be more comfortable there, and I’ve already had Mixty prepare some tea.”

They made their way to to the great hall, Sirius was taking in all the grandeur of Potter manor- it was a fine house, similar in many ways to Black Manor but warmer in every way that mattered. Hermione would love this- he was sure of it. Once they had all settled, the Potter house-elf Mixy adorned the table in decadent sweets and fruits. Sirius sipped his tea, murmuring in delight as it was a delicious Darjeeling. Fleamont was the first to break the ice.

“So it seems our two young heirs have become friends, housemates even, at Hogwarts. It’s been just a pleasant surprise to learn about all their adventures this past year together from my son. It’s a delight to be old enough to see this type of friendship blossom. Rare indeed.” It sounded pleasant enough, but with those who navigated pureblood society, it was just as sharp and questioning.

 

Arcturus once again a pillar of propriety , smiled; it barely reached his eyes as his deep voice boomed.

“Yes, a true delight- I have come to find joy and acceptance in unexpected situations like this, I hope going forward that their friendship grows, along with those who will be joining them.” he took a sip of his tea.

 

“What a progressive view in the House of Black; this is new, I suspect?” Dorea needled.

“Yes cousin, after speaking with Sirius I have come to learn the benefit of such progressive views and hope to cultivate my house's heirs' leadership in this new direction.” unbothered Arcturus replied.

 

“Well, I say that’s a welcome thing to hear, I am glad that we could be a part of that, hopefully be a part of more in other avenues- yes?” Euphemia inquired.

 

“Yes, I plan on exploring those avenues, so it would be a delight to reconnect at a later time. This goes for you too, Charlus and Dorea. I will also be reaching out to Lucretia and Ignatius.”

 

Both of them had a slight hint of surprise on their faces, even the Potters eyebrows had raised to their hairlines- Sirius knew why, as soon as Dorea Black married into the “Blood traitor” Potter family, she was unofficially excommunicated, the same with Lucretia once she married into another well known “Blood traitor” family- the Prewetts. No longer invited or called to family gatherings, only treated with mild apathy or silent disdain during social events and once they had aged well past the childbearing age, even for witches they were treated even worse for daring to not propagate the dwindling Black blood. It was shameful for any woman born of the House of Black to not bear at least one heir-his mother had foamed at the mouth as she ranted and raved to him when he was younger. She had always flaunted the fact she had borne an Heir and a Spare. The only reason they were not blasted completely off the family tree was that they no longer held the Black surname. What his grandfather was offering was recognition, acceptance, alliance- something that was worth its weight in gold. They had chatted pleasantly for a while- He thankfully was far enough away that he could chat with James. While he usually delighted in their quidditch talks, or even relished the challenge of figuring out how to make a prank work, his skin was starting to itch. James had commented not once but three times on the twitching rhythm of his leg, or how he was tapping his fingers on the table, how he was constantly fighting with his clothes. Time was passing too slowly. By the time Arcturus had finally left, they all retired to the sitting room next to the parlor. Sirius had grown agitated. His occlumency helped him not grind his teeth as the ticking of their grandfather clock drove him spare. He had nearly dozed off after listening to a long, winding explanation of the Wizengamot work Charlus was doing when his ears heard the familiar flash of the floo. He jumped up, startling the Potters, apologizing as he dragged James with him, barely getting out that he had heard the Floo. He forced James to lead him back to the entry parlor. His heart was beating wildly. This was it. Every step he took, his body vibrated in anticipation- finally, finally, finally!

 

He was thoroughly disappointed- nearly snarling in displeasure when the first face he saw was not Hermione's but the sharp, sallow face of Severus Prince. He couldn’t control his frown- something which Severus had noticed and capitalized on quickly.

“Well well well- not so happy to see me, eh?”

 

“Nah he’s just been a bit grumpy for a while now- good to see you mate and I hear congratulations are in order.” James came forward, smile on his face once again, as he shook Severus’s hand and welcomed him to his home. The Potters followed shortly after. Another Flash of the green, and Sirius was met with more disappointment; he did grind his teeth this time- instead of the auburn golden curls he desired to see, it was a dark red. Lily had arrived. Her eyes widened as she took in the manor. James welcomed her just the same, his parents and Aunt and uncle all cooing over her. Why? Why was she the last? He had waited long enough- months and months on end without seeing her, feeling her embrace, without being able to hear her voice or feel her dainty fingers run through his hair as he lazed in her soft lap. Finally, finally another flash of green as his world, his sun, stepped into the parlor- nearly blinding him with her presence.

She was beautiful, so much more beautiful than the last time he had seen her- her auburn curls sparkled under the light, flashes and hints of gold weaving through, his heart now in a full sprint as he noticed the ribbon he had gifted her nestled in her locks. She had worn him, used his gift to tame her lovely hair into an equally lovely style. She had tanned slightly; there were kisses of freckles along her shoulders- his eyes tracking each one. She was adorned in a soft white summer dress that buttoned at the top, her shoulders bare as the bellowing sleeves hugged the sides of her arms, a red belt, thin and corded, accentuated her slim waist. He noticed her nails were painted in a peachy hue. There was blush on her face, as she was introduced to the others- his hands clenching as he waited; how he hated that he wasn’t the first to greet her. When she finally made her way to him, it was as if everything had slowed- She was smiling at him, golden eyes twinkling as her slender arms came up to wrap themselves around his neck, her palms sliding across his chest first, leaving trails of searing heat- her tantalizing apple blossom smell stroking his senses. She was truly a Nypmh-must have had it in her blood, for the moment her magic reached out to caress his- his world exploded in ecstasy. He was trembling as he stifled the groan that had risen. It was threatening to escape, forcing it to not leave his lips as he closed his eyes and leaned into her hug, pulling her flush against his chest- He had to lean more than he did before; she was a short witch. His skin no longer itched; it seared, it burned in delight. He hoped she couldn’t feel how his heart rammed against his chest- or notice how improper the deep breath he took as he nestled his face in her curls. This is what it was like to feel complete once again. Her voice was a sweet boon for his desperate ears.

 

“Oh, Sirius, I missed you!”

He was a starving, desperate thing- he needed more. He was finally getting more.

 

“I missed you too, Princess.” He pulled her tighter.

 

 

How curious.

Dorea’s steel grey eyes watched in avid interest as her nephew halfheartedly greeted and welcomed the two new guests, how his magic flared and reached out to the last, how he melted into her arms- How his eyes could barely stand to leave her form. How he subtly placed his body in her path, blocking her from the rest.

 

Woe is the Madness of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.

Chapter 17: Day after Day

Summary:

Some plants struggle to thrive without the right conditions

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

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“An over-indulgence of anything, even something as pure as water, can intoxicate.”

― Criss Jami, Venus in Arms

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August 5th, 1972 Prince Estate, Wiltshire (Earlier)

 

The Prince estate was an impressively imposing piece of architecture comprised of dark, earthy stones covered in ivy, blossoming flowers, and intricate tiles- it sat above on the highest point, towering over the rolling hills that surrounded it. The estate was immaculately maintained, extensive gardens designed in elaborate splashes of color and skill. Such finery was something that Hermione had not seen since her capture and subsequent torture at Malfoy Manor. Yet for every white peacock she had seen graze the manor grounds, here it was replaced with greenhouses filled with every potion ingredient known to wizard kind and possibly those unknown. It was more than she could count from the parlor she resided in, she looked appreciatively out the stained glass windows. The Princes had kept true to their word and fully accepted Eileen and Severus, something she quietly celebrated the night of the announcement- although her family was more boisterous, she felt that she needed to honor the past, the alternate future of her nightmares. It was these moments that gave her a sort of wistful melancholy, for without it she would have never been able to change as much as she had. Today she was hoping to change one more thing. They had been invited to use the floos at the estate instead of heading over to the leaky, Severus was adamant that it would be idiotic to let every random witch and wizard in the pub know where they were going, especially with how much more volatile the summer days grew. Voldemort was tightening his hold on his followers, ramping up the violence and mysterious disappearances of muggles, muggle-borns, halfbloods and now even the purebloods were being caught in the crossfire. Public discontent was at an all time high as explosive discourse on the ideology, the methods, and the reasons behind them were fought over vigorously, with words, with fists, and some with magic. Even her magic was rolling, discontent yet at random times elated, she felt it, just a small part that burned as the days went on. She wondered what it could mean. Louis and Rose were strolling along the large entryway, taking in the magical nature of the front portraits as they waited for the Princes. Lily and Petunia were gushing over the softly playing piano, Lily explaining to her how the charm worked and what she mused was used to make it last or recognize when someone was in the parlor to serenade.

 

This would be a test. While Octavian and Livia had accepted their pureblooded daughter and her half blood son- truly accepting muggles—accepting muggle-borns into their home would be a whole other level of tolerance she wasn’t completely sure of where they stood- they had acted pleasantly to her parents and sisters the few times they had met. They did acquiesce to Severus’s suggestion, but she would be watching them closely today. If not? Well they’d be in for a nasty surprise if they dared to harm her family, magical or otherwise- She didn’t think Severus would mind becoming head of house so young. She eyed the jewelry she had gifted her parents and Petunia after the school year ended- they held protective and offensive properties that even the most experienced Death Eater would have trouble countering when caught off guard. Her magic was hissing at the thought of them being injured as the Princes finally appeared.

 

The first thing she noticed was how much healthier everyone looked; even the older couple seemed revitalized. Eileen stood tall, no longer slouched and sullen- extravagant robes tailored to fit her slender frame. Severus, while still awkward and lanky, now held a bit more confidence, his shoulders broader- each step more assured than the last, clothed in all black, fitted and new. He preened quite shamelessly when Petunia and Lily praised him. She held back a giggle at the thought of a obsidian peacock fluttering about, but he did deserve it. To be confident, to be noticed, and not for his prowess in dark arts despite his blood or looks while under the thumb of a junior Death Eater like Lucius. She moved from her spot at the window to rejoin her family as they were welcomed. So far the Princes had passed; there was just joy, curiosity, and contentment in their magic. There was one particular issue that she recognized, but that would only help her today. Severus stood still as she approached, his frame tensing as she neared, his gaze calculating as he examined her more formal approach. She offered a hand; his eyebrow raised as he took it and bowed over her clasped hand, placing an air kiss over the back of her hand. Once he released it she dipped into a slight curtsy. As he stepped back, Eileen, noticing the change of greeting, came over to kiss both cheeks as Hermione responded in kind to her and her mother. Mr. Prince stepped forward, and she offered her hand again. He smiled as he bestowed the same greeting as Severus had. It was a perfectly executed pureblood greeting.

 

“Well, it seems you surprise me at every meeting, Mrs. Evans.” he complimented her.

“It’s always a delight to exceed expectations.” she quipped as she dipped into another curtsy.

Severus snorted. Eileen jabbed him in the ribs before taking him closer to the rest of the Evans; she could spot the subtle way Hermione had separated their greetings, the way that she had motioned for privacy. They all looked on curiously as they watched the exchange.

 

“Although that was an impressive display of proper etiquette, I had hoped we were on more casual terms-closer terms, my dear.” Livia questioned.

“As the first true meeting of our families, I felt it was only proper to defer to a more respectable greeting, especially since you’d be hosting my family- and even more so once I’ve imposed a proposition upon your head of house most improperly.” She smiled at the confused look on Livia’s face.

 

“Proposition?” Octavian asked.

She flicked her wrist, non-verbally casting a muffliato charm before informing them that they were now free to speak without concern of being overheard, both Princes eyebrows raised. She pulled a folded piece of parchment from the pocket of her dress, holding it out to Octavian. He hesitantly accepted the parchment; he examined it. It was just a regular parchment, the fold sealed with red wax, stamped with a crest of a shielded knight adorned with a golden crown, within it a rising stag, upon the shield was a roaring lion surrounded by thorns.

 

“I know the last time we spoke of debts and the repayment of them- today as improper as it is under your already generous hospitality, I’ve come to make a single request. The Prince’s are the largest growers of aconite within the British isles. And within this parchment is an opportunity; my request is that you consider it. Should you accept, all you need to do is sign your name, and it will reveal itself upon the parchment. But be warned, do not sign if you do not fully intend to commit yourself.”

 

Octavian’s hand trembled; he could feel the magic in the air between them. This was a boon, although her earlier request was a relief; taking care of Eileen and Severus was what they had already decided. Magical debts, the kind that were created and fused into a vow once spoken, demanded repayment, demanded something of equal value. He had vowed to their family, to her- the magic compounding since the moment he had uttered those words. His magic had demanded, had rioted, and had spurned beneath his skin as the time progressed. As he stared into her eyes, he came to a horrifying thought: she knew. This young Muggle-born witch knew of the intensity of such a vow, had encouraged it, had delayed repayment until she could demand something she felt was of equal value. This was no proposition, no opportunity; this was a command. What a brilliant but terrifying witch they had aligned themselves with.

 

Octavian laughed; Livia just looked at him, unsure what had just transpired between them. He pocketed the parchment before taking Livia’s arm and patting their joined hands with his other. He turned a bit to face her.

 

“The debt will be repaid, darling.”

Livia’s eyes watered a bit; she had worried as the days progressed, worried as her stoic husband seemed to crumble behind closed doors as they tried to move forward, to finally come together as a family.

 

“Thank you, Miss Evans.” Livia wiped the corner of her eyes, taking one of her hands and grasping Hermione’s before giving it a squeeze.

 

“See I told you, quite improper for light greetings, yes?”

That got a laugh out of both of them.

She flicked her wrist once more, and the muffliato dropped. Louis and Rose, seeing the tears and the serious expressions on both Prince’s faces, came up behind Hermione, Louis’s hands coming to rest on her shoulders.

 

“All okay here, Mia love? We couldn’t hear you all for a moment.”

“Yes papa, I was just sharing something personal with them, you know, about everything.” She turned her head to the side to catch his face. Her eyes flicking over to Eileen and Severus, Octavian clocked the elusive way she had worded what had gone on between them.

Discretion then.

 

The clock chimed in the parlor, indicating it was time for the kids to floo to the Potter manor. Livia separated from Octavian and pulled Rose and Louis with her to say good bye to the kids. He walked Hermione over as they said their goodbyes- they would be coming back to the estate later in the evening. Hermione was the last to leave, bright-green flames swallowing her and her oppressive magic that had invaded the estate. He excused himself, allowing Livia and Eileen to guide the Evan’s family to the great hall for drinks while he made his way to his study. Once inside, he walked over to his desk, sitting down before pulling out the parchment and breaking it open. There was a flash of gold. Nestled in the middle of the parchment was a single phrase.

 

“I solemnly swear to fulfill this command, to repay the debt in full to the best of my abilities, to the best of the creditors' wishes, I do so in clear mind, with clear intent- so I vow.”

 

His hands trembled as he signed, the quill nearly snapping under the pressure of his grip. His turbulent magic calming as the debt was beginning to be repaid. The words melted into the parchment, blood red as the vow cemented. Neat, elegant looping script formed, scrawling across the page, his eyes widening at every new sentence that appeared. He read it over and over again- this was impossible, this was incredible, this was insane. How? He called for Mixton; once he arrived, he asked for a flask of Mortlach firewhiskey, it was one of the oldest in his vault, alongside some of his treasured Ogden’s, his fingers tapping on the desk as he sipped the dark malt, relishing in its quick but deep burn. His mind going over the ingredient list-over and over again, over the preparations listed and the delicate yet complicated brewing—if this was true, she was offering notoriety of the Prince name once more. An heir for an heir to repay the debt. He waved his wand, pulling the formal parchment that was spelled with the official Prince crests he normally kept for ministry correspondence to his desk. He would be needing to rejoin the others soon. He had so much work to do.

 

“Dear Mr. Belby..”

 

“Dear, Mr. Lupin..”

 

August 5th, 1972 Potter Manor

 

The bright-green flames flashed as they spit her out into the Potter family manor- She was immediately overwhelmed by the ambient magic surrounding this home. It was powerful, it was temperamental, and it was curious as it radiated from all of those around her- it felt so much like Harry that she nearly cried. It was warm. She was attuned to the others, the fiery but familiar Lily, the cool but searing Severus, yet there was a withering cold mass of magic attached to Sirius. His normally intense, but more carefree- something was bothering him. It was immensely pleased, immensely aggravated, whirling contradictions of desires and impatience - it felt like his magic was starving. She blushed, not daring to look at him until her magic settled. She tried to take in the manor as she waited to be introduced. It was opulent but welcoming, with creams, soft woods, bits of red and gold embellishments on vintage French furniture, soft portraits, and finery. Grand pieces of nature and art. It was decadent and lovely. The Potters introduced themselves one by one, Fleamont was a joy and torture to see- this would be the closest she would ever get to seeing Harry as an adult. The Potter genes were strong- poor Lily. The only thing that had won was her eyes- the color and shape. She giggled a bit, imagining her bemoaning in a hospital bed as she held a miniature copy of her husband. A bit of sadness followed as she hoped that some things would still happen- fixed points, fixed births. But she knew that the ripples she had caused were strong. One could only hope. Finally it was Sirius’s turn; as soon as she landed her eyes on him, it felt like a piece of her sighed in relief-her once discontent magic hummed, leaking out of her to reach for him-it enveloped him, tangling into his, soothing the turbulent emotions until nothing was left but contentment and joy. She couldn’t contain the smile that reached her lips; she really had missed him. He was her secret piece of joy these past few months; he was intelligent, much more than he had ever revealed in the past; he was charming; he was everything she had ever dreamed of in a conversation partner. Her cheeks were starting to hurt as she got closer- just as he always did, he melted into her arms, his full body connecting with hers, leaning heavily as she slid her arms up his broad chest, interlocking them behind his neck. Fingers grazed his black strands as he trembled. She had to hold back from giggling in his ear as she felt him nestle into her bruising hug, burrowing into her curls and returning it just as tightly.

 

“Oh Sirius, I missed you!”

 

He seemed to hug her tighter. She relished the feeling of his strong arms surrounding her.

 

“I missed you too, Princess.” His voice was gruff and low.

 

He had turned them just slightly before pulling back, his eyes trailing over her face as his arms remained wrapped around her waist. He seemed just as hesitant to let go as she was, so she decided if he didn’t mind, neither would she. She pulled him back for another quick hug, this time rubbing her cheek on his right shoulder- except this time he flinched so imperceptibly that she had nearly missed it, his long, slender fingers digging into her hips before releasing. That would have to be addressed later. She dropped her hands from around his neck; he seemed to pout a bit before finally letting go. He had shot up like a weed the last few months; he was so much taller than she remembered. Still carelessly handsome, but this time, instead of rumpled uniforms, he was in expensively tailored magical casual wear. A long-collared white shirt slightly unbuttoned to show some of his slightly tanned chest- his sleeves meticulously rolled up past his forearms—accented by a black embroidered vest that tucked down into equally form-fitting black pants and dragon hide boots. She reached to grab his hand, noticing for the first time the Black family heir ring. He had never worn it in his youth in the past; he had lamented enough times that the story stuck with her. It fit him; it looked right adorning his hand. She could envision it, how he would grow so much taller, so much more handsome as he decorated his body in tattoos, in runes, and in jewelry. How his boyish smile would transform into a devilish smirk, she could be honest with herself, at least now. Sirius Black was handsome. She blushed deeply. His eyes seemed to light with satisfaction as the very smirk she imagined appeared on his boyish face. His magic nearly purring as it reached out to caress hers.

 

“You know I’ve been counting down the days until I could see you again.”

“A tall order for you, hmm? I’ve seen your arithmancy scores.” she tried to tease.

 

“You wound me, Princess.” He softly whispered, as he entwined their fingers, that squeezed her heart; it was so sincere, so soft. It dug into her, eyebrows furrowing at the thought of actually wounding him. How could a response she had heard so many times affect her in such a way? An apology was on the tip of her tongue but was interrupted by James loudly directing everyone to the great hall. She felt guilty as she realized she had completely missed Remus arriving. She never noticed the sneering on his face as he recognized that her attention was no longer on him. She moved to follow, but he quickly slid her arm into his, smiling as he asked.

 

“Shall I escort you, Princess?” He tugged gently on her arm, a soft look upon his face.

"Yes, that would be lovely. However would I have managed without you.” She playfully rolled her eyes before leaning into his lead. They walked in silence for a moment it filled her with peace, before Remus arrived to walk on her other side.

 

“Hey Mia, it’s good to see you.” He was smiling, although he did look a bit peakier than she would have liked.

“Its good to see you too. Writing is nice, but I’ve come to miss seeing your face. You’ve all thoroughly conditioned me to your wildness.” she laughed.

 

His smile widened, although his eyes tracked past her face.

“We’ll have converted you soon enough, right, mate? I just don’t think Hogwarts would still be standing, though.” Remus tried to bring Sirius into the mix.

“It would survive, maybe.” She was smirking this time, her eyes sparkling.

“I think old Dumbledore would have to turn over his spot if we all colluded together.” Sirius smiled tightly.

 

“Its good to see you, Remus.” He still kept his pace, still kept his arm securely within Hermione’s grasp as he held out his free hand to offer a shake. Remus leaned in, brushing his shoulder against her to shake his hand. It was a bruising grip. Remus’s eyebrow raised, his eyes turning to observe where Sirius’s eyes were focused. He smirked when he realized it was where his shoulder connected with Hermione’s. How fun. He leaned closer this time, whispered a joke in her ear that she laughed at. Remus could smell the anger rolling off him. The poor boy was besotted. He laughed; it blended into hers. He could hear the low growl that escaped his lips, this wolf picking it up. He excused himself, nodding to Sirius, and noticing the way he relaxed once he put some distance between them, he’d tease him about this later. He caught up to James and whispered conspiratorially in his ear. James looked back and eyed them before grinning.

 

August 5th, 1972, Potter Manor

 

He had always imagined all the ways that Walburga had tortured him- had thought at the time that there could not be anything more excruciating. Yet as he aged, as his world broadened, as he experienced more, he nearly laughed at his younger self. Torture of the mind? Agonizing, but bearable. Torture of the flesh? Flesh healed; it was a familiar cycle of pain, of soreness, and then tender renewal. He had been beaten and healed enough to not fear it at this point. Nothing- Nothing compared to the torture of the soul. He had surmised that he must have been a dark lord in a previous life, for his life could only be one continual act of penance- to feel the grating agitation, the desperate desire to separate, to capture and hide the piece of himself that had existed separately. That had been torn from him to house itself in a masterful work of auburn and gold. To see her smile directed to another, to realize her laugh could be heard, could be savored by others, could grace anyone else but him, and gods, the rage he felt when they dared to pull her touch from his flesh. No nothing could be worse. For he knew that while a part of him, she existed separately; she desired, she was free to flutter about and grace her golden touch to whomever she wished, free to bless or deny whomever she wished- even if it was a black and battered piece of herself that waited on bated breath to just exist in her presence. He felt consumed.

 

Sirius quietly escorted Hermione about the manor, their arms intertwined as he rubbed soothing circles on the small piece of uncovered skin at her wrist. The rest of the group was ahead of them- all but one of the Potters leading as James enthusiastically explained what heroes lined the portraits in the hall, how the manor was built, and how long the family had resided there. Lily and Severus's curious gazes were unable to hide their equal enthusiasm. Remus had joined the group shortly after Hermione. He was a bit peaky but silently took in the opulence of Potter Manor; his green eyes would wander, sometimes back toward them. He barely heard a word, barely saw anything outside of the pale skin under his thumb as he wondered what kind of divine sacrifice had made her skin seem so smooth- he had read about the Muggle religions, about the sacrifices to omniscient gods of old. Surely if his life was one long penance, she was his divine law, his guiding hand, judge, and executioner, for only she provided relief from his colorless, cold existence, and only she seemed capable of wounding him so.

 

“Siri?”

Oh how she blessed him.

 

“Yes, Princess.”

 

She moved her left arm up to rub his hand, the one attached to her flawless skin. His skin erupted in goosebumps, traveling like a wave trailing up his arm in a titillating caress.

“You’ve been a bit quiet; are you okay?”

 

“How could I not be? I’m in the presence of an incomparable beauty.”

She laughed, so full and hearty, it graced his ears and warmed his body- her beautiful eyes closing as she tilted her head back, her long, pale neck bared to his gaze. His eyes devoured the image she made. He wasn’t sure what these emotions, these dark impulses, were, but the feeling that took over when he indulged was sublime. She gently nudged his shoulder with her own.

 

“You’re too much! Don’t tease me like that- But really, are you all right?”

 

Oh, it was cute how she thought he was joking. He flashed her a blinding smile, his eyes tracked the light rosy blush that graced her cheeks, the tips of her ears. Oh, she was a merciful god, it seemed. His mind raced in all the ways he could make her laugh, make her blush, make her golden gaze stay upon him.

As he opened his mouth to respond, another feminine voice cut him off.

 

“Yes, dearest nephew-are you all right?”

 

It was torture. It must go hand in hand with every gift bestowed upon him. He tempered his snarl. Steel grey eyes observed him with amusement, finely sculpted eyebrows raised in challenge. He tilted his head to the side as his pace slowed to match Hermione's as he quickly scanned his estranged aunt. She was a commanding presence, a true Black in all ways- perfectly immaculate, positively Slytherin, and horribly nosy. He sighed.

 

“Never better, Auntie Dorea. Excellent company, excellent health- something I’m sure you’re familiar with.” His body subconsciously leaned toward Hermione as he squeezed her hand. The smile she gave him was terrifying.

 

“Oh, yes, something I am very FAMILIAR with, but do take care not to indulge in excess, little nephew. We Blacks are resilient to many things, but never that.” She came forward to pat his shocked cheeks, green nails gently running across his skin before elegantly releasing Hermione from his grasp. The blasted thief. Her eyes tinkling as she registered his growing frown as she pulled Hermione along, tutting over her lovely hair and complimenting her dress.

 

“Run along to your other friends , nephew; I’d like to get to know Miss Evans.”

 

This wretched family, even the ones who were supposed to be more tolerable, got his blood simmering in anger. However, his body moved on autopilot as he noticed Hermione watching him, confused and hesitant. He smiled, reassuring her-playing it off as he rushed to catch up to the group in front, gritting his teeth as soon as his back was turned. As his steps placed him in line with James, as the distance grew between them- his skin began to itch. How unbearable.

 

He had tried his best, had escorted her through the house, teased, taunted, and riled- dodged a Slytherin aunt and her co-conspirator as they chaperoned. Even the adrenaline rush of the mock quidditch match couldn’t compare to the small bursts of satisfaction that came from feeling her watch him, from hearing her call his name in concern, or even in anger after he had performed a daring aerial maneuver. He could live with the embarrassment of his mates ribbing him, even the snarky remarks from Severus once he had caught on. He wasn’t ashamed, just as long as he remained the one she watched. Lily thankfully remained oblivious as she flew through the air - she was just as competitive as James, locked in on winning rather than observing him. He didn’t need interference on Hermione’s home turf as well.

 

She was reading in the grass below, shoes off as she lay against a tree; every once in a while she would compliment or cheer, the jasmine flower crown he had conjured for her still resting atop her auburn curls. By the time they had finished the game, it was nearly dusk. The sun dipped into the horizon as it lit the sky in hues of purple and pink; fireflies danced as they emerged from the woods surrounding the manor. He walked to her, the others still talking about maneuvers and tactics for the upcoming semester. Finally, a moment alone. He sat beside her, slowly pushing her legs down to lay within her lap. It was divine. Without looking up from her book, she dropped her hand into his hair, running her fingers through his slightly windblown strands. Her nose crinkling when she encountered a particularly tangled lock, she would gently try to untangle it before continuing.

 

“Sirius”

“Yes, Princess?”

“You’ll let me see, won’t you?” She had finally graced him with her golden gaze, eyes peeking over the pages of her book. He was silent for a moment as he thought about her request; she gently ran her finger over the fabric of his shirt- right above his scar. He froze.

“Wont you?” she asked again as she set down her book.

Her eyes were glowing. He nodded as he swallowed down his nervousness. It was ugly, it was shameful, it was something he didn’t want to show anyone. But he could, because she asked, because she desired to. How could he ever deny her?

 

His skin seared as the tip of her finger ran across the bare skin of his collarbone, his heart beating wildly in his chest; he could feel the blush rising on his cheeks, his neck, and his ears—his body was burning up. He was so grateful it was getting dark. Her finger burned its path across his skin as she slowly moved his clothes to the side, exposing his scar. She didn’t say a word as her glowing eyes examined him. He shivered in her lap when she decided to run her finger over it, tracing how far it went.

 

“Who did this, Sirius?”

Her voice was low, enchanting as it coaxed him to answer.

“Who is it always?” he whispered.

“Are you safe?”

“Yes, my grandfather made it so, surprisingly.” He mentally congratulated himself on being able to speak normally.

Her eyes narrowed before he felt the overwhelming force of her magic bearing down on him. He felt intoxicated, his body ascending as she whispered a spell, utterly ruining him as she worked her magic across his scar. He barely breathed until she finished, eyes glazed as he took in the pure satisfaction on her face. His hand trembling as he reached up, she guided his hand across the place where his scar should be- it was nearly gone. A simple, smooth, thin line that barely spanned an inch. His eyes teared. Her hand came up, covering his tearing eyes from the view of the others. Her other hand returned to run her fingers through his hair once more.

 

Oh how she blessed him

Notes:

Sorry for the delay- I just wanted to say thank you all so much for all the follows and comments, it's been astounding to see how much you guys appreciate this. <3

Chapter 18: Please Think About It

Summary:

Sometimes you have to rearrange your garden for the longevity of the whole.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

TW: Physical Abuse (only seen after, not described)

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“There is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success, than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things.” – Niccolo Machiavell

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August 5th, 1972 Black Estate (Midday)

 

Arcturus stepped through the floo, dusting off the errant remains of powder on his robes. He was smiling for once; the muscles in his face, unused to such work, strained as he held back a laugh at the absurdness of it all. The talks with the Potters had gone well; they were more open to creating an alliance and moving past the disagreements and slights. They were still a powerful family, with numerous connections financially and politically; trusting in Sirius’s direction had turned out to be more fruitful than he had ever expected. He was still hesitant on the last three- the Lupins, while connected in the ministry, were a younger wizarding family, and the Evans, well, he’d never spent any time with Muggle-borns outside of a few classes during his time at Hogwarts. Muggles—well, he had only seen them from a distance, read about them in the history books, or heard of them from the stories passed down through his family. It would be harder to counteract his innate disgust. He was torn from his musing by the shivering form of Alton. His expression turned pensive as he noticed the nervous twitching of his fingers and the fluttering of his ears.

 

“Alton… What is it?”

“Master, they is waiting for you in the study. Young masters and mistresses Cygnus and Druella. Misses Andromeda as well.”

 

Before he questioned the elf further, Melania arrived, her lovely greyish blonde locks were in disarray, her gown was rumpled with specks of blood splashed across the hem. She had never appeared so distraught before him. He rushed to her side, arms coming to inspect her further, eyes grazing her wide, concerned eyes, the paleness of her skin, and the trembling of her shoulders.

“Dearest, what has happened?” Her lips trembled.

“Oh, we are ruined! It is the worst; she has brought shame upon us all-”

“Who?” he cut her off, his voice booming.

“Andromeda”

“Take me to them.”

 

Melania and Alton lead him through the estate. It was a brisk walking pace; the propriety forced into them all throughout their lives did not allow them to break into the run they so desperately wanted. The first thing that Arcturus noticed was the tangy scent of iron as he stepped into his study behind Melania’s. Blood poured from a cut on Andromeda’s cheek, her hand pressed tightly against it, small rivulets of blood leaking past to trail down her pale, thin arm. Her eyes were defiant as they noticed him, her body primed and tense as she calculated the new additions. She was dressed in elegant finery; it was a harsh contrast to the chaotic disarray around her, Druella standing behind her collapsed form, hand tangled in her curls, pulling tightly as she spat out verbal curses. Cygnus’s wand was pressed against the back of her head, his face red, veins popping on his forehead and exposed arms.

 

“What in Merlin’s name is going on?” He commanded.

“She’s broken her contract to the youngest Lestrange-”

“That should be a cause for celebration, Cygnus, not rage- I ordered all of this family to cut as many ties to that vile half-blood.”

“SHE MARRIED A MUDBLOOD- SIRED HIS SPAWN!” Druella screeched, her hand tightening as she yanked Andromeda’s head back.

His heart began to beat wildly in his chest; he started to occlude as he snapped his gaze back to Andromeda. She returned his gaze with fiery determination. He had not noticed her other hand at first; it was splayed across her abdomen- She was trying to protect the child.

“Is this true?”

“Yes, I married yesterday after finding out about the child.”

His mind raced as his hand twitched; it was instinctive, the desire to retaliate. To curse her. How dare she, HOW DARE SHE!

Sirius’s voice boomed, blocking out all of the noise around him. Blocking all other thoughts.

 

“Blood be Damned!”

 

He closed his eyes, trying to control the rage flowing through him, attempting to calm his thoughts. He pulled his wand out of his robes before opening his eyes. Thought once more of Marius.

 

“Everyone out except Andromeda.”

“What?-”

“But-”

“NOW”

 

He bellowed, eyes burning as he took in the shock on Cygnus and Druella’s faces. Melania squeezed his arm before turning to leave the study. Druella sneered as she untangled her hands from Andromeda’s hair, spitting on her rumpled form before taking Cygnus’s arm and following Melania. Once they were alone, he raised his wand. Andromeda tensed her body, shying away as she closed her eyes. From his mouth flew several locking charms and then privacy charms. His wand flicking in graceful arches as he made the study impenetrable. His last act was to lock the Floo before walking over to extend a hand to Andromeda. Her dark grey eyes just stared at him in confusion, in suspicion. He remained still, hand still extended while he waited. She slowly moved her hand from her abdomen and placed it into his. He helped her up, guiding her gently to the chair in front of his desk before kneeling on one knee and removing the hand she held to her cheek. He took in the cut; thankfully, although it bled quite profusely, it was shallow. Raising his wand once more, trying not to react as she flinched, he performed an episkey. The wound healed; not even a scar remained. He vanished the blood on her skin before standing and moving to the drink tray across the study. He poured himself a large glass of whiskey, then he filled another glass with water using aquamenti. He took both and walked back over to where she was seated. Handing her the glass of water, he moved his chair from behind the desk to sit beside her. He nearly laughed at the look of disbelief on her face; he, too, could not believe he was about to do this. He raised his glass to his lips, breathing out once before taking a large gulp. The bitter burn caused him to scrunch his nose.

 

“How far along are you?”

 

Andromeda took a sip of her water before setting it down- He couldn’t help but marvel at the elegant way she had done so. Impeccable Black manners shining even amidst strife. He took in her wild black curls, thrown into chaos by her mother, but he did not doubt that she had once had it in an intricate updo, her eyes so like her older sisters but softer. Skin pale and unblemished, fine features that could be found in every Black home. She, too, embodied so many distinct Black characteristics. All except one, all except what should have been the most important.

“The healer says I am about 8 weeks along.” She looked down as she answered.

“And what does the father think of this?”

He took another sip from his glass.

She tensed.

“He was overjoyed.”

“Who is the Father Andromeda.”

She was silent, her gaze snapping up, narrowing as she took in his expressions.

“I’d rather keep him alive, pardon my rudeness, patriarch.”

His eyebrows raised.

“If that is true, then tell me who the father is, Andromeda- Who is your husband?”

She just pursed her lips tighter.

 

“I could always leave and view it myself on the family tapestry, but I would rather save my time and ire to hear it from you instead.” He gave her a pointed look.

 

She steeled her nerves, wiping the folds of her robes before answering.

 

“Ted Tonks”

 

“And he’s a Muggle-born, correct?” Once again his finger was tapping on his thigh as his mind took in the information.

“Yes.” she whispered.

 

“Tonks… Tonks.. is he the youngest candidate accepted into Carson & Iverson’s Lawfirm?"

Surprise registered on her face as she nodded.

“Yes, yes.. he was given a pre-acceptance letter in his 7th year. It was contingent on his N.E.W.T.S scores.”

“How long have you been together?”

“Since third year, it was before the contracts with the Lestranges.”

 

He eyed the beautiful emerald sitting on her finger. She was rubbing it as she spoke.

“For that contract to be broken, it must mean that you performed an older ceremony. A traditional one, and he was okay with that?”

“Yes, he told me there was no magic too dark or light that he would perform as long as he could be my husband. We handfasted in the ways of old and bound our cores.”

 

He contemplated her words; there was no separating them now; they would be bound to each other in this life and the next. Such bold words, yet this wizard was not here; it rankled him.

“And where is this charmer? Where is the wizard who dared to defy the House of Black and poach a promised wife from the Lestranges? Where is the wizard who would allow his young pregnant wife to face her family alone?” he questioned. Instead of getting angry at his words, she simply blushed. Clearing her throat and smirking a bit before flabbergasting him.

 

“Well, he is currently sleeping. I did tell you I’d like to keep him alive, so I slipped a bit of dreamless sleep in his morning tea before heading over. He would have fought me tooth and nail, you see? Some pain? Possible banishment I can handle. If the worst came and I was outright killed- Well the thought of him gone or buried in my place.. This was better.”

 

Arcturus groaned as he closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. These wild children, vicious little things when they wanted to be. Once again she was showing all the traits of a true Black. He hoped this wizard was truly aware of what he tied himself to.

 

“Go and wake him, bring him to me; I need to speak with your husband before I make my decision. Rest assured, he will not be harmed in my presence.”

“Truly?”

“I swear it.”

Her hands were shaking now, rising from her chair on unstable legs. Arcturus rose as well, helping her from her seat and letting her go once he was sure she would not fall. She dropped into a deep curtsy, hope sparkling in her eyes, before she raced to the floo. He unlocked it with a flick of his wand. He watched as she gave him one last look before disappearing in a flash of green. He ran his hands through his hair before falling ungracefully back into his seat. Taking another swig of his whiskey, he tapped his finger on the edge of his desk. Eyes flicking to the once empty portrait of Phineas Black. He was there now, in all his finery- silent as he listened. It took nearly twenty minutes before Andromeda returned, this time with her husband. Ted Tonks was a tall wizard, fair-haired and stout- certainly considered classically handsome, Arcturus presumed. The way Andromeda looked at him was as if he was Merlin reborn. He was dressed in traditional robes; some pieces looked off. He expected it was a Muggle twist that was incorporated. He noticed the small gestures, the way he placed himself in front of her, how he held her hand, how his magic seemed to form around her as if it was trying to keep her from harm. He was tense, even more so than she had been earlier, but he still had an air of confidence, of force, as he met his gaze. The couple came to a stop just before his chair; he stood, readjusting his robes before offering his hand to Ted. Andromeda gasped, Ted confused as he firmly shook his hand. Arcturus absently thought that he shook his hand like any other Pureblood wizard.

 

“I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you under different circumstances, but I believe this might be the only way we would have met face-to-face until recently. Arcturus Octan Black.” He nodded his head before taking a seat and gesturing for Andromeda to sit as well. He noted how Ted helped her into her seat, how he moved to stand behind her chair, hands gripping the top as he executed perfect etiquette.

 

“It, too, is a pleasure to finally meet you, patriarch, but yes, I agree, this meeting was a slim possibility I resigned myself to never experiencing. There were many things I wished to do differently but was unable to, considering my lovely wife’s family history.”

 

Well that was a pointed verbal stabbing, eloquently done.

 

“Normally these talks are done before the marriage occurs- as you know, Andromeda has been raised, may be expecting a certain level of finery and care, being the daughter of a prominent family like mine. How are you expecting to provide that for her? Surely not relying on my family’s coffers?” he lobbed a point of his own. Eyebrows raised as he waited for his answer.

 

“My family may not be as well known in the magical world, but the Tonks are moneyed in the Muggle world. I have money of my own to support us, certain inheritances should they be needed. I have arranged jobs in both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds, should there be any issues from our marriage. Andromeda will want for nothing; she will not have to work if she so chooses, but she has chosen a mastery in healing, and so I shall support her financially, emotionally, or in any way should she need help obtaining it.”

 

All of the stories his mother used to whisper to him, how Muggles were dirty, dumb savages that could barely survive, how Muggle-borns were magic-stealing thieves, barely capable of controlling the magic they’d stolen, if anything else. How those stories turned into fact, truths passed around at prestigious events between other sacred 28. Into the laws, covertly slipped into bills that had passed. Some bills he had even voted on. Yet here stood a capable, intelligent wizard. Someone who felt like a real wizard, who looked like a real wizard. Who would have never been suspected to be anything less than a Pureblood until they heard his last name. He made his decision.

 

“I will allow this- I understand that seems pointless since the deed is already done. You will hold off on any announcements to the public. I do not want this to affect your sister’s marriage to the Malfoy boy. Andromeda, I will ensure that you retain access to your dowry vault and will be opening up a separate one for the child. Should the child be born without magic, those funds will be exchanged to Muggle currency to ensure proper continued care; if they are born with magic, it shall stay with Gringotts. The child, although not named Black, will be accepted as a ward to ensure they have access to the proper Black family properties, etc. Do you need a residence?”

 

Andromeda and Ted lost all propriety as their faces gaped, mouths open in shock as if his words were not registering. Thankfully, Ted was able to come to his senses and answer.

 

“Um, no, no residence needed. I have already bought a cottage on some acreage that we have been moving into.”

He polished off the last of his whiskey before standing again.

“Well, off you go then- I must deliver my decision to the rest of the family, and you’ve had a trying morning. I suggest you steer clear of your parents; they may not take the news as well.”

 

Andromeda jumped up from her seat, rushing forward to pull him into a crushing hug. A muffled “Thank you, grandfather” was heard as she pushed her face into his chest. He slowly came up to return her hug. She pulled away, tears in her eyes, but the brightest, most lovely smile he had ever seen graced her face. She returned to Ted, pulling him along. Ted stopped in front of him, bowing his head in thanks before following his wife.

Phineas, silent, extended a nod of acceptance, of praise, before leaving his frame.

 

As he stood alone in his study, his mind racing with all the things he would have to change, to maneuver before taking a large breath and undoing his privacy charms.

 

Oh, the joys of being Patriarch.

 

August 5th, 1972 Potter Manor (Evening)

 

The Potters crowded around in Fleamont’s study; James had headed off to bed after exuberantly sharing all the things he had done with his friends. They had ooh’d and aww’d at all the acceptable places. Euphemia was exceptionally happy; James had always had such a lonely childhood. They had tried for so many years to have children, to the point that it was too painful to continue, too painful to relive every miscarriage, every moment that their excitement and love were crushed in loss. She had bonded deeply with Dorea who faced the same; their bond strengthened once she was blessed with James. She had helped her enormously throughout her pregnancy and after- she was a second mother to James in all ways but blood.

 

“Well, let’s address the occamy in the room- How much do you think we can trust Arcturus?” Charlus questioned as he passed around drinks. Fleamont was pensive; Dorea was sparkling with mischief. Once he finished, he took a seat next to his wife on the couch.

“Well, it feels right, all of his flowery words are matching with action- and well, he actually acknowledged us today.” Euphemia expressed as she sipped her drink.

 

“Yes, but will that extend outside of closed doors?” Fleamont, muttered.

“Ah yes, the true question- the true test.” Charlus chirped; he leaned in to kiss Dorea’s temple.

“Oh, it’s real. A poncy git like Arcturus, while a perpetual pain most of my life, has never been one to extend false offers. Much rather bankrupt or socially destroy.” Dorea stated.

They all shared a grim face as the implications of her words registered through the alcohol.

“Should we let Dumbledore know?” Fleamont looked to his brother. Charlus was more involved with Dumbledore in the ministry than he was.

“I think for now, we keep this quiet until we are more aware of his motives.”

 

Dorea snorted. Euphemia smiled as they shared a knowing glance.

 

“I think we all know what the motive is after the articles that came out this year- plus I don’t think he’ll have much choice to side a bit more progressively much longer.” Dorea hummed.

Charlus and Fleamont sat clueless; Euphemia huffed before educating them. Men. Especially Potter men were terrible at recognizing these things.

 

“Darling, his heir is absolutely besotted with that pretty Muggle-born girl.”

“Wait, really? Which one?” Charlus questioned.

 

“Hermione.” Euphemia explained.

 

“I nearly squealed in delight as he almost hexed me for stealing the girl from his arms. He was posturing like a peacock at every chance he could. He even gave me the glare- the Black glare!”

“Black glare?” Fleamont laughed, knocking back his drink and leaning further into his chair.

 

“Oh yes, it’s quite impressive; it really only comes up when we find our people. It’s blistering, half mad in defiance. I feel for my little nephew. She’s a brilliant girl, pretty too. He’s going to have a tough time once others start recognizing it.” Dorea gossiped. Charlus smiled as he nodded along to her words.

 

“Hmm, yes, I remember that glare fondly- I got to see it myself after watching Dorea love go at it with her parents when she valiantly defended our marriage.” She slapped his arm, laughing.

 

“I think James and the others figured it out as well- They were teasing him toward the end.” Euphemia giggled. Suddenly a frown formed on Dorea’s face as she stared into her drink, swirling the liquid around. Her eyes were distant.

“Well, if Arcturus is not being truthful, I’ll keep a room ready at our home should my nephew need it.”

They all fell into a somber mood after her declaration. It was well known what the Black family did with their undesirables. Especially those that still carried the surname.

“Yes, yes, we will as well- It would be a good idea. He’ll need all the support he can get.” Euphemia vowed.

 

September 14th, 1972 Hogwarts

 

Hermione huffed as she pulled out another book she had stacked on the table next to her. She was nearly finished with the map she was designing; there was a small hitch with the last-minute spell combinations clashing that she was now trying to figure out a solution for. Amy slid in the seat beside her, pulling out her homework before leaning over to rest her head on Hermione’s shoulder.

“So, you’ve been holding out on me.”

She just smiled before resting her head on Amy’s blonde locks.

“Hmm, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Amy just moved her parchment closer as she tried to write at the odd angle they were in.

“First, you don’t mention a peep about spending the summer with those Gryffindor boys in any of your letters.” She wrote harshly with her quill.

“Well, it was only a day, and you know Severus used to live near me, so that’s a no-brainer.”

“Mhmm, but still, it’s the principle. Second, you have yet to elaborate—even under significant pressure- why you’ve suddenly gained your very own Black shadow.” Hermione laughed at the nickname. There had been whispers that turned into quiet conversations; those in turn were now loud questions that she had dodged daily. Since their return to school and the division of their classes, Sirius had appeared after every class to walk her to the next; it wasn’t even just the small moments in between—it seemed like he just knew where she was and appeared. Late nights in the kitchen? He would find her. Lazing about on the greens outside? He would come and steal her lap. Quiet moments in the library? He’d force the person next to her out of their seat and would lean into her shoulder. In the one class they shared, Herbology? Forget about any other partner. She hated it- mostly because she loved it so much. The Hogwarts gossip was rampant, but one thing they all seemed to agree on was calling him her Black Shadow. Sirius, of course, took it in stride, nearly beaming every time he heard it being whispered. The boys teased him relentlessly; Lily questioned her relentlessly instead. After she had healed him, it seemed like a whole new Sirius unlocked- this was the Sirius of old. The Sirius that was wild, brash, and affectionate in all the stories Remus had told her and Harry. Intense and loyal. It seems like she was now getting the full experience instead of the small tastes in her past life.

 

“We are just good friends, bonded over the summer in letters- Really Amy. If there was anything else, I’d tell you. Badgers honor.” She leaned on her more.

“Well, you better, because I recently read about a particular hasty hex. Let’s see how much your shadow would enjoy you with excessive toe jam, face boils, and long nose hairs.” Amy threatened.

 

“Why, she’d make a particularly lovely mini troll, I’d say. Scoot over, puff, you’re in my spot.” Sirius exclaimed from behind them, it made Amy squeal in surprise as she knocked her head on Hermione’s. They both groaned, but Sirius zeroed in on Hermione. He took her face into his hands, checking the side of her head that had collided with Amy. Concern on his face as he checked, he sighed in relief when she assured him she was fine. Amy grumbled that she was “fine too, thanks for asking.” Hermione could barely hold back her smile.

 

“Hello Siri.”

“Hello, Princess.”

He replied softly, a smile spreading across his face.

 

September 29th, 1972 Hogwarts

 

She had to bite her tongue from yelling out; all of her dorm mates were sleeping, but the excitement and exhilaration running through her veins made it difficult to reel it in. She had finally completed the map. She had thought that she had finished it earlier in the month but came across the horrifying realization that the map displayed everything that carried a piece of his magic instead of the concentrated soul pieces it would need to track. Every Death Eater across the country, across the globe, lit the map- it was horrifying to realize the scope of his reach. It was international at this point, nearly global. It had triggered her nightmares again, night after night she would relive those last days on the hunt. Sometimes she would still get phantom pains on the arm that Bellatrix had carved into. She had hidden her exhaustion well; it seemed like Sirius was the only one that realized something was off. He’d been pestering her to tell him what was wrong. She giggled softly at the possible look on his face if she told him she was a semi-time traveler reborn in a temporal paradox. He’d probably just call her barmy and escort her to the nearest healer. She had eased his worries as the nightmares weaned, but he was still suspicious. She had been able to distract him with an idea for a prank- he had soaked it up, nearly bolting to relay it to the boys once she was done. But the sneaky lion had only acquired helpers in all houses to covertly check in on her or ask if she needed anything. It was sweet but maddening when she was trying to create a secret map.

 

She picked up the map, taking in the intricate details- it was a map of the globe. She was able to transfer a Muggle topographical map onto parchment; she added individual country layers. For more details, like streets, she had picked up local maps. She added a feature to be able to add more layers if needed later, but since all the Horcruxes still resided in Britain, that is what she focused on. Six bright red dots shined on the parchment. One had feet that appeared as it traveled- currently it seemed that Voldemort himself was not within the British Isles. He was in a remote, wooded part of Romania. Her mind rushed to provide the supporting information- that region was known for the vampire enclaves. He must be trying to gain more supporters. It sickened her to know how many creatures had sided with him, then again, even the strongest could be tempted when presented with their very own version of a utopia. Dumbledore could only offer maybes, nothing concrete, nothing actionable, and everyone had suffered for it. It was the main reason she pushed to change things so early; she needed the social culture to be more receptive to change, to acceptance, in order to damage his cause more effectively. It was a double-edged sword in one moment it delegitimized him and the cause’s message- yet he was insanely intelligent, that was the one thing she could never deny about him. She just hoped he was too prideful presently to realize while she had damaged him in one way, he could still piggyback on the barely blooming acceptance of “lesser blood” and try to gain power under the guise of a misguided childhood. He was a true slytherin- he could tweak his message just enough to be palatable to the masses. Her hand trembled as she traced each Horcrux on the map.

 

Diadem- Hogwarts, room of requirement, located near entry on side table

Locket- Sea side cave - 2 miles outside Little Hangleton

Ring- Gaunt Shack, Box under the Floor, 1st floor

 

Diary- Malfoy Manor, 3rd Library, second wall on the left, third row

Cup- Lestrange Estate, master study desk, third drawer

 

If only she had thought of this earlier, if only she could have saved them so much trouble on the run. Maybe Harry had been right all those years ago. Maybe she hadn’t been doing enough, giving enough.

 

Her happiness faded away as guilt weighed heavily in her gut.

 

October 1st, 1972 Hogwarts Headmaster’s Office

 

She was confident as she strode into Dumbledore’s office. She was surprised he had arranged everything so quickly; normally their visits took weeks to set up. He had decided to include a semi-familiar face, it seemed. There was anger boiling under her skin. How dare he try to catch her off guard. How dare he try to include others without her input. She would be requiring a vow from both men by the end of the night. She should have required it the first time but decided to trust him with at least that. Well, no more. There, standing next to his desk, was a young, double-eyed, double-legged version of Alastor Moody. He was surprisingly handsome, with sharp features and wavy, wheat-colored hair that framed blue eyes. He was just as impressive and imposing as before. His electric blue eyes narrowed on her as she took a seat, his hand clenching his wand. Apparently just as cautious and vigilant as before, it seemed.

 

“Professor, Mr. Moody, it’s good to see you. I hope all is well.” She casually greeted them, wiggling to get comfortable in her chair before looking at both of them.

Surprise rose on both men’s faces. She could see the numerous questions whirling through their minds; she could imagine the interrogation she would go through by both men, she could feel how much longer things would drag on into the night. She was tired, still having trouble sleeping, and decided she didn’t want to play the mental gymnastics today. definitely didn’t want to allow them to lead the conversation. So she blazed ahead like the Gryffindor she used to be.

 

“So, how would you fancy killing a Basilisk with me?”

 

Both men paled.

 

Their reactions were well worth the sleepless nights.

Notes:

Thank you all once again- I'll be going through and cleaning up some of the earlier chapters. I swear I read through them a thousand times, but they are still riddled with grammar and spelling issues- ugh. It bothered me so much I bought a service to check it. Shout out to languagetool on chrome lol- No beta we die like (wo)men!

Chapter 19: A Long Haired Lover from Liverpool

Summary:

Some of the most resilient flowers have the deepest roots.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; this is my first fanfic.

---

“It’s a good sign but rare instance when, in a relationship, you find that the more you learn about the other person, the more you continue to desire them. A sturdy bond delights in that degree of youthful intrigue. Love loves its youth.”

― Criss Jami, Killosophy

---

October 7th, 1972 Hogwarts

 

Hermione could still hear the light snoring of her dorm mates as her wand started to vibrate on the desk beside her bed. She was wide awake and had been for a long while. She had chosen to just lie in her bed and marvel at the replicated early morning sky instead of rising early. Every morning since their arrival back, she had resumed her early morning training: light calisthenics and cardio. As Voldemort started ramping up his attacks, the pressure to be in peak condition haunted her mind. Magic was lovely; it truly was, but it enabled a very sedate life. Walking the castle helped; the endless stairs helped, but when it came down to life or death, she could still remember how weak- how winded—she had been on the run. Now quidditch might have helped; it was certainly the most physical aspect of life as a witch or wizard, which was a shame since she was still pretty terrified on a broom. Better, able to enjoy light flies around the pitch but noting that involved dodging, dipping erratically, or rolling of any kind. She rolled out of bed, yawning heavily as she was finally hit with how tired she actually was. It was as if the comforting cotton sheets had absorbed and shielded her from it; now that she had left their protective cocoon, it was all released at once. She slapped her cheeks, shaking her head before heading over to her trunk and pulling out her workout clothes. Sirius would be waiting for her. He had caught her in the halls the first week back as she made her way to train and had asked, then begged, and then threatened to come along. Initially she had tried to sway him because she knew undoubtedly he hated mornings- he was barely tolerable past 9 am, and she had a distinct feeling it was still the same here.

 

But he had played a dirty, rotten trick. He moped, he pouted, and hit her with the saddest-looking face she had ever seen and quietly whispered that he just wanted to spend more time with her. Gods. It had nearly knocked her off her feet, and of course she crumbled. Who wouldn’t?

That prat’s expressions flipped on a dime; he gave her an arrogant smirk before running off to change. She had never felt so confused because on one hand she was ecstatic he wanted to join her, and on the other she wanted to throttle him for exploiting her weakness. Since that moment he had been an excellent workout partner- plus on the mornings he moaned and groaned, crying about how it was ‘too bloody early.’ Well, it was like a reward.

 

Once she was dressed, she pulled her hair up into a ponytail, pulled her bag from the bed, and made her way up to the great hall. She found him standing in front of the window next to the doors that led outside. Her eyes appreciating his form- He was still growing taller, it seemed; day by day her neck tilted just a bit more to look him in the eye, his shoulders grew broader, and his legs longer. His shoulder-length hair still wild and carelessly perfect. He was dressed in a white shirt and black pants. She would configure his longer pants into shorts once they were out running- it amused her to no end as she remembered the bright blush that bloomed on his face when she first explained the best workout clothes to him. She teased him over his pureblooded propriety, but they compromised after his long-winded, very creative reasoning on why he just didn’t want other blokes seeing him in what he considered was essentially similar to wizarding underwear. She swore he nearly died when she just asked if that meant he wanted her to see him in underwear instead. Which was also confusing because he loved jogging and working out without a shirt, something he teased her relentlessly over. She couldn’t help it sometimes; her eyes would just betray her and find their way to admire his form. So what did she learn? Chest okay. Legs bad. Boys, still weird.

 

“Morning, Siri.”

He turned to face her, a smile illuminating his face; it was breathtaking.

“Morning, Princess, are you ready?”

She couldn’t help but return his smile.

“Absolutely, let’s go.”

She moved to walk around him, but he just frowned at her, eyebrow raised as his hand extended. She just looked confused for a bit before he started waving his hand in a ‘give me’ motion and gesturing to her bag. She gave a soft oh, before taking off her bag and handing it over to him. He slipped it on, hitting it with a sticking charm so it wouldn’t move around. He had started forcing her to give it over after a day or two of seeing the charm come undone while they ran and the bag’s movement bothering her. He stared intently at her face; after finding what he was looking for, he gave her another breathtaking smile before leading them both to the trail they normally ran.

 

She was starting to enjoy these mornings immensely; they hardly talked, communicating with grunts and gestures, but it was always comforting, always easy. He would match her pace, seemed to know exactly when she needed a break, and exactly when he needed to push her. And he was intelligent, easily picking up the reasons for each of the forms they performed once their run was done. He stopped once he reached the beginning of the trail. He nodded to her before starting his stretches; she would catch him peeking every once in a while. It took them a few minutes before they could start their run, but once done, they headed off on their trail, leading them around the Black Lake. The sun was just beginning to peek through the clouds. It was just starting to get cold; short bursts of cool wind helped them along. She couldn’t help but think, It really was perfect.

 

Her wand vibrated; she was sweaty, hair clinging to the back of her neck as she pushed through her last push-up; she had a pinch in her side that would just not go away. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply before collapsing on the conjured mat. Her whole body was sore; she could feel the steady thumping of her heart down to the tips of her toes. She nearly cried in relief when she felt a cool hand brush the flyaway curls off her face.

 

“All good there, Princess?"

 

She just mumbled into the mat. He laughed, a deep, hearty barking sound.

 

“I think that’s a maybe. Come on up you go.”

 

She felt him tug on her hand; rolling over, she looked up to see him grinning, bowed at the waist over her as he waited for her to try to get up. She pulled heavily on his hand, helping herself up, but he barely budged. Once she was back on two legs, his other hand moved to hold her arm, helping walk her over to the stone ledge they were next to. Once he had her seated, he brazenly rummaged through her bag to find the thermos she normally carried water in. When he found it, he opened it up and handed it to her. She quietly thanked him, gulping down a few mouthfuls before handing it back. He took some sips of his own before returning it to her bag, situated on his waist. Seeing it reminded her.

 

“Here, come closer, Siri.”

 

Curious, he moved into the space next to her sitting form. She reached out, pulling his body closer, maneuvering him to where her bag was in arm’s reach. She shoved her arm down into the bag before pulling out what looked like a stack of magazines. When she patted the seat next to her, he didn’t hesitate to take it.

 

“These are actually for you. I know you and James made the reserves for the Gryffindor teams this year. And since you’re a beater, I brought you these because plenty of muggles work out like we do, except there are some extra forms that help with building strength.”

His eyebrows raised to his hairline as he quietly took the magazines from her.

 

“But why are the dudes half naked?!?!” he blurted out.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

He had congratulated himself on his brilliance. He had been able to successfully curb his growing need to be around her, to keep her attention- to feel her intoxicating magic- by just… being where she was. It was a simple decision. Although he now seemed to also crave knowing every little thing about her. What was her favorite tea? Earl Grey with a splash of lemon and sugar—she would drink this religiously after their workouts. What did she like to eat? Lighter fare- Fruits, egg whites, and toast for breakfast—she’d sneak more fruits or biscuits throughout the day, especially when she seemed stressed. Sugar quills were reserved for studying-pastries if pressured in a group. Dinner was always chicken or fish with veggies. She reserved especially fatty food for celebrations. Bangers and Mash, she had mentioned that at least 10 times in stories she had told the other puffs. Pumpkin juice was her guilty pleasure- he could tell how her face lit up once she gave in and had a glass. What did she enjoy reading? He had found that her favorite wizarding book was Hogwarts, a History, but she had hundreds of favorites in Muggle literature. It seemed like she just had favorite authors and devoured their works. He learned how she would twitch her nose if she found something she didn’t like, how her eyebrows would raise in panic when anyone mentioned flying, and how often she stained her fingers with ink. At least 6 times a day he’d have to vanish the mess each time he saw her, or else she’d just end up rubbing some on her face or clothes, even his in some cases. He knew the sound of her breathing when she was content, when she struggled, and when she was just being polite because etiquette dictated it. Each new piece of information he learned filled in the maddeningly lovely puzzle of who she was. Each thing helped feed his growing desire to know.

 

But the more he learned, the more he craved for more, the more he raged internally when he found that others might know something about her that he didn’t. Like Severus, that git casually mentioned their summers together, their mornings together in her house. Severus knew, he KNEW, and he didn’t. He didn’t know what her home looked like, how she decorated her room, what pajamas she wore, or how she interacted with her family. It is what led him to being her workout companion in the mornings. The thought had driven him slightly mad, something he could be honest about now. He was blowing off steam by exploring the castle one early morning and had been blessed.

 

Now he knew, knew what noises she’d make in the mornings, the sounds of her discontent or happiness. The form of her body as it stretched, how it felt when he helped her through more difficult forms, how her hands felt on him when she tried to help him in return. He knew the distinct sound of her steps. How she looked after a good run, after an intense workout. All the signs and cues her body gave, his eyes tracked, and his mind documented and stored. But now she had just handed him a large stack of what seemed like all-male Muggles in the hopes that he would- Enjoy it? Oh no, did she think he liked blokes? Well, he thought about it, he could appreciate some male forms, but he preferred women, preferred her. He just stared at her incredulously.

 

She took one look at his face and laughed loudly, bursting into uncontrollable giggles. He flushed, unsure why she was laughing or how to politely decline the gift she had given him. She was nearly breathless before she stopped.

 

“Sirius, you read the articles… This is like your quidditch international; it’s just that these professionals work solely on muscles, or in the rugby ones, they work out and teach you what moves to do that build certain groups of muscles.”

 

“But why half naked?” She blushed before leaning forward to peek at the magazines in his hands. She took the first and opened it a few pages. He noticed how her blush seemed to deepen once she got to a page showing several Muggles flexing.

 

“Well, see, they have to be able to see the muscle definition. They get judged on how well they can build them or fit a certain standard. You won’t need anything as intense as these guys, but it could help you play.”

“Oh”

“Yes, Oh.”

 

They finished their workout, splitting up to return to their dorms to shower and change before breakfast. He stepped in front of the mirror in the bathroom, a towel draped around his waist as he examined his chest and arms, his head tilting as he tried a few poses he had seen in the magazines she had given him. He had noticed the way her eyes had dilated and her blush had spread when she had shown him those ‘professionals.’ Maybe trying out a few exercises without her would be good. He imagined her making that expression when looking at him instead.

 

Yes, definitely good.

 

 

October 26th, 1972 Hogwarts

 

Remus could barely believe his eyes, the Prophet shaking in his hands as he re-read the article over and over again. He didn’t have the courage to open the letter his father had sent- He didn’t want to get his hopes up, didn’t want to ruin his day, but Merlin, it was tempting. He covertly turned his eyes on the Slytherin table. Severus seemed just as surprised- the snakes around him looking at him with curious gazes. His grandfather must not have told him anything. He heard a low growl from his right and rolled his eyes. Sirius was an excellent mate but absolutely barmy sometimes. He felt soft hands run across his shoulders. His eyes finally tracked them as dainty pale hands pushed past his shoulders to hug him tightly- resting on his chest as the left side of his face and neck were tickled by familiar curls. He leaned into the face next to his. Her scent calmed him slightly.

“Excellent news this morning, wouldn’t you say, Remus?”

“Mornin’ Mia, yes, excellent news indeed.”

“I saw you got a letter.”

“Spying on me now?” He smirked. Sirius dropped his fork, slightly cursing under his breath.

“Of course, everyone thinks James is the brains of the pranking trio, but I know you’re the hidden mastermind. I have to keep an eye out- you know, for safety and mental health reasons.”

 

He laughed at that, one hand coming up to pat her arm as he set down the Prophet. Sirius sighed in relief once she removed her arms and came to sit down on the seat beside him. Remus noticed how he leaned into her space, eyes locked on her face. When she smiled at him, he lit up like a bloody Lumos. Sirius was so ridiculous that he felt a bit insane that he was starting to register all his little ticks as normal at this point.

 

“Remus, come find me when you’re ready to read the letter, okay?”

“Okay, I will.”

“Wait, Mai, before you go, take a look at the details on this operation.” James begged, his hands coming up to make quotation marks after saying the word operation. Remus rolled his eyes; James couldn’t have been more obvious on what he was referencing.

 

“Sure, but I’m not finishing it like last time- you crumbled under pressure with McGonagall so badly last time that she’s been side-eyeing me all month.”

“Yes, yes, plausible deniability and all that.”

 

He smiled as he watched them argue, the look of pure disgust on her face as she realized they might be messing around with troll bogies. Their pranks were fairly harmless now, something he felt so much relief in; there was always the pressure to go along with what the other two wanted. They fed off each other, making the pranks wilder and wilder, but James, like Sirius, could be a bit clueless to the point of being cruel. All he had to do now was threaten Mia or casually mention how she might feel about the direction. Sirius would backtrack so fast, and in turn James followed. Very efficient, he liked it. Everyone was surprised when the titles reappeared; a few new first years were caught off guard when they received one. It happened so rarely now, but he was glad she kept it in place. He picked up the Prophet once more- his eyes rereading the words.

 

 

BREAKING NEWS- SHOCKING DEVELOPMENT

PRINCE ENTERPRISES ANNOUNCES WOLFSBANE POTION

COLLABORATION WITH CREATOR

DAMOCLES BELBY

Article by: Collin Everette

Prophet Journalist and Medical Liason

 

This news is shocking medical communities all over the globe. For centuries there has been no cure, no relief for anyone who was infected from a werewolf’s bite. They would be cursed to transform into mindless, rabid beasts- endowed with superior strength, senses, and prey drive, they would turn on anyone no matter the connection.

 

But today a young wizard named Democles Belby has revolutionized what was thought possible in werewolf relief. His claims?

While unable to prevent the transformation completely, he has provided a way for the cursed to retain the most important part- their mind. In his initial studies, he found that all participants were able to retain their mental faculties after the change; this eliminated the curse’s bestial urges and rendered the participants harmless. They were capable of coexisting peacefully with loved ones throughout the entire night. (See: study findings attached below.)

Belby credited his success to the Princes. He was able to work in conjunction with the company development division and utilize their aconite stores. Prince Enterprises has announced they will be working on the potion distribution and be the primary provider for aconite in further batches.

 

“I started this just wanting to be of help, and I couldn’t have done it as quickly or as successfully without the prince’s help.”

 

They are currently working alongside St. Mungo’s and the Ministry to work out effective production and protocols. ICW and MACUSA are in contact as well.

 

More to follow.

 

 

October 31st, 1972 Hogwarts

 

The castle was decked in black, gold, white, and orange; Halloween was in full force this year. Professor Flitwick and the planning committee had done a beautiful job, with charmed bats, floating candles- more than usual—and self-carving pumpkins. Small bags of candy zipped around; if you were fast or clever enough to catch them, they opened up and spit out sweet treats, although if you were unlucky, they would produce something absolutely foul like clipped toenails or chewed-up quills. It was a silly and slightly diabolical take on trick-or-treat. The boys had pranked some pastries to provide charmed face paint; there were ghouls, trolls, hags, ghosts, and more. It also placed a temporary charm over the school robes, changing the appearance to match. She was currently charmed as a terribly done Muggle version of a vampire, with a cheesy blood drip and frilled collar to match. James was an exceptionally better-smelling troll, and while she suspected Sirius of manipulation, he was a devilishly handsome knockoff Dracula. Remus was a ghost, his complexion nearly translucent with a complementary white haze that would follow. Lily had won the lottery and got charmed as a fairy, glitter-like sparkles that decorated her face and hair, and beautiful wings that sprouted from her back.

 

She had laughed and enjoyed the festivities- but she had torn herself away from the merriment in the great hall. She took her time, disillusioned, as she traveled through the unmarked passages she remembered from the map. Once she made it outside a familiar wooden door, she dropped the spell. Stepping inside, she took a deep breath, eyes taking in the stalls and sinks that she had spent months brewing next to.

 

She turned and locked the bathroom door, setting up protection and notice-me-nots on the door. She cast a finite, allowing the costume to fade. Then she pulled a small log from her bag, she conjured an altar, and she set it atop. From there she pulled out a golden goblet, a vial of snake’s blood, an older prophet article, and a school photo and arranged the paper and the photo on the log. She pulled out a collection of herbs, of fruits, and of foods, setting them up on plates around the altar. She pulled four candles, setting them up around the altar and lighting them. She walked over to the window and opened it slightly.

 

“Myrtle?” she hesitantly called out.

A shy, pigtail-ed girl peeked out of the first toilet; she was still wearing her uniform from the day she died. She looked so young, but she looked exactly the same as she had remembered. It was a devastating blow to realize that for all the complaining and fun that many had made over the years about her, herself included- she died when she was 12. Just 12 years old when a closeted psychopath unleashed a monster on her simply because her parents didn’t have magic. No matter how annoying some found her, no young child deserved this.

“Hello- Who are you?” She tilted her head, eyeing her suspiciously.

“My name’s Hermione, Hermione Evans.”

“Have you come to make fun of me? Everyone always comes to make fun of me.”

“Oh no, I’ve actually come to help you, if you’d like.”

“Help me how? No one has ever offered to help me before.” She was rising out of the toilet more now, curiously eyeing the altar she had erected.

 

“I heard about what happened to you, and it made me sad. So, I’ve come to offer you a choice- I learned a way to help you cross over, to leave this restroom. No one should be forced to spend eternity in a place like this. Or if you don’t want to, all I ask is that you allow me to leave you a Samhain offering.”

 

The candles around the altar fluttered, and Myrtle shot out of the toilet, rushing to her. It startled her enough that she took a step back. She looked crazed as she yelled, her essence pressing down on Hermione. Her magic rushed to clash with the young girl.

 

“DO NOT LIE TO ME! I WANT - I WANT TO LEAVE, BUT I CANNOT, BOUND BECAUSE IT STILL BREATHES, HE STILL BREATHES! YOU LIE, YOU LIE, YOU’VE COME TO MAKE FUN OF POOR MOANING MYRTLE.” She sneered.

Her translucent eyes began to turn red; the veil was thin tonight.

 

Hermione raised her hands up in surrender, her heart beating faster as she took in the rage on the girl’s face. The desperation and despair that rolled from her ghostly form. It was crying out against her magic.

 

“I swear upon my magic, I am not here to make fun of you. I swear upon my magic that my offer is genuine and true. Should you accept my help, I swear to you- It will die. He will be vanquished- will suffer for his many sins, this I swear. "

 

“You swear? You swear it? I can leave this burden to you?” she whispered, nearly deflating as she floated backward to the toilet she died in. Hermione nodded solemnly.

 

“Yes, I swear it.”

 

Ghostly tracks of translucent tears rolled down her face, and her lips trembled as she sank onto the floor outside the stall door. She looked so small as she curled inward.

 

“I want it- I want to go home. Please.” she whispered.

“Please, Hermione.”

She begged.

 

Hermione slowly turned and walked to her bag, pulling out several pieces of chalk. She charmed them to draw a circle on the floor, and the others wrote out the runes required for the ritual. Once they were done, she guided the young girl to the center of the circle and walked over to kneel in front of the altar.

 

Her ivory wand trembled as she lit the altar. Blue flames shot high as they devoured the log, her eyes focusing in on the smoldering photo of a young girl with glasses smiling as she stood in front of her parents outside the Hogwarts Express.

 

She worked into the night. As the light of the sun reached through the framed window-All she was left with was a hollow ache and whispered

Thank you.

 

 

 

November 1st, 1972 Hogwarts

 

Sirius had known something was wrong, had felt it deep within his core Halloween night; he knew something was going on when he couldn’t find Hermione. He was nearly driven mad when he learned no one else had seen or heard from her in hours. Even more so when she never returned to the dorm closer to curfew. He had paced in the common room all night. He had finally found her nestled shivering against the trunk of her favorite tree. Eyes red and puffy, glassy from recent tears. Her gorgeous curls fluttered in the cold breeze as she watched the sun set. He, and many others, panicked once more when she seemed to simply appear in her bed and refused to leave her dorm or attend classes. Panicking once again when she disappeared from that dorm just as mysteriously.

 

He sat down beside her; she leaned into his shoulder. He took one of her hands, cringing at the cold, clammy feel. He slowly rubbed it, trying to bring back some warmth. Without letting go completely, he used one hand to pull his wand and cast a warming charm on them both, then conjured a blanket. She shivered against him, eyes closing as she relaxed. He scooted over just slightly before guiding her head down into his lap. He took the blanket he conjured and threw it over her body. He waited while she wiggled and readjusted before running a hand through her curls. She hadn’t said a word to him, really to anyone. But she did accept his help, and so he would wait; he would stay until she didn’t need him anymore.

 

“It’ll be okay, Princess.”

 

Her hand squeezed the thigh she was resting on. His hands never stopped running through her auburn curls. He stayed even while she fell asleep, stayed even when the stars began to rise.

Chapter 20: Half Breed

Summary:

Every good gardener knows crossing some species can be a huge boon or a momentous failure.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfiction

CW: Child abuse, child death, torture, threats of violence, reference to forced sterilization, reference to SA/Rape, Abuse.

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“The most basic of all human needs is the need to understand and be understood. The best way to understand people is to listen to them.”

― Ralph G. Nichols

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November 2nd, 1972 Grimmauld 3:32am

 

The dark and dreary form of the Black family home seemed to squeeze tighter as the mistress of the house wandered its halls; thick, vicious magic permeated the air as she haunted the halls, dark emerald nails clawing against the walls as she walked. The eerie scraping sound followed the sharp clacking of dragon-hide heels, the soft ruffling of tailored robes, and a low, soft song that fled from her ruby-painted lips. A dark and twisted wood wand speared through her hair, staking the wild brownish-black hair in an elegant but carefree bun. Draped tightly around her pale, slender neck was a heavy collar, a thin, sharp chain, weighted and oppressive- The Gilles de Rais. Its understated looks betrayed the severity of its presence.

 

The Child Killer.

 

It was a shame of the highest order in the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. Only worn by the most heinous of women in the house, those who killed, who relished in harming the youngest blood, the most vulnerable and the most valuable, the future of the house.

 

Such a beast was followed as it stalked its former hunting ground; a large, heavy form trailed after it longingly, following it suspiciously. Simply torn between basking in its aura and forcing the disgust and anger to stay shackled beneath heavy rolling waves of tumultuous emotions. Orion followed his wife as she made her way to his study- it was rare to find her in the house these days. She had left, hopping from one Black property to the next; his only indication of where she might be across the country was a collection of expense reports from Gringotts. She had not spoken to him or to anyone since Arcturus had hobbled her magic. His eyes tracked her form; for all her cruelty, for all her madness, she was still as beautiful and brilliant as she had always been. Tall, willowy, exquisite. His magic had always reached for hers, always chased- he knew some families looked down on how closely related they were. But he had known since the moment he met her that he was destined to be her partner. Whether she dragged him to heights unknown or through the broken, jagged cracks of hell, he was meant to be at her side. Two pieces of a celestial body, broken and torn, spread into hollow forms, only truly whole once they were connected once more.

 

For the first time in months, he felt whole. And so he followed, silently, solemnly, as she beckoned him into the study. He watched as she quietly studied the art upon the walls, studied the portraits, and studied the objects they’d collected together over time. She would trail her slender fingers over the books she had bought him, over the photos she had placed years ago, in a time between them that felt so long ago, yet remained freshly imprinted in his mind. Soft wisps of her hair slowly fell loose to frame her face as her head tilted, eyes curious as she seemed to spot small pieces of his life she had not been privy to. He waited, leaning against the frame of the door as he watched. When she no longer eyed his possessions, no longer attracted to the small details that made up his space-she came to stand in front of the study window, her body illuminated by the moonlight. His mind taking him to fables and myths of old- how she graced him with her sublime form, how her tantalizing curves radiated under the darkness of the witching hour, taunting him. Beguiling him. His ears were enchanted once she spoke- it was not the shrill cries that had flowed from her lips in recent years but a soft, husky timbre. A voice that made him tremble.

 

“I saw it once- I saw what the men of our family were capable of-My father, Pollux, that vile, contemptuous waste of a wizard, decided that his eight-year old daughter needed to see, needed to know what happened to those who stepped outside what was right- what was respectable. You see, I had been curious, curious about a little Half-blood boy I had met in diagon. And as the apple of my father’s eye- dumb enough, trusting enough to ask him about that boy.”

 

Her hand raised to trace unknown patterns on the glass of the window. He stepped further into the study, moving to stand in front of his desk. He was afraid to get too close. He was afraid to speak- to break this trance-like confession.

 

“So, on a November night like this one, he woke me from my bed, all smiles and laughter, as he promised me a show, promised me a grand party if I dressed quickly enough, and maybe if I was good while we were there, he would take me out to get ice cream after. I was so, so excited- what child wouldn’t be? He apparated us to a wooden field, and there in the middle was a group of men- of Knights he called them.”

 

She sighed as she shifted her form, arms coming to wrap around her waist.

 

“They were dressed in black robes, some adorned with silver masks; some were laughing, some smoking, and some were crowded around in a circle. I remember my father’s excitement as he yelled out that it was time to start the party. He told them he had been thinking about this for months. They barely registered that I was there. I remember the confusion as my excitement died-as I looked around only to see a wooden cross erected in the same field. It was the ones I’d seen in paintings, in history books. Then, those masked men, the ones huddled together in a circle, revealed two forms. It was a man, someone I remembered, someone I had met, someone I had spoken to- The Notts cousin—and a woman. She was pregnant. They were both crying, mouths moving, but I couldn’t hear- couldn’t hear anything but the laughing and the jeers.”

She tilted her head forward, her forehead resting on the glass, her loose locks, pressing against the glass, clinging to her clammy form. Little puffs from her breath decorated the window.

 

“My father left me along the tree line, petrified and fixed with a sticking hex; he said it was for the best. He waved his wand, and his clothes shifted to match the others. Then the screaming started- the pleading from Arlo. They had tied him to the cross, arms bound in spiked ropes, his blood painting his chest. He was screaming when they dragged her by the hair; he was screaming when they threw her naked form in front of him- he was screaming when they slit her belly open and ripped the babe from her. Then they were both screaming when my father bashed their child’s head in with his boots. The same pair I remember picking out with my mother as a gift. Then I was screaming, but the sound never made it past my lips; he had silenced me too. And so I watched, petrified, unable to close my eyes as they slit her throat, as they laughed and jeered, as they told Alro it was all his fault- He had decided to knock up a mudblood and sire a Halfblood. What else did he expect? What sacred 28 family would allow that disgrace?”

She turned to him, her eyes seeming to glow in the moonlight, her stare piercing as she trembled. She looked like a goddess in agony as despair dripped from her magic, bathing the study in dark, insidious tendrils.

 

‘They lit him on fire after skinning pieces from him bit by bit. Some men- those masked devils—played with her body, playing catch with pieces of their child as they watched him wither in agonizing pain. Laughing as they watched him fight against the flames and his bonds. When they were done, when their party ended- my father, drenched in blood, eyes glazed in pleasure, finally came to release me. He smiled at me; it was so warm as he whispered- that it would be me, cut apart, me burned alive, my child’s head bashed in if my attention ever strayed to anyone who wasn’t pureblood again.”

 

She pushed her body away from the window, slinking slowly to him. She reached out, his arms rushing to accept her. She raked her nails down his chest, her hands coming to rest on his waist. Nails digging into his side as she pressed her body flush against his. Her head was now resting against his chest as he leaned down to place his cheek across the top of her silky hair.

 

“I knew, I knew from the moment I held him in my arms that he would be my penance for doing nothing, for never fighting back against my father that night. Or any night after. Because as he grew, I could see a softness in him, a curiously wild nature, a stubborn tenacity- the Black fierceness emanating from his very pores. There is a girl- Kreacher, Kreacher can see it between them. Yet all I could, all I can see is that night; all my mind has been doing is putting him in Arlo’s place, his body tied tight against the cross, his blood staining his chest, his screams, his skin being flayed. Not my child, please not my child, not my son. Never, my son. And so I have donned the same wretched face- same wretched cruelty as my father—to try to save him. I never knew- I could have never known Arcturus would have allowed it, would have kept him in the family as heir. Better he resent me, better it was my hand dragging him to ruin, better they all believe we have abandoned him than dead.”

 

His arms came up to pull her tighter against him, his hands sliding up- one to hold the back of her neck as the other gripped her hip tightly. Whole once more.

 

“And now I have pledged both my sons to a monster who feeds the very same devils the delights they desired that night. What have I done, Orion? Help me, help me save our sons. "

 

She was thinner than she was the last time he held her, fragile and trembling in his arms as she cried, as she begged against his chest. He nearly scoffed at her; she didn’t need to beg, didn’t need to plead with him, for he would always follow.

 

Oh, to hell they go.

 

November 2nd, 1972 Hogwarts

 

He was silent as he crouched down, trying to curl his form as far as he could behind the tapestry- He had rushed to hide from Lucius and came across a hidden path that Hermione had once showed him. He had been delighted when the princes accepted him and his mother back into the family, delighted that they would never have to see Tobias again, delighted when they no longer had to starve-yet among all the jewels, the finery, and the acknowledgment- everything felt more hollow than before. Because he knew what true companionship felt like, he knew what care and warmth should feel like. Yet the house he once cherished, prided himself in becoming part of, was frigid and devoid of anything truly meaningful. She had warned him, Lily had warned him, and in their own twisted way the Gryffindor boys had warned him. Hermione had pulled him aside after the announcement of him becoming the heir, and while she congratulated him, she simply left him with one piece of advice.

 

“Now is the time to see, to listen, and to observe. Do not speak; allow them to show you what you’ve been blind to see.”

 

And so, he smiled, he nodded, but he never spoke- in turn, he saw the sneers when they thought he wasn’t looking, the way they would scourgify the chairs or tables he had sat in. He could hear the jeers and insults they whispered when they thought he was too absorbed to hear. He saw the venom in their gazes when they saw him with Lily, with Hermione, and with the others. He could read the contempt in their manners when they guided him to a new spell or book. He could see Lucius’s bewilderment and delighted glee when he performed a darker spell or learned a darker concept- how everything screamed of a man pleasantly surprised his pet performed better than he expected the animal to do.

 

How? How could he bear to surround himself with those who treated him as a beast when he knew what it felt like to be celebrated as a man- as a human just like any other?

 

Now he was trapped in a gilded emerald cage, surrounded by those masquerading as decent witches and wizards. Masquerading behind wealth and heritage, nothing more than monsters draped in finery. He was familiar, deeply familiar, with those who could turn on you so quickly- Tobias had given him a wealth of knowledge of gestures and tones, of facial expressions and body movements that guided him on what to avoid. Everything within him was screaming to avoid Lucius at this moment.

 

“FUCK, fuck fuck! Where did that blasted little shit go?” Lucius growled out as he patted down his ruffled blonde hair. He huffed as he worked to get his robes back into an acceptable order. Rage and annoyance flashed across his face as he tightly gripped his wand.

“Why the hell are we wasting our time trying to find a fucking Halfblood anyway?” Avery griped.

“The Dark Lord is interested in acquiring him- Prince money could help the cause; his abilities he’s shown in potions are notable as well. I’d just imperio the little vermin, but the damn curse would out me instantly.” Lucius hissed.

“You think it was Dumbledore that put it up?”

“No, Father, said the ministries looking into it. From what they have found out, it doesn’t have his magical signature. They’ve even thought about bringing an unspeakable in to study it.”

“Well, fuck, that’s a mood killer. I haven’t been able to get into a pair of knickers since.” Avery lamented.

 

“Use some of the fabled Avery charm you’ve always been bragging about instead of cursing the witches, and you might clear up that dry spell.” Lucius smirked as he turned to look at Avery.

 

“Willingly? You know that nothing makes me lose my erection faster. A little crying? Some slapping around? Tears? Now that’s perfection- plus they don’t even know after. It’s the best feeling.” Avery’s eyes were clouded over, his eyes looking off into the hall as he reminisced. His thumb rubbed over his wand as he licked his lips.

“Stop talking about your fucking cock, Avery- help me find this little fucker, or you’ll be the one getting slapped around. Knowing what a sick fuck you are, you’d probably enjoy that too.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, why don’t we just head back to the common room? He’s got to come back sometime, right? Just slip him some of the compulsion potion, and he’ll be back to eating out of your hands. ”

 

“Can’t, curse registers potions too. Fuck, you’re right- lets head back.”

“Hey, what are your thoughts on going after those mudbloods he’s always with? That would certainly flush him out. "

 

“Thinking with your cock again, Avery? Hankering for a roll or two in the Mud?”

“Hey, they certainly are lookers- My uncle knows a guy in France. A quick little visit with your muddy prize, and you can play without any worry of spawning anything.”

“Now that’s certainly an interesting thought- but enough now. I don’t think we need to go that far yet.”

Both men’s bickers faded as they slowly walked away from his hiding place.

 

 

There was a spreading feeling of despair and mind-numbing rage that rolled over his huddled form, his heart dancing erratically as his mind raced to take in everything he had heard. He had been potioned, by Lucius to be more compliant. He had been drugged. He started to hyperventilate as he recalled all the moments, all the moments he used to cherish. Lucius making him a cup of tea, either in the morning or late at night. It was when they talked, when he had taught him, when he had whispered about glory and validation, about how brilliant he was. He could remember now the faces of the other Slytherins as they watched, a demented sort of glee that would wash over their faces for just a moment before they would turn away. If Avery knew, then everyone within the boundaries of Lucius’s social circle knew; it meant that his house knew and joined in on training the new Halfblood. He could certainly take the abuse; he had lived through worse things than petty politics or mediocre poisoning- but they had been keeping an eye on Lily, on Hermione. They had dared to think they could dirty them with their putrid thoughts, their disgusting desires.

 

Rage, hot and boiling, was flowing through his blood. How dare they? How dare they!

For once he was glad he was Tobias Snape’s son, for that despicable man had only done one thing right: he had beaten out the guilt, beaten out the hesitation to strike out, to struggle and fight. He would let them play; he would count their sins and pay it back tenfold. He started to occlude, something that he had been working on learning ever since he found out that mind magic was real. He stood up on shaky legs, brushing off the dirt from his pants as he took a breath and started to walk down the hidden path. He would continue working on his spells, spells he had never shown anyone. Spells designed for enemies.

 

They already feared one Halfblood, why not make it two?

 

November 21st, 1972 Hogwarts

 

It was quiet in the infirmary as Remus made his way over to Madam Pomfrey’s office, his heavy steps echoing throughout the deserted wing. The soft pinkish purple hue of the fading sun illuminated the sky, bathing the hospital ward in a soft, warm orange glow. He was tired and sore; every step felt like pins and needles being stabbed into the soles of his feet. His stomach was nauseous as his heightened senses picked up on the multitude of different scents- he had nearly vomited in class when Mulciber had walked by his desk, the rancid, putrid smell of his body odor hammering into his nostrils like insidious missiles he could not escape. He had avoided the great hall altogether, barely being able to get close enough to pass it to make his way to classes. His head pounded from the rocking migraine he had acquired; all of his senses were on overdrive—his smell, his hearing, and his sight. He had nearly toppled down the stairs when a ray of light hit him right in the face. His only refuge had been his little band of friends- although he could see, smell, and hear them exceptionally well during these times of the month, they were less harsh on his herculean senses. They were present, but calming in a way. Hermione, sweet Hermione, had understood the moment she saw his face and dragged him outside, forcing him into a secluded grove near the lake most of the day. It had helped tremendously. Sirius had postured and growled and tried to get loud when he noticed he wasn’t in the mood, trying to get him to play with him instead, but she had simply stunned him with a cold glare and a flick on his shoulder, and he mellowed out. Very effective, very efficient.

 

He remembered when he had pulled her aside to read the letter he had gotten from his father. She simply smiled knowingly, in that maddening way she always did, and joined him out in the courtyard, rubbing his back in soothing circles as he struggled not to tear the letter to shreds over his frayed nerves. It was a short and brief message, He could hear the clipped but warm way his father spoke- could read his gruff joy in the ink, but the weight of it pressed heavily on his shoulders. Pressed down on his heart in such an immense way that his joy felt crushing instead of freeing. He was going to be allowed to try the new wolfsbane potion- to be a young tester in their preliminary testing. All confidential, of course, and if all tracked well, he would be allowed to continue using the potion supplied by the company for as long as he lived. He had sobbed, fat tears rolling from his face as they blotted the ink words that would change his life. That he hoped could change his life. They had already gotten with Professor Slughorn and Madam Pomfrey with the required formula and dosages. She had cleaned him up that day, fixing his letter to its former pristine condition, curling her hands through his blonde hair, nails lightly scraping as she charmed away his red eyes and stuffy nose, calming his emotions with each soft swish of her wand. She had asked him not to run, to tackle it like any Gryffindor would—head on. And so he did.

 

He was brought out of his musings by the vile smell wafting from Madam Pomfrey’s office. Slughorn was standing next to her desk with a smoking goblet that smelled like the underside of a juvenile troll. His hand outstretched, his expression grim as he tried to keep the liquid as far away from his nose as possible. His eyes tracked the intricate details of the goblet; it was hand-carved gold, with unicorns nestled beneath tall trees, surrounded by flowers and fairies. It was an exceptionally beautiful image, yet it housed the foulest substance he had ever known. They all made faces of disgust as he grabbed the goblet; the shaking had wafted more of the horrific smell around the room, unable to take more of the smell, he downed it all in one gulp. It seared, it bubbled, and it certainly made him gag to the point that concerned both members of the staff, but he held down the growing urge to vomit. They had said it wouldn’t work if he missed a dose. He would drink that devil’s mixture every day of his life if it truly did what they claimed, and in a few hours he would know. It was an odd mixture of terrified hope and crippling anxiety. What if it didn’t work? What if it did? What if he was the first werewolf it failed to help? God, what if he had drunk that every day for seven days all for nothing? Slughorn came to pat him on the back, deftly taking the golden goblet from his weak grasp before leading him out of the infirmary and down to the shack.

 

Their walk was quiet, but he enjoyed it- enjoyed the silence, the solitude of the journey as they navigated through the castle walls. Others had tried to talk to him, to encourage or pity him. All it had done was make his condition painfully, awkwardly worse- he didn’t want pity, didn’t want fear, or sympathy. He just wanted to be, to be Remus, a second-year Gryffindor with a talent for mischief and a strange ability to attract the most absurd friends. This curse carved into this skin, injected into his blood, into his magic, had ruined every aspect of his life; he didn’t want to continue to let it. They neared the end of the tunnel; Slughorn opened the door to the shack, giving him a brief nod as he passed the threshold.

 

As Slughorn locked the door behind him, he began to strip, folding each article of clothing into perfectly square pieces that he meticulously stacked on the small dresser within the room. He paced in the nude, his eyes glowing in the dark, as the moon unveiled itself, like a mythical goddess of old- beautiful, cruel, and unyielding. Bathing his form in luminescent rays of white. His green eyes turned gold, his bones began to lengthen, began to break and stretch as his form twisted-as his skin tore and regrew. Shards of hair forced themselves through the pores of his skin as it erupted all over his body. He was trembling, screaming- howling in agony as Mother Magic worked her cruel curse throughout his bestial form. He wanted to claw at his skin, wanted to bite through his growing muscles, to tear and shred this forced form, but he knew, he knew now that it would only hurt him more, hurt him longer than one night.He didn’t want to bear any more scars. He had bitten through his tongue as his jaw clenched down, teeth cracking under the force as his jaw broke and reformed. He prayed- he hoped he would pass out like he always did- it was the weakness within him, the desperate little boy who only wanted the torture to end. The young man, the older boy who had learned, who had grown to face his demons, pleaded, pleaded for his mind to remain. For the potion to work.

 

It felt like an eternity- his body quivering as he struggled to get his body to move. He had never controlled the wolf’s form, always set aside in his mind like a bystander at the beginning of the change, and then blackness until he awoke at dawn, harmed and confused. His heart was pounding, joy spreading through his veins as he realized that the potion was working; it was him. He was still here. There was no darkness, no mindless rage, or foreign creature that took over. As he stood on four legs, he marveled at the feel of this new form, of the power and rage that simmered just underneath his conscious thought. He tried to walk forward, his legs awkward as he pitched forward, tumbling into the other future like a newborn babe. His golden eyes widening in shock at the damage. It took him a few more tries before he got it; he could move without flailing around or crushing any more of the dilapidated furniture littered about the shack. He wanted to laugh; he did laugh- it came out as breathy huffs from his elongated snout. He walked over to the corner of the room, where he curled up in a ball and closed his eyes. Tears leaked down his face, drenching his fur and the floor below him.

 

As he tried to sleep, he felt something nudging on the edges of his subconsciousness. It was familiar, yet foreign. Something he had always lived with but was now more pronounced. His mind supplying the image of gold eyes, of blondish-brown fur, and sharp canines. It shocked him, enough that he scrambled up from his lying position, yelping out in surprise. Was this his wolf? The entity brushed against his mind; he could hear it now, a low, gravelly voice speaking to him.

“Yes”

This had never happened before; he had always felt something, knew something lingered in the dark spaces of his mind- growing stronger under the phases of the moon- but never had it spoken to him.

 

“How- is it because I am in control now?”

“Yes, must find.”

He could feel it- the other form’s rage, its anxiety, and its terror. It was demanding something.

“What, what must we find?”

“Pack.”

“Pack?”

 

“Must find them, must bring them, lonely.”

“Lonely?” he questioned.

 

“Need pack”

The entity banged against the edges of his subconscious, tearing, clawing, biting to take control. It was howling now, deep melancholy howls as it raked its sharp nails through his mind. He tried to calm it, but it only repeated over and over.

 

“Lonely.”

 

November 23rd, 1972 Lestrange Manor

 

The manor was a daunting display of legacy, of magical supremacy- its rolling hills and towering peaks that stretched for miles. It sat atop one of the most prominent leylines in Britain, one almost equal to the strength and size of Hogwarts. Black stone, black marble floors, large vaulted ceilings that housed candelabras of human bone- of diamonds, of gold, and skeletons of mythical creatures subdued by ancestors. The magic in the air was weighted, intoxicating in its purity and strength. It was not as large as some Black or Malfoy manors, but it held history- held prominence. Lord Voldemort sat bare-chested on the manor’s opulent floors- all around him were screaming, dirty, filthy Muggles and Muggle lovers rolling in agony as his men filled their darkest desires. The scraps, the prey that had been roughed up just enough that they clung to death’s doors, were passed off to the Halfbloods, to the creatures in his employ that waited at the edges of the manors forests. To the giants that craved human flesh. To the dementors that craved souls, the hags, the ghouls, the vampires that had rallied around his cause. He sat, bathed in the blood of muggles, of purebloods, of halfbloods- of anyone who dared not to bow down to his power- those who dared to speak out against his actions. He watched- he waited, and he burned. He had always desired more, growing up an orphan.Always hungry, always itching to take. Always hating and despising the wealthy purebloods that had tortured him in his youth- but no more. Now they danced to his whims, bowed at his feet, gave him their wives, their gallons, their souls. It was an intoxicating feeling- this desperate, starving hunger to claim, to dominate. It had only grown as he aged, only forged stronger as he watched the bombs drop over Britain. So he had conquered death, taken what he felt he was owed in pounds of flesh and blood.

 

Yet some still dared to despise him instead, dared to speak his Muggle name, to challenge his authority. His eyes glazed red as he slowly stood, bloodied hands roving over his face, smearing the tacky remains over his chiseled features. He could feel the soft brush of arms as they wrapped around his waist, nimble fingers brushing against his exposed chest as black nails trailed welts upon his skin. He hissed in delight.

 

“My Lord, allow me to please you; allow me to serve you.”

“Bella.”

She purred hearing her name from his lips, her form twisting around his back to drop to her knees in supplication in front of him. Her hands, those vicious tools of violence, hovered above his thighs, begging, pleading to touch him once more. He stared into her black eyes, pupils gone as she hungrily took in his exposed body- a treat for all who worshiped him.

 

“You want to serve me?”

“Yes, please, my lord.” He could see her nipples pebbling beneath her black dress- he could smell her excitement, her magic radiating bloodlust.

“Then scream, scream loudly until I’m satisfied.”

He turned his wand on her flushed face and whispered out the curse.

 

“Crucio”

Oh what a loyal servant!, she screamed and writhed on the floor, but he could see it, could feel her ecstasy through the mark. She relished the pain, the torture under his hand. His eyes dilated as he watched her body thrash, pleasure coursing through his veins as he watched what was considered the epitome of perfection. A pureblooded princess, thrashing on the floor like a deranged whore. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

 

What a beautiful Thanksgiving.

Notes:

No child abuse is ever condoned, but I tried to portray the madness of a mother cultivated by the inhumanity of her upbringing. All humans are flawed- but the path to hell is paved with good intentions.

Chapter 21: The Morning After

Summary:

Ensuring your garden is protected from beasts is a top priority for a dedicated gardener.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I Don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

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“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them. Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it.”― Rabindranath Tagore

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December 17th, 1972 Hogwarts

 

The cold had never affected her so, never seeped so deeply into her bones, so deeply into her soul. The wind was punishing as it howled outside the castle walls, heavy flurries of snow raining down on the magical school, loud and oppressive in its weight, such a contrast to the beautiful and light nature snow presented. Even with magic, there were times when it too bowed to the whims of nature, when it failed to hold. Heating charms blasted through the halls, whispered on the lips of every capable witch and wizard- she had finally taught a few others her signature bluebell flames to help. Now there were little pockets of hazy blue light that appeared all over the castle. A testament to the need, the desperate pursuit of warmth. She wondered, had there ever been a witch or wizard that had simply frozen to death? Petrified not by magic or magical creatures, but simply because they too were human? Would it be the same? Would it feel the same? Her thoughts turning dark as she wandered the halls of the castle, steadily making her way to Dumbledore’s office- this time with her head of house in tow. Professor Sprout, the lovely woman, was just as silent and pensive as she was. Every once in a while she would see her peek at her, study her, and contemplate how in the world one of her badgers had flushed out a snake of this magnitude. Although these things required secrecy, there was a level of involvement that would have to happen, a level of information that would have to be shared, but it still rankled her. The fewer who knew, the better her veil would hold.

 

It took a while to reach Dumbledore’s office- As they ascended the stairs, she could hear a cornucopia of voices, all trying to speak over each other, all trying to question the validity of why they were here. The validity of her claim that a giant mythical basilisk lived beneath the castle, a leftover remnant of a blood purist founder. Professor Sprout held onto her shoulder tightly as they entered the room. Dumbledore was standing near his window, watching the storm- Moody was in a heated debate with Charlus Potter, clearly calling into question her credibility. Professor Kettleburn, worn and haggard as he was, sat limply in the chair in front of the desk, a wiggling bag situated in his lap- she guessed it was the roosters they would need. Professor McGonagall just watched incredulously from her spot in the corner. Gideon and Fabian Prewett whispered in the opposite corner; the familiar red hair was jarring. They had just graduated last year, entering into the Auror program shortly after- Dumbledore must have had them join his order as soon as their grades were in their hands. Professor Sprout cleared her throat, gaining the attention of the room as she slowly pushed her forward- offering her up to the curious faces in the room. Dumbledore turned around slowly before making his way over, his eyes twinkling, his body soft- a show for his order members.

 

“My dear, welcome, I’ve collected a group that should be highly capable of taking care of our little problem. "

Moody scoffed, shaking his head.

“It’s a bloody basilisk, not a little problem at all, Albus.”

 

“Well, other than it being a class XXXXX beast and being in the castle with vulnerable children- why exactly the need for secrecy here, Dumbledore?” Charlus questioned his voice, tinged with a mild disgust and heavily riddled with sarcasm. He was horrified to learn that his nephew was sharing space with a creature that could kill him instantly and no one had known. This too was something the others were interested in but hadn’t had the courage to ask.

 

“Yeah, why just us? We could have called in the Creatures division from the ICW or even the ministries division, although they’re arguably worse- There are still children in the castle; why not do this tomorrow?” Fabian grunted. Before Dumbledore could speak, she jumped in to inform the confused group. Clearing her throat just like Professor Sprout had done earlier.

 

“Before any of you can learn the details, I’ll be demanding a vow of secrecy from each individual in this room.” Hermione commanded; she stood tall, squaring her shoulders as she braced herself.

 

“Oh, demanding, eh? Who’s this little badger to demand anything?” Gideon playfully snarked.

 

When the question was met with silence, met with a cold glare and pensive face, the temperature in the room dropped- matching the harsh winter raging outside the castle walls.

 

“Professor, the vow, now please.” She turned her glowing gold eyes on Dumbledore- he simply raised his eyebrows in challenge before surrendering to her. Their faces were shocked as they viewed Hermione’s expression and the interactions between her and Dumbledore- every person in the room was an Order member, and they were used to deferring to him. Not used to seeing a 12-year old girl boss the Grand Wizard around. Charlus was more suspicious than the others as he scanned her- the warmth he had shown her at the Potter manor now gone or at least crushed under a healthy dose of skepticism.

 

“Dumbledore, really? A vow?” Charlus dug once more.

“Yes, it’s a necessity in this case, not just for everyone here but for the security of the Order.”

Gasps rang around the room; the seriousness of the situation seemed to weigh heavily on the participants.

 

“Well… If that’s the case, I’ll perform this vow. Who is it going to be tied to? Who’s the Bonder?”

 

“You’ll be making a vow with me.” Hermione answered, stepping forward to stand in front of him. Hand outstretched and firm as he moved to grasp her forearm.

 

“It is good to see you again, Miss Evans. Shadowy vows in the headmaster’s office before the beginning of the holiday break—well, this wasn’t where I expected to meet you once more.”

He tried to smile, but it was tight, never reaching his eyes. She decided to stay quiet; there were enough things they would need to speak about once this was done. Moody stepped forward, his wand flicking as the first silver strands of the vow appeared, ready to wrap around their wrists. She looked to Charlus, checking for a sign that he was ready; he stared at her for a moment longer before nodding.

 

“Do you, Charlus Potter, vow to never disclose, either verbally, in writing, or via mind magic, those who are involved in this matter and the information provided to you or any of the knowledge obtained while participating in this matter before or after this vow—without the expressed permission of Hermione Evans?”

 

“I vow.’ Silver turned to gold as the vows band wrapped around their wrists.

 

“Do you, Charlus Potter, vow never to intentionally try to hint, coerce, or magically persuade Hermione Evans or any other individuals involved into revealing the information or the knowledge of tonight, the days leading up to it, or after it to outside sources without the expressed permission of Hermione Evans?”

 

“I vow.” He was frowning as he thought about the implications of the vow he had agreed to.

 

The final gold band wrapped tightly around their wrists, slowly fading into their skin. One by one she extracted the vow from every person except Dumbledore and Moody- both had been forced into a vow of secrecy when she first told them of the threat. Her head of house was pale as she rubbed her wrist; the soreness of the vow had not yet faded. She moved around the group, moved around Dumbledore’s desk, and stood in front of his chair, looking out to the group- they all had a conjured chair should they wish to sit, courtesy of Moody. They had planned extensively for this. She sighed deeply before digging her arm down into the bag at her side, her entire arm swallowed up as she reached for the items she needed- Moody and Charlus’s eyebrows raised to their hairlines. They would be the most familiar with the undetectable extension charm she had placed on her bag. She suspected Gideon and Fabian knew as well- their twin smirks, well, that gave her an inkling. Those four men all worked in the Ministry- specifically for the Auror Department. It was the reason why she worded her vow the way she had. Should anything go awry with Dumbledore, she didn’t want to get arrested for illegal charms nor for the blood magic she was about to perform. She pulled out her map and a small, unadorned wooden box. Even Dumbledore was curious now. She had not yet revealed what she had been working on but had let him know- that once she was ready, they could take care of the creature. That they would need to use top-order members for the information that would be shared.

 

“There once was a lonely orphan boy named Tom Riddle. He grew twisted and angry at the world he was born into- terrified at every turn that he too would die. Die like his mother did, die like the other children in the orphanage, like the other Britons under the hellish shelling of London, under Hitler’s sieges. But he learned he was a wizard, and so he turned to magic. Magic to bend the world to fit him, magic to circumvent the death that had terrified him his whole life. Horcruxes.” Her voice was low, tilting in an otherworldly cadence as she unveiled the Dark Lord’s sins.

 

“No… Merlin…no,” Charlus whispered, his face pasty as he sank into a conjured chair. He was the only one who knew what that word meant outside of Dumbledore. The room was silent, cold, and tight as the other occupants waited, confused at why she was telling them a story.

 

“Magic most foul, most dark, the most heinous- So unspeakable that the ritual itself intentionally fractures and tears out a part of the soul. This misguided young boy, unable to understand the inhumanity of his actions because he himself was raised inhumanely- chased immortality. Splitting his soul five ways.”

 

She slowly took out her map, unraveling the parchment to lay it flat on the headmaster’s desk; it was blank. She conjured a needle, poking her hand and allowing her blood to drop onto the parchment; dark red spread across the page, absorbing slowly to reveal the bright, pulsating red dots. Disgust and horror were painted across the faces in the room as they realized what they were looking at. She nonverbally magicked the map’s table showing the listed location of the Horcruxes- All but one were the same. Now, instead of the Room of Requirement, where the diadem used to rest, the map had updated.

 

Diadem: Headmaster Dumbledore’s Office, on a desk within the Lament Box

 

The twins jumped up, Moody brandishing his wand as he moved to get closer to the box, to the map; even Dumbledore had lost the facade of twinkling grandfather as he observed the spots upon the map, his eyes cold and calculating. Charlus reached to touch the map, his hand shaking as he neared it; Hermione quickly pushed his hand away, shaking her head as she met his bewildered eyes.

 

“It is charmed; it is hexed and blood-warded to me alone. Due to the gravity of the magic used to create this, I have taken precautions to ensure it doesn’t fall into anyone’s hands but my own. Neither the physical map nor the knowledge of its creation.”

 

They all looked at her as if she was a chimera they’d found. She gave them grace; the magical world was filled with surprise, with the unknown, but even her situation was a bit unbelievable.

“Merlin- So he has split his soul not once, but five times? And you were able to find a piece? It’s here, in the school- in the box?” McGonagall probed.

 

“Yes, it was in this school to begin with. I suspect you’ll have no trouble with the defense position anymore, professor- His Horcrux was the fuel, the anchoring point for the curse he placed.”

 

“How? How do you know this?” Moody stuttered in disbelief.

 

“I have been blessed with a small portion of sight- It is tied to large emotional and magical areas. I can see the trauma left behind- the impact of it on the future if it is not healed. And this, the foulest form of magic, permeated through this castle and out into the magical world. It was something that triggered my sight as soon as I stepped within Hogwarts Halls. I was able to see that he had not done this once but five times-dark masses that corrupt all those around them. If we do not stop him, do not destroy his Horcruxes, it will lead to the ruin of Magical Britain.”

 

She had pondered on how to explain her situation outside the first conversation she had with Dumbledore- What limitations her knowledge would have as the future unfolded differently. She was glad that divination, although documented, allowed for so much flexibility on how magical seers manifested-on how their gifts could work. So she would use the nuance, the limited capacity of her supposed “gift,” to help temper any zealots that might come looking. Especially the Dark Lord.

 

“Before I show you, who all is capable of occlumency? Horcruxes, while not sentient, do have limited abilities like compulsion; they need a host to feed magic from in order to manifest a body for the soul they house- or to simply possess the magical person they’re with. It’s a form of self preservation- a phantom desire left over from his main soul. ”

 

The group leaned back; those who were confident with their occlumency arranged themselves closer to the desk, and those less confident in their ability, like Professor Sprout and Kettleburn, moved back closer to the door. She once again nonverbally magicked the box open; the coldness in the room turned deathly as smoky black tendrils escaped from the box- a heavy dark pressure pressed upon the minds of those in the room. Each hearing whispers, sinful caresses, and tempting suggestions.

 

It wouldn’t hurt to touch it, would it? Think of how much we could accomplish together, how much smarter they would be if they wore it? Just pick it up, just for a little while- you’re strong enough- smart enough to be safe. Powerful enough to tame it.

 

They all gazed upon the untouched but poisoned form of Rowena Ravenclaw’s lost diadem. She could see some of them moving to touch it- occlumency failing them the longer they stayed in its presence. She quickly shut the box, locking it once more. Her expression was grim as she calculated how long it took- only 5 minutes before some of the most hardened witches and wizards fell prey to the Horcruxes compulsions. How did they last so long on the hunt? How were they able to wear it for so long as well? She would have to think on that at a later time.

 

“The reason you are all here, all vowed to secrecy, is because of this: that basilisk only responds to the Heir of Slytherin- Tom Riddle. His foul magic can only be defeated in two ways: fiendfyre or basilisk venom. By removing this creature, we will be able to strike against the Dark Lord tenfold. "

 

She finally pulled her wand, tapping the map in a complicated pattern. This time the six dots faded, revealing thousands of dots spanning across the map. More silence, but this time the twins and even Moody sat in their conjured chairs. McGonagall stood, pale, with a hand covering her mouth. Sprout and Kettleburn looked horrified.

 

“To impress upon you the severity of our fight- the magnitude of why this is so crucial, why the vows are needed although they irritated some of you- this part of the map shows every piece of his magical signature- every Death Eater mark that his wand has created. These are the most loyal of his subjects- this doesn’t even show those who were deemed unworthy enough to mark but still loyal to his cause. Do you understand it now?” More silence, but they nodded this time at least.

 

Dumbledore stepped around his desk, coming to stand at her side as he leaned over the map, trying to sear it into his memory- he was careful not to touch it, but she could see the desire, the burning curiosity to learn how it worked. She didn’t know if he knew what he was doing, but he had begun to rub his wand- the death stick. The hallow. Her eyes narrowed on the movement.

 

“This map will remain with me, warded, and should I meet an unfortunate fate, it will no longer exist in this world- should my blood be administered to it by a hand that is not mine, or if my hand has been forced, this map will no longer exist. I have used the Fidelius Charm to be the only secret keeper to the documents and memories of its creation. So it cannot be forced from my mind.”

 

As she spoke, she directed her eyes to the other members in the group, but her speech was for Dumbledore. He had a habit of confiscating things he thought would be necessary for the greater good. He was an intelligent wizard- one of the most brilliant. She was sure with enough time and effort he might be able to create something similar, but she would be damned before she handed over the knowledge or the map. She blushed a bit before continuing.

“As for why this couldn’t be done tomorrow night- well my parents didn’t give me permission to stay an extra day.”

 

That got a chuckle out of Charlus and the twins. Even a small smirk from McGonagall, something that was a rare treat. Moody was the one to break the silence, standing up and gruffly brushing off his robes.

 

“Aye, well, let’s get this started - Lass you’ll have to lead the way.”

 

She slowly packed up the map and the box before leading the group down to the second-floor bathroom. Tears welled in her eyes as she walked past the first stall- her heart was still bruised from the ritual, from Myrtle’s pleas before standing in front of a familiar sink. She rubbed her eyes, hoping that they weren’t paying attention at the moment. The small snake carved into the porcelain sink was the only indication that everything was the same.

 

“Hey- wasn’t there a ghost in this bathroom? I remember all the girls complaining about it.” Fabian questioned.

“She went home.” Hermione couldn’t help but answer.

 

“Oh, well, it looks like Salazar was a bit of a perv. Putting his snake chamber in the girls bathroom, eh?” Gideon joked.

There were multiple sighs and a slight grunt from Gideon when Moody elbowed him in the ribs. Fabian did high-five him once he thought Moody was no longer paying attention.

She leaned forward and whispered the Parseltongue she had been practicing.

 

“ayaeeh aaah ssss seyythaa”

 

There was a whirling grinding noise, the same as she remembered, as the sinks slowly reconfigured.

 

“I thought this was a bit of a joke, but- Bloody Hell. It’s real.”

“Language, Mr. Potter- there is still a child present.” McGonagall chided.

 

“My apologies, although I’m warning you now I might curse later- you know, basilisk and all.” He goaded a smile on his lips as he took in McGonagall’s annoyed expression.

 

Hermione started pulling out the brooms she had taken from the quidditch supplies, handing them out to everyone. Professor Sprout gave her a shocked look as she shrugged and got her broom in position- everyone knew she hated flying.

 

“It’s a bit of a drop and then a long walk until we get to the chamber’s second entrance. I’d suggest charming your shoes- its pretty muddy down there.”

 

Hermione directed before pulling her wand and charming her shoes. She grimaced, stepping over her broom before heading down into the pipes. She held it together better than the last time she was there; her body, though, remembered even after she had been reborn- there was a slight quivering of her hands. Her heart started to stutter in her chest as they got closer to the door. It was dead the last time she came; this time- this time it would be fresh, hopefully smaller than when Harry faced it. It took nearly ten minutes before the group reached the second chamber’s entrance; she admired the stonework, the same looks of appreciation on the faces of most of the group. There was a twisted beauty, a majestic reverence that came over her- this was a piece of history. No matter how heinous the situation around its existence was, this was something not even historians had gotten to see. She stepped forward once again to utter the phrase.

 

“ayaeeh aaah ssss seyythaa”

 

She knew from the stories Harry shared with her on the run that the basilisk was slumbering in the face in the back of the chamber- it would only leave it once called. He has even shared the Parseltongue Diary Tom had used. She had pulled the memory and studied it in Dumbledore’s Pensieve for weeks. The grand door opened to reveal the chamber.

 

It was just as damp and dark as it was before, large stone snake heads emerging from the surrounding water to act as reptilian sentries along the long stone path. It led to a wide-open chamber in the back, a towering stone wall carved with the face of Salazar Slytherin himself.

 

“Kettleburn- the roosters. Gideon, Fabian, and Potter, you’re with me. If everything we have read is correct, then we won’t have to do much- but if not… I’ll need those with good instincts.” Moody grunted as he took the silenced, wiggling bag from the bewildered man.

 

“Dumbledore, McGonagall, and the rest are the last line of defense- Again we shouldn’t need it, but Merlin forbid this thing gets past us.” Moody continued. Everyone nodded and got into position.

 

“Now lass, do what you need to, but close this door once we are inside- got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

 

The men walked into the chamber, and as they got halfway down and positioned themselves, they let go of the roosters. She used a sonorous charm to amplify her voice. Closing her eyes, she called the beast.

 

“ayaeeh aaah ssss seyythaa haa seyythaa ssaah hass ayaeeh ssssehhh ssss ssseya ayaeeh ssssehhh ssss”

 

There was a loud rumbling as the mouth of Salazar opened, and a large hissing growl echoed from the darkness.

 

“Hass hathehh ayaeeh ssssaytha ssss”

 

She clenched her hands together as she closed the chamber doors. Professor Sprout came up behind her, hands landing on her tense shoulders as she leaned in and promised that everything would be okay. She leaned into her touch- she knew that it was a platitude, but it helped calm her nerves all the same.

 

There was muffled yelling- loud rumbling of hexes and curses striking against something—before the deafening crow of several roosters. There was a high-pitched screaming that rent the air; Hermione rushed to cover her ears. A loud, shuddering thud, and then silence. It took a moment before there was a rhythmic knocking on the chamber door- it was the code Moody had come up with signaling all was clear.

 

“ayaeeh aaah ssss seyythaa”

 

The door opened to reveal a very rumpled and clammy Moody.

 

“Good job, lass. The beast is down- gave us a bit of a fight before we could get the blasted birds to crow, but once they did, it went down instantly.”

 

“And the rest, Alastor?” Dumbledore inquired.

 

“All good, no one is hurt or petrified.”

 

“My Roosters??” Kettleburn rushed forward to ask.

“Eh, really? Yeah, they’re all good. One tipped off the platform into the water- but we pulled him out. Just a bit soggy.”

Kettleburn seemed to melt in relief as he pushed past Moody into the chamber to collect his roosters. She shared a confused look with Moody before they all walked into the chamber together.

 

It was massive and grotesque, and God, did it smell! Harry had never mentioned how much it smelled. By the time she and Ron had made it back into the chamber, most of the flesh was gone, as well as most of the smell. She shuffled forward, slightly nauseated, as she passed out dragonhide gloves. Her eyes focused on the stone face of Salazar Slytherin.

 

She was one step closer to killing Voldemort.

 

December 18th, 1972 Hogwarts

 

Like a corpse rising from its sacred gravesite, Hermione struggled and clawed her way out of bed. Grunting, groaning, and moaning in pain as she rubbed the kink in her neck. Her hair was wild and tangled as she tried to run her hands through the near-sentient bush. She was exhausted. The planning, the reveal, and the collection of the fangs-even the planning after it had been killed—went on late into the night. Her head of house was the only one who noticed she had started to doze off before ending the meeting. It had been freezing in her dorm once she arrived; she had to conjure several bluebell flames and set them all about the room to get it somewhat comfortable before she passed out as soon as her head hit her pillow. She rushed to pack and dress as the clock ticked. They would be leaving on winter break today. Thankfully the raging snowstorm had settled. It was beautiful, everything covered in a thick layer of soft white snow. Once again Amy and Beth were waiting on her, their trunks packed as they laughed and gossiped near the door. When she was finally done, they welcomed her with open arms, linking together as they made their way down to the express.

 

“Another late-night extracurricular?” Amy giggled as she smoothed an especially wild curl Hermione had missed.

“Ugh, yes, I almost regret asking for more hands-on help with some of the harder subjects.”

“You? harder subjects? Darling, are they making you wrangle dragons or some other mythical beast? You’re so brilliant I shudder to think what you might consider a ‘harder subject,” Beth exclaimed.

Hermione nearly choked- she wasn’t too far off.

 

“Hey! Everyone is bad at something; it just so happens I’m not so great at Herbology. Or getting very creative with potions.”

“Or flying.” Amy interjected while kicking a stone off their path.

 

“Yes, or flying. See, Amy gets it.”

 

“Oh, just everything else, hmmm?” Beth wiggled her eyebrows.

 

Hermione scoffed and smirked before leaning into her

“Well, yes, just everything else. Can’t be too humble, or you’ll just think I’m fishing for compliments.”

“Oh, like you aren’t now?” Amy giggled.

 

Blinding, frigid cold slammed into the girls; loud, ear-piercing shrieks boomed from their lips as the flurry of snowballs pelted them. Boisterous laughter from the mound across from them gave away their attackers positions. Hermione shivered as she rushed to wipe the snow off her face, sputtering in rage as she locked in on the innocent faces of her boys. Oh, they would rue the day they messed with her. Mischievous smirks turned into horrified pleading as she pulled her wand. In a second she had hundreds of perfectly formed snowballs launching at the scrambling Gyffindors- her housemates rushing to position themselves behind trees while they made their own ammunition. It was an exhilarating battle; there were many casualties (unsuspecting passerbys) that turned into ardent allies as they besieged the Gryffindor rogues. She was even able to capture and turn one of their most accurate throwers- although it was an unbalanced trade. Three new comrades for their one traitor- Sirius. He got laughs out of all of them when he proudly declared his new allegiance to the groups. It was all for naught, as his flamboyant declaration made him undesirable number 1, and he was pelted to the point that put him on perpetual defense.

 

By the time they finished, they had nearly missed the train with seconds to spare. Hermione laughed as she charmed away the slush and cold. She was still tired, but it felt much better than before. They all moved into a compartment- Amy sat next to James, Beth next to Remus, and Sirius- as always, rested himself in her lap as she pulled a book from her bag.

“Pay up, Beth! “Amy held her hand out eagerly, moving around an amused James.

Grumbling, Beth pulled out a gallon from her pocket and handed it over to Amy.

 

“Oh, lost a bet?” Remus asked curiously; he was smiling as he started to relax into the seats- eyes starting to get heavy. The adrenaline was slowly leaving, and as the warmth of the compartment comforted their weary bodies, the strong desire for a nap grew.

 

“Ugh, yes, one I should have known better- but Beth here bet me it would take less than 15 minutes before Hermione’s shadow appeared.” She giggled as she eyed Sirius’s tiny grin. Hermione just rolled her eyes as she turned a page in her book.

 

“Rookie mistake! You should have known better- Even I would’ve told you that!” James scolded as he just pointed to Sirius as if to say, “Really?”

 

“Hey now, for a split of the profits, I’ll even tell you when I’m coming so we can time it right.” Sirius joked. They laughed when Hermione pinched his arm and scolded him for racketeering. Eventually Remus fell asleep, Beth struggling as she tried to keep him upright; one good jostle of the train and he had nearly face-planted right off the seat. James and Amy were in a heated debate on which quidditch team actually had a chance at winning the house cup this year- Hermione’s odds were on Ravenclaw, but she didn’t discount Gryffindor yet. Sirius would chime in with outrageous claims or improbable techniques that just seemed to rile up the other two. As the train continued to make its way, Sirius eventually fell asleep as she ran her fingers through his hair. It was becoming a ritual for them both. Her eyes began to droop as the words on her pages started to blend. The warmth of his body radiated from him, slowly invading hers, lulling her into sleep. Her magic reached for his, coiling tight in contentment as she slumbered. It was the best sleep she had had in weeks.

Chapter 22: Higher Ground

Summary:

Updating and growing your garden takes dedication, observation and a skilled hand

Notes:

Disclaimer: I dont own anything, this is my first fanfic

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“We can only see a short distance ahead, but we can see plenty there that needs to be done.”

― Alan Turing

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December 21st, 1972, Prince Estate

 

The sun was waning as it dipped into the horizon, the night air crisp and chilly as small snow flurries danced in the breeze. It was a small reprieve from the heavy snowstorms that had ravaged the British Isles. Although Mother Nature blanketed everything around her in frigid snow, Hermione stood barefoot upon lush green grass; in front of her was an ornate altar, adorned with bountiful gifts of herbs, of ale, and of incense. Last year she had performed this ritual alone, desperate to soothe her turbulent magic; however, this year she wanted to share the beauty of that magic with her family. It did not take much to convince the princes to perform a Yule ritual- they had intended to perform one already. She could feel it in her core; the ambient magic was rich here, overflowing and tantalizing as she reached out to connect with it.

 

She was garbed in another flowing green dress that brushed against her feet; this one, however, was provided by the Princes. It was a breathtaking gown with sparkling white constellations charmed into the gossamer silk; underneath was a form-fitting silk shift that barely reached her knees. It had long, sheer sleeves and an off-the-shoulder neckline; her shoulders and neck, while unadorned, had been brushed with scented oils. Lily was wearing the same dress as her; the only difference was the arrangement of the constellations- she had quickly chosen this gown, for Canis Major was situated over the heart. She had blushed and sputtered when she tried to explain why this had to be the dress she wore. Thankfully, Lily was so enamored with the other magical gown that she had no complaints. Her curls were woven into the wreath of holly and mistletoe- Clove and rosemary bundles were added this year. With the increased attacks, they would be pleading for more protection. Lily would be helping her this year with the ritual- she had reached out, trying to connect more with her sister. She knew that something like this, something so filled with magic and beauty, would help bind them closer. She could already feel the harmony in their magic, the contentment and joy from the land. Behind them sat around decadent tables filled with meats, wines, and untold delights were her parents and the Princes- all dressed in elegant finery of green, white, and silver.

 

As the sun finally descended fully past the horizon and the moon began to rise, her magic pulsated, her eyes dilating as the ambient magic intensified. She was leading the ritual as she nonverbally lit the incense situated around the altar, her form kneeling in front as she beckoned Lily over. Once she had her kneeling in front of the altar as well, she lit the Yule log- Lily handed her a smaller wreath made from the same herbs and ingredients as the one they wore. She stared into her emerald green eyes, noticing she too had dilated pupils, the magic of the land connecting with her as well. Hermione was the first to levitate her wreath, her voice low as she chanted the first words of the ritual.

 

“I, Hermione Evans of the House of Evans, welcomed by the lord of this magical land, have come to celebrate with Mother Magic in the joyous rebirth of the sun. I come adorned in symbols for protection, eternal life, enduring life, and its continuation- in your colors for energy renewal and returning light—and offer you the same. Let this protect us, cleanse us, and renew us as we toast to good health, to the strength of our magic, to the steadiness of our dedication. To the might of our defenses.

því at ek lifi at þjóna þér”

 

She dropped her wreath into the flames; the fire burned brighter. Lily then repeated the chant before dropping her wreath into the fire as well.

 

“I, Lily Evans of the House of Evans, welcomed by the lord of this magical land, have come to celebrate with Mother Magic in the joyous rebirth of the sun. I come adorned in symbols for protection, eternal life, enduring life, and its continuation- in your colors for energy renewal and returning light—and offer you the same. Let this protect us, cleanse us, and renew us as we toast to good health, to the strength of our magic, to the steadiness of our dedication. To the might of our defenses.

 

því at ek lifi at þjóna þér”

 

The flames shot higher, fueled by the magic collecting and the offerings they had provided. Hermione took one of the golden goblets filled with Yule ale that was set to the side and placed it in front of both her and Lily. She tightly entwined their hands as she prayed over the cup.

 

“This ale is consecrated to Mother Magic, to the Evans ancestors, to the Princes ancestors who watch over our steps. May this please her and imbue her might in all it touches.”

 

Their hands began to glow, a soft shimmering silver, and a light breeze invaded the ritual space. She used one hand to pick up the goblet before gently tugging on Lily’s hand as she pulled them both to stand. She led her hand in hand as she delicately spilled the ale upon the ground as they circled the altar. The fairy lights and candles lit around the space flickered as they returned to the front of the altar; she pulled Lily down to kneel once more.

Taking one of the baskets that was set aside, she handed it to Lily before taking her own.

They both offered the baskets filled with fruits, breads, meat, and ale on the small ledge of the altar.

 

“This feast offered by both families is consecrated to Mother Magic, to our ancestors who watch over our steps—thank you for your bounty.”

 

The second gold goblet filled with ale was held up as she toasted. She could hear the others repeating her toast. She took a sip of the ale before handing it to Lily. Lily took a sip and then passed it back.

 

“Hail Mother Magic for protection, for success, and for victory in the year to come. We ask you.”

 

More chanting from the table behind her as they all sipped.

 

“Hail Mother Magic for safety, joy, and bounty in the year to come, We ask you.”

 

Again.

 

“Hail Mother Magic, for friendship and peace in the year to come, We ask you.”

 

Again.

 

“Hail to our ancestors and departed friends who are remembered on this night. Stay with us, guide us in the year to come, We ask you.”

 

Again.

 

“Mother Magic, ancestors of our blood and spirit, beloved dead who watch our steps- thank you for all you have done for us this past year. Pour out your blessings in the new year as we pour out offerings to you. Hail!”

 

She gulped down half the cup before offering the last to Lily. The fire shot high into the night sky, warming the ritual space. The magic was thickening; she could feel it, that intensity, the searing intoxication seeping into her core, into her vessels. The constellations upon their clothes lit, sparking and shining as the ritual ended. She felt drunk as she pulled Lily up, twirling her around as they both laughed, both charged with the magic of the land. Soft music started to play as she heard the laughs and cheers from her family and friends. She closed her eyes as she danced; soon they were joined by Severus, then the princes, then her family as they all danced in merriment into the night. Her parents- her sister might not have magic, but they too could feel the heavy presence, the jubilation, and the rush of the ritual. As the night wound down, Lily pulled her to the side, eyes filled with tears as she hugged her tightly, whispering into her curls over and over- Thank you.

 

As she finally separated, exhausted and drifting off to sleep in her seat at the table, her mind pictured Sirius, sitting in his room alone as he wrote in their journal, snow falling outside the window of his room. She prayed, prayed for his safety, his joy, his health- prayed that Mother Magic spared him any more cruelty- She could feel a light caress against her face, a soft brush running through her curls as a familiar airy voice whispered in tune with the ambient music- So mote it be.

 

December 27th, 1972 Evans Home

 

The sun was finally out, peeking through the clouded sky as its soft rays soaked into the land. Hermione was sitting outside, nestled on the curb, as she watched her father work on their car- the winter had been rough on the automobile; light leaks and rubber breaks were what her father grunted and cursed over as he hung his body over half of the engine compartment. Braided into her hair was a red carnation and a white sprig of cloves she had received along with the gifts Sirius had sent for Boxing Day. She had not yet added them to the growing bouquet in her room; she had felt the need to feel closer to him today, and so she wore his gift in her hair- the soft scent helped calm her. Even the priceless first edition of “Anderson’s Runic Ruminations” he had sent was situated delicately in her lap as she absorbed page after page. She nearly passed out when she saw it, sending him a scathing note about not spending so much money on her; his only reply was that she was worth every gallon. He even added that if she complained more, he would truly give her even more outrageously expensive gifts. Something to help desensitize her, and obviously to ensure he was her favorite. She had blushed so deeply that she had concerned her mother, who thought she might be coming down with something. She didn’t know what to say to him, other than thanking him profusely and begging him to have some restraint in the future. She felt bad about her gift, hoping it was enough- she had sent him photos from their summer at the Potters; she had made duplicates of the ones Mrs. Potter sent her, and a collection of magazines on topics he had mentioned he was interested in. Along with a charmed stereobelt, it used to be the libraries, but once it broke, she asked to have it. A brand new one was definitely out of her budget. It took some time for her to fix and charm it enough to work around magic, but once it did, she gifted it to him along with some cassettes of music he might be interested in. She turned and looked at her house and then the street that they lived on, her eyes narrowing as she examined the light magical protections she had on the house. Her eyes then rested on her father, who struggled to unscrew a hose from the car.

 

“Papa”

 

Another grunt and curse before he replied.

 

“Yes, mia love?”

“What do you know about stocks?”

 

“Wait, what? FUCK!” He cursed as he rubbed the side of his head that he hit on the hood.

“Oh, bloody- I mean, those are bad words; please let’s not mention this to your mother, okay? But what are you asking about my flower?”

 

“Stocks, what do you know about stocks?”

“Honestly, my love, I don’t know much about them.”

 

She studied him, he genuinely seemed confused. She closed her book, as she folded her hands over it.

 

“Well, I’ve been reading up on stocks, and the stock exchange, and I wondered if you’d help me do a bit of investing.”

 

He just stared at her, mouth opening and closing before he rubbed his hand across his forehead. He looked around, checking to see if this was some grand prank before questioning her.

 

“I- Well, I mean I can, but why do you want to get into stocks? If there’s something you want to buy, love, you can let me know, and I can help you.”

 

“Thank you, Papa, but from the investment books I’ve been reading, it’s really a good idea to start young in case I would like to diversify my financial portfolio later on. You know, the early bird gets the worm and all that.”

 

The poor man was sweating; just this time it had nothing to do with the car.

 

“Uh- okay. Okay, this really isn’t my area of expertise, but let’s make a day of it. We can even go to the bank and ask some questions and maybe get you set up.. On your stocks?”

His smile was awkward as he tried to summon up some enthusiasm for the project she proposed. She giggled before gracing him with a blinding smile.

 

“That sounds lovely.”

 

“Well, darling, why don’t you go get dressed or whatever else you need to get together? It’ll take me about fifteen more minutes to fix this- I’ll need to clean up as well, so let’s say be ready to go in 45, hmm?”

 

She nodded, getting up off the curb before heading back inside. Her mind was whirling with the different moves she would have to make- certainly investing in American stocks to get around the 1976 sterling crash, but just long enough to avoid the American crash as well. She’d have to convert whatever gains she made into gallons periodically. Her new goal was to get her family moved into a nicer neighborhood that was either in a mixed wizarding community or close to it. She was still too young to perform magic outside of school in a non-magical area- the area their home was in was too Muggle for the ministry to allow them to hire a warder. She could hire one under the table, but the remaining amount she had saved was going to ingredients to become an animagus. And so, this would have to do until she could find something else to supplement her family.

 

December 28th, 1972 Evan’s Home

 

Hermione’s hand trembled as she read the prophet.

 

WEDDING OF THE CENTURY

THE MALFOYS & BLACKS UNITE

Article by : Carla Sweetwater

Socialite and Reporter

 

Happy Yule tidings! I write to you today with exceptionally grand news: two of the most powerful houses in wizarding Britain unite in magical matrimony. The Malfoys and The Blacks are not only the most powerful but also some of the oldest families in our society- both with long histories that span hundreds, if not thousands, of years.

 

Joined during the winter equinox

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and Narcissa Eltanin Black

They held a spectacular handfasting under a 500-year old hawthorn tree on the Malfoy’s expansive property.

 

Everyone here at the Daily Prophet offers and wishes this lovely couple their congratulations and raises a toast for a long, fruitful marriage. (See: Wedding photos and ceremony information attached below.)

 

 

 

She wanted to throw up- she might actually throw up as a debilitating wave of nausea hit her. Her hand violently shaking as she reread the article, her hands flipping through the photos and commentary from the guests, hoping that it was just a trick of magic. It was too early, nearly 4 years too early, for them to marry. They were supposed to marry in 1976. She knew, she knew there would be ripple effects of her changes, but this was the first time she had to grapple with the knowledge she might have gotten someone she personally knew unborn. She had disliked Draco, pitied him even when he had taunted her, even when he had bullied her- because she knew he was a product of this twisted family’s ideologies. What child would ever question their loving parents? Truly question parents that seemed to support and encourage him- even if it was born and wrought in evil. She believed he saw the error in his family’s ways toward the end; she saw the desperation and disbelief on his face in sixth year, even at the manor when he tried in his own way to not turn them over to the dark lord.

 

The Malfoys had only had one child- Draco. It was a well-known secret it was due to infertility issues and a complicated pregnancy, or else they would have had more than one. Now, now they would be starting earlier; now the probability of perfectly aligning conditions that allowed for Draco’s miraculous birth had narrowed even further. Her mind was spiraling as she started to hyperventilate. The first casualty of the war she had a hand in would be his- the only life she had ever taken in this life or the last would be his if he were not born. It must have been the push, the exposé on Riddle, and the general societal move to being more accepting of Muggle-borns and Half-bloods. Cygnus and Druella were staunch blood purists, much worse than others in the Black family. They had even been ardent supporters of Grindlewald. She couldn’t remember when Andromeda and Ted finally got together, but it seemed like it was around this time. They would be desperate to get their remaining daughter tied to a pureblood family of similar beliefs. She pressed a hand against her chest, trying to slow her breathing and beating heart. Tears fell from her eyes as she curled inward. Heavy snow rained down outside, her sobs silent as it piled higher and deeper.

 

I’m so sorry, Draco.

 

December 30th, 1972 Grimmauld

 

It was finally quiet; there had been mad rushes from numerous family members and guests over the last few weeks as the Black family came together to wed his cousin to the Malfoy git. He had even tried to covertly ask her if it was what she really wanted, but Narcissa answered him starry-eyed and blushing. It was what she had always dreamed of, always wanted- to be a bride, to be Lucius’s bride. And so he swallowed his displeasure and congratulated her. He remembered the feeling of their magic, the blinding cold of their joining as it radiated out from their bond. It was similar, too similar to the coldness of his family’s magic. He felt chilled during the ceremony, felt set apart as he was eyed with suspicion and disgust by his other cousin Bellatrix and her husband. Blown off by some of the older families, the ones he read were tied to the Dark Lord. His grandfather still stood by his side, still introduced him as the heir. His parents, while mostly silent, stood guard behind his back, Regulus held tightly within their grasp- it was the most unnerving feeling. He did, however, get a laugh from Regulus as he hexed some of the ruder guests with some of the more creative pranks he and his buddies had devised at Hogwarts. Due to the formality of such an occasion, no one could really complain once they grew tie-dye mustaches, large hairy facial warts, or longer curly ear hair. A poor fellow had to excuse himself during the vows due to an uncontrollable urge to belch in tune with Celestina Warbeck’s ode to Yuletide Fairies. His grandfather held back a smile as he pinched his arm in silent reprimand. Occasionally during the ceremony he would rub his chest over the pocket in his robes that held Hermione’s gift; he had opened it earlier, unable to stop his curiosity or desire to know. It was nestled in a photo album, one among many, but it stood out to him- called out to him. It was a single photo his slippery snake of an aunt must have taken. It was a photo of Hermione, resting against the tree he had found her at, her crown of jasmine blowing in the breeze, mingling with her auburn curls as she turned the page of the book she was reading. Toward the end of the loop, she would lift her beautiful face and smile as she looked up. It warmed him, filling his soul with unimaginable joy.

 

It was like she was there once more, blessing him with that brilliant smile of hers. He had carried it, nestled against his heart, ever since. He would find himself rubbing his chest throughout the day; each time his hand brushed against it, he would smile. He had his very own patronus in pictured form- something that kept the cold, the madness, and the melancholy thoughts away no matter where he was.

 

He was lying on the floor of the greenhouse situated in the back of Grimmauld. His eyes closed as he allowed the music from the stereobolt to flow through him- he felt like he was floating, his mind and magic humming to the tune blasting through the headphones. He marveled at the things muggles could make without magic. He had been so excited when he learned how it worked; he had forced Reggie to listen along with him the first time, both of them unmoored at first, unable to really grasp how it worked, how different the music was. But from the moment they finished that first song, both of them were hooked. He had even seen his father poking around the device when he thought he was alone. He had to pinch himself that day to really make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. The song picked up its beat.

 

He was listening to Hocus Pocus - some song by a Muggle band she had recommended. He had never heard anything like this; there was nothing like this, nothing even comparable in the wizarding world. He couldn’t help how his fingers tapped along or how he had to force his head not to rock along to the insane beat. His hand rested on his chest as he opened his eyes; the same warmth he felt from her magic tingled from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

 

She had blessed him with a whole universe he had barely begun to explore. As he stared up through the glass ceiling of the greenhouse, watching as the snow rained down like white falling stars- his mind flashed a single image.

 

There, standing under a hawthorn tree, were two familiar figures, one with black hair and the other with auburn.

He clenched his fist as his heart stuttered.

 

He wanted that. Wanted it so badly.

 

January 3rd, 1973 Hogwarts Express Platform

 

 

Today was the day; today was the day he would get to see her, get to touch her, and talk to her once again. The winter break was long; however, it was much more bearable than the last summer had been- now, now he had more tools, more pieces that helped curb his craving. He wondered at all the little changes she could have undergone in the weeks they were separated. Would she have lost her sun-kissed tan? Would she have gained more freckles? Thicker lashes? Would she have finally grown taller or remained as short and petite as she had always been? Would her hair be longer? Shorter? More wild? He loved it when it was wild, on those days she had run late and not tamed her curls into submission. They had always captured his attention with how they bounced and moved as if possessed, as if they were brought to life by her magic. He had nearly taken a bludger to the face during a practice game when he had caught them bouncing as she climbed the stairs of the quidditch stands. Today his grandfather and his father would be the ones that escorted him to the train. He was slowly warming up to both men; it was difficult to trust them, challenging to allow them in after they had remained neutral all these years- but he had a good feeling. His instincts had usually never steered him wrong in this regard. Reggie was off with a tutor at the Black manor; he would be heading to Hogwarts next year. He still worried for him all alone most of the year in this house, but Reggie had assured him that everything was so much better now. He had spent most of his time exploring, studying, or trailing along with their grandfather to his business or Wizengamot meetings. He had even confessed to sneaking out and playing with a few Muggle kids in a park a couple of blocks over. Now that- that had him smiling. He was slowly working on pulling the mischievousness out of his normally sedate little brother.

 

He heard knocking on his door; pulling himself together, he walked over and opened it- his grandfather, composed and yet dressed casually, stood waiting.

 

“Sirius, my boy, are you ready to go?”

“Absolutely.” He patted the pocket that held his shrunken trunk. Arcturus nodded, moving back to allow him out of the room. They both made their way down to the entry parlor, where Orion was waiting. Orion nodded to Arcturus, before offering his arm to both of them.

 

“I can side along with both of you to the platform- We still have a few minutes before we need to leave. Are you sure you have everything, Sirius?”

 

“I’ve got everything I need; I double- and triple-checked it.” He gave them his signature smirk; Orion held back the desire to roll his eyes. Sirius had given this promise numerous times over the years, but he still remembered all the times when Sirius was younger that he would suddenly remember some important thing he had forgotten, and then he would have to apparate back in a rush to grab it. Thankfully, Regulus was more meticulous with his things. They all joined arms as Orion apparated them to the platform.

 

Although it was a bit early, there were still hundreds of families clattering and standing around the platform as they said their goodbyes. Orion unlinked their arms, guiding the group off to the side.

 

“Now Sirius, please keep the mischief to a minimum. While I can enjoy reading a progress report every once in a while, the growing stack of letters from your head of house is starting to take up too much room on my desk. If you don’t intend to listen, at least summon the ounce of Slytherin running in your blood and not get caught. Alright?” Orion chided.

 

Sirius, flabbergasted, let out a barking laugh before agreeing.

 

“Remember you are the heir and act accordingly. Again, if you cannot find yourself to mind my words, at least don’t get caught like your father suggested.” Arcturus grunted, giving him a stern eyebrow raise and a sly smile.

 

“I will, I promise.” He gave them a blinding smile before setting off. The men waited a bit before heading down the platform and standing off to the side. They noticed when Sirius turned back to check if they were there before heading further down the platform. They watched as he started to run, watched as he collided with a small, auburn-haired witch. Watched as he laughed, as he smiled, picking up the beautiful witch and twirling her in the air. They watched as he set her down, pulling her into a tight hug.

 

“Kreacher”

 

The rumpled elf appeared, walking around Orion’s legs.

“What does the most noble master wish?”

 

“Is that the girl, Kreacher? The one you saw the bond with?”

 

Kreacher took a moment to look down the platform.

 

“Yes, it is the girl- gold. Kreacher sees it- Its bright, bright, and gold.”

 

Arcturus turned to look at Orion, both men nodding to each other before disapparating off the platform.

Notes:

Thank you once again, for all your lovely comments and sticking with me. <3

Chapter 23: Rocky Mountain High

Summary:

Fertilizing your soil and aerating it, is a necessity for all gardens. Without meticulous care, once fertile soil can be a death sentence for growing buds.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; this is my first fanfic.

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“March on. Do not tarry. To go forward is to move toward perfection. March on, and fear not the thorns, or the sharp stones on life’s path.” —Kahlil Gibran

 

---

 

May 13th, 1973 Tonks Cottage, Cotswold Hills

 

The wind was rattling the window panes- a rare summer storm that pelted the small cottage as the inhabitants inside waited in the tastefully decorated living room. Soft creams, light woods, and earthy colors blended in an elegant harmony that made the cottage feel homey. Feel warm in a way no Black properties could mimic. The day had been such a contradiction, matching the thoughts and desires of those waiting; it was sunny just over the next rolling hill, yet this small portion of southern British land was drenched in a bright summer rain. It was warm yet cool as the winds blew, sunny yet clouded as the songs of birds blended with the rhythmic drops of rain. Arcturus appeared to all as calm and collected as he always did, but Melnia could see the slight twitching of his leg as he sat in what they called a recliner. She could see the small drops of sweat that had started to decorate his brow- He had never fared well waiting for matters of this nature.

 

Alphard and Cassiopeia clattered like two old hens, gossiping and betting on what gender the baby would be- she sneered, not because of the gossip but due to the fact they couldn’t control themselves in front of the Tonks. It was horribly gauche. Narcissa, stood awkwardly in a corner of the living room closest to the door, all of her comportment lessons wasted as she eyed Ted Tonks’s Muggle parents with a barely concealed disdain. She was the only one from Cygnus’s branch that had decided to keep in contact, although she doubted that Narcissa had truthfully informed her husband of where she was today. Bellatrix, the wild beast of a witch, had sent a howler when she learned of what had happened with Andromeda. The threats and words she spewed were too vile even for her tastes. Short of setting fire to their own home, Cygnus and Druella very clearly stated they had no daughter named Andromeda; they had chosen to defy Arcturus’s direction as patriarch. Pollux and Irma, well, they had chosen to stand with Cygnus. They would pay for their disloyalty- let them pile their resistance higher and deeper. She would delight in watching Arcturus wield the axe; it was such an attractive part of his nature, even after all these years. Orion and Walburga, now they were the surprises—tight-lipped but cordial, they sat apart from the rest as they waited on the sofa. Regulus, the poor boy, looked bored out of his mind as he stared blankly at the ticking grandfather clock; he had already read through the few books he had brought along. It had taken nearly 10 hours so far.

 

She studied the Tonks, as they studied the rest of them. They were a posh couple, she surmised, well, from what she knew of Muggle fashion- which was nothing at all, but she had an eye for fabrics, for finery, and they were draped in it. Adorned in jewelry that screamed of legacies, a cadence to their words, a tilt of inflection only found among prominent blood. They had impeccable posture, the kind she had seen all of her life littered about in pureblood galas- the kind that spoke of good breeding. Furthermore, they certainly were a handsome pair as well; although there were signs of age, they looked youthful- vibrant. Andromeda had chosen well. Dress them in robes, and she would have never known they did not have magic. She held her tongue as she observed Lucretia and Dorea whispering together; it had been a challenge accepting her husband’s new direction, difficult not only to wrap her mind around it but also to live according to his wishes- accepting those she had fought with words, gestures, and political moves all of her life. Accepting those she had been raised to overlook, to scorn. She still had a bitter taste in her mouth, but she dared not question her husband.

 

There was an excited thumping coming down the hall. Ted Tonks, smiling brightly, his hair and clothes rumpled, his body spoke of exhaustion, but his eyes, his eyes shined with joy.

 

“It’s a girl! Everyone is doing okay; Andromeda did amazingly.”

 

There were soft gasps and cries of delight as Arcturus stood, walking briskly over to Ted to shake his hand. Everyone rushed to come closer, even Narcissa, who had remained distant, quickly moved forward, hoping to speak-to see her sister and her child.

 

“What a true blessing, no doubt a lovely daughter. Congratulations.” Arcturus patted him on the back before moving back.

“Thank you, patriarch.” There was a softness in Ted’s tone, his eyes regarding Arcturus in a new light before turning his attention to his father.

 

Mr. Tonks gave his hand a firm shake, nodding in acceptance as Mrs. Tonks cupped his cheeks, whispering congratulations and praises. They all paused as they heard the light sound of heels walking down the hallway. Andromeda emerged, beautiful and radiant as ever. Not a hair or robe out of place as she gingerly made her way to a padded rocking chair in the living room, the family parting to allow her through. In her arms was a tiny pink bundle, hair black as night, skin pink and flushed. Ted rushed to her side, helping her sit as his eyes soaked her in- eyes wavering in amazement and love as he gently chided her.

 

“Love, you shouldn’t be walking around alone yet- I would have come to help you.”

She smiled at him, taking one of his hands to place a light kiss on his knuckles.

 

“You know that I would never let something like this slow me down.”

“Oh, of course, I should have known.”

Ted laughed softly as he leaned down to kiss her forehead, then knelt to place a kiss on his daughter’s cheek. Andromeda was glowing, exhausted but divine, as she started to move the baby.

 

“Thank you all for being here- Let me proudly introduce my daughter, Nymphadora Tonks.”

 

A few winced at the choice of name but quickly recovered. Cassiopeia covertly handed Alphard a gallon.

 

She gently moved her daughter, unswaddling the bundle to present her to the family, her hands firm and unwavering as she eyed her grandfather first. Arcturus stepped forward, hands slightly quaking as he accepted the baby; he couldn’t help but notice how light she was. The moment he held her in his arms, his heart beat uncontrollably; she was so little, so delicate. He ran his fingers over her soft cheeks as he memorized her features, his magic rushing to accept her, to imprint her in its core. She definitely favored her mother, but only time would tell how her features might change; that much is what he remembered. There was nothing, no indication she was a Halfblood, nothing that made her any different from any pureblood babe he had held before. Dread sank in as he realized this. Melania stood close to his side as she cooed and gushed over her. He moved to pass her over to Melania, but before he could, he jolted in shock, his hand tightening on the child as Melania's eyes widened, slightly taking a step back.

 

“Oh my goodness!” Mrs. Tonks cried.

“Well, I’ve never seen that before.” Mr. Tonks chimed in; even Ted was at a loss for words.

Narcissa started to tear up, her hand covering her lips as her eyebrows raised to her hairline. Even the flamboyant Alphard looked at a loss for words as Cassiopeia’s smile looked vicious. Lucretia and Dorea simply held each other’s arms as they pushed to get closer. Orion and Walburga’s mouths opened and closed in pure shock before they quickly looked at each other. Regulus tried his hardest to see what was going on as the family crowded closer to the baby.

 

Andromeda sat smugly in her chair as she looked onto the menagerie of emotions on her family’s faces, taking in each and every look as if it was a trophy, a collection of small victories in a silent battle. Little Nymphadora’s hair had changed from a dark black to a stunning blonde before slowly dimming into a soft brown and then cycling into a vibrant blue while in her grandfather’s arms. As she opened her eyes, they too changed from a dark black to a stunning icy blue- to green, to brown. Even her features morphing to mimic the ones that held her.

 

“She’s, she’s magical! She is a Metamorphmagus!” Narcissa broke the silence, stepping back as she collapsed into a chair- a smile threatening to take over as she wiped a stray tear.

 

“Yes, the first one from our line in nearly 150 years.” Andromeda proudly stated. Her hand coming up to clench Ted’s tightly. She knew, knew the significance of her daughter’s ability and what it would mean for the family. What she hoped it would change.

 

“And… What is that? A Metamorphmagus?” Mrs. Tonks asked, confused but delighted as she watched her granddaughter change. Mr. Tonks’s head just tilted in awe.

 

The deep timbre of Arcturus’s voice as he stared at Nymphadora in reverence answered the curious Tonks; he gently passed her into Melania’s waiting arms. His eyes locked with Orion’s, and he gave him a small, imperceptible nod.

 

“It is a rare gift, something that has been lost to my family for years, a gift that you can only be born with, not learn. It is seen as a true blessing, an indication of magical power, magical purity in a family- for the Blacks, it is the ability to change your form at will- To master the magic in your blood to bend the physical form into anything you desire.”

 

“Well, that’s certainly delightful, but it does seem like a bit of a challenge to keep up with once they get older.” Mr. Tonks joked, cutting the heavy weight that had settled over the group- it got smiles and soft laughs from the rest of the family. As they slowly handed Nyphmadora over, each member whispered blessings, whispering praises and joy as they soaked in the newborn. The rain had finally stopped; light droplets of water dripped from the rooftop and from the plants and trees as the sun broke through the clouds, bathing the house in a kaleidoscope of colors.

 

Arcturus stood back, allowing the moment to settle in his memories, his attention stolen by the copy of the family tapestry hanging behind Andromeda. It had updated, filling in Nymphadora’s name and birth. His gaze lowered, Andromeda’s eyes locked with his.

 

She sat like a queen, a true Black, the weight of the tapestry hung above her head- Yet her shoulders never wavered. Her form never bending. The might of her will, of her magic resonated with him.

 

 

And so, he too would stand tall; he too wouldn’t bow or waver as he dragged this family out of its spiraling ruin.

 

June 9th, 1973 Hogwarts

 

“Look, Sirius, all I’m saying is that you might need to ease up a bit.”

 

James suggested, he leaned slightly to the side as he braced for any possible retaliation.

Remus stared intently at both boys, his book long forgotten as he too braced himself.

 

“What are you talking about, Jamie?”

 

It was cool, calm, and collected—a low, cold fury that leaked out of his lips between a fanged smile. It was a complete flip from the normally boisterous joker.

 

“Listen, mate, I get it, really, she’s wonderful, but it’s starting to be a bit stalkery, and I don’t think witches- even ones as nice as Hermione—enjoy that.” James countered, hands up in surrender as he scooted down the bench they were seated at.

“What do you mean you get it?” he hissed, eyes narrowing as he leaned over to make up the distance James had tried to create. Remus closed his eyes, sighing loudly as he rubbed his face.

 

“That right there is what he’s talking about, Sirius- You flip if any other male starts talking about Hermione positively or negatively. Plus the shadow thing? We get it, mate; she’s off limits, but you can’t be biting people’s heads off at every little thing.”

James nodded along solemnly.

 

“Yes! What lovely Remus here said, just maybe tone it down a bit. And don’t you sneer at me, young man! Look at your bloody knuckles, for Merlin’s sake! They’re still raw from you clobbering that Ravenclaw bloke.”

 

Sirius huffed before rubbing the fabric of his robes. The bruising red and purple of his fist clashing with the pale white of his skin, he hadn’t let anyone heal it yet- the stinging pain stirred a wave of satisfaction in his blood that he wasn’t too sure he actually understood. Physical force, it seemed, was something that the curse on Hogwarts didn’t pick up- anything related to magic, though, was still off the table- but his wand hand had itched so terribly, trembling as he forced himself not to hex the Ravenclaw. And so, before he knew it, he had punched him square in the jaw.

 

“He was just suffering from an ailment, and I happened to know the remedy.”

 

Remus rolled his eyes as he tore up a blade of grass and chucked it at him.

 

“Oh and what ailment was that?”

“Being a bloody cunt- quite a tragedy; the only remedy was a physical reset.”

 

James groaned as he hopped up from the bench, pacing a bit before going to sit in the grass next to Remus. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling on the strands before adjusting his glasses.

 

“What did the tosser even do?”

“Or say?” Remus added.

 

Sirius softened a bit; he could tell they were trying to offer an olive branch. Trying to understand his maddening itch. They had backed him up, supported his tics, and moved schedules around to align them with the little Hufflepuff he orbited. Never complained when he disappeared or reappeared with Hermione in tow- but this, it seemed, was a bit too much even for them. He knew he was struggling; in some ways it had gotten better, yet in others it had gotten worse. There were so many new emotions he didn’t quite understand, just acted on.

 

“He was telling his mates how he liked how she smelled, and the cuntery continued when he bet them he could convince her to go to hogsmeade with him next year.”

 

“Hmm, yes, what a cunt indeed. Definitely punch-worthy—detention-worthy as well.” James stated as he deadpanned into the distance. He had taken to ripping out blades of grass like Remus, twisting and tearing them before letting them scatter into the wind. Repeating the process with more force as time went on.

 

“Absolute tosser certainly- BUT, this is something you’re going to have to work on, mate.” Remus chimed, he pushed his closed book into his satchel. He dared to look into Sirius’s face as he pushed, green eyes evaluating his tense posture on the bench.

 

“She’s friendly, pretty, nicer than most, and bloody brilliant- Hey what did we say about the sneering? Anyway, if it’s not some Ravenclaw bloke, it’ll be another bloke in some other house. You can’t go around decking them all, and once she learns about it, you’ll be lucky if she doesn’t hex you herself.” Remus continued, trying to reason with him.

 

James noticed that Sirius seemed to wilt at the last part, paling a bit before looking away. He racked his brain for the best way to word what he wanted to say next.

 

“Look, mate, if you’re worried about another bloke, just learn to trust Hermione. Even I can see she gravitates to you, constantly looking for you, always the first to ask how you’re doing. She’s a sweet witch, but it’s different with you. You’re just as special to her as she is to you.”

 

It was an instant effect; Sirius seemed to grow ten times larger in his seat as his chest puffed out. Confidence practically oozing out of him. A bright smile taking over his pouting face. Remus let out a chuckle, sharing a knowing look with James.

 

“Yeah? You think so?”

 

“Of course, Casanova- now no more broody moping,or unconventional healing methods for random blokes with ailments.” James laughed.

 

“Okay, okay, I’ll work on toning it down a bit. I promise.”

 

He huffed; his smile was a bit brittle as he rubbed his sternum. It would be a challenge; everything within him was attuned to her, attuned to what she said, what she did, what others said and did involving her. He had snapped his quill in half the other day when he heard Mulciber call her a mudblood after potions. He’d gotten a week of detention for tripping him down a flight of stairs- well he tried to argue it was only the bottom half, but his head of house didn’t appreciate the nuance he provided. Hermione scolded him, her disappointment palpable that day, and the frown that graced her face ripped through him like a hot knife. It was worse than the week he spent cleaning dirty cauldrons- felt worse in some ways than the splinching he received.

 

James and Remus both got up, dusting off their robes before going to stand near Sirius. James clapped him on his shoulder; the famed Potter smirk was present.

 

“Come on, let’s get you to Pomfrey before that gets worse- you won’t be able to hold a bat at this rate.” James nodded to his hand before tugging on Sirius’s robes.

 

“You’ll be kicked off the quidditch team before we even get to play together, mate- And guess who’d take your place? Anderson- the twig couldn’t even open his jar of ink. That’d be a travesty for a beater! A true travesty!” James moaned in mock despair.

 

“Plus, it’s a dead giveaway you’ve been punching people. Excuse me, I mean tossers with nice things to say about Hermione. Talk about not being subtle.” Remus needled, shoulder leaning in as he smirked. Sirius gave him a three-finger salute, smiling as he scrunched his nose.

 

“Yes, yes, the horror- lets go.” James huffed and pulled once more. Sirius wiggled his eyebrows, standing up with a flourish that made both James and Remus groan again. If it wasn’t broody, snappish rampages, it was over-the-top jokes, movements, or an unspeakable ridiculousness that even James found it challenging to top. He seemed to flip so quickly these days.

He bumped into James’s shoulder as he passed him, reaching out to ruffle his hair. James sputtered as he tried to brush down the aggravated cowlick.

 

“All I’m hearing is that there’s an older witch who is dying to tend to me.”

 

“Yes, I’m sure Madam Pomfrey has been waiting just for you, loverboy.” Remus chuckled.

 

He walked behind James and Sirius as they made their way to the hospital wing, his mind whirling with catastrophic thoughts- it had been known that the Blacks were unstable, vicious, and cruel- undeniably powerful. Cautionary tales followed for as long as they had existed. His father had even cautioned him about his friendship when he first realized who he had gotten off the train with in his first year. Yet, he knew and experienced someone who didn’t fit what was always said, a kindred spirit in many ways. Now, now he saw what was just underneath the surface. Sirius might be more like the Blacks of old than he had realized. Merlin, help them all if he chooses to nurture it.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

Hermione sat on her bed, eyes intensely focused as she braided Beth’s hair, the light-brown locks twisted and curled into an intricate Dutch box braid. It was a challenge to only move her hands as Amy practiced painting her toes different colors. She could have charmed them, but she begged to try using some of the Muggle nail polish Hermione had brought along from home. Beth was flipping through a new society magazine, gracing them all with the newest tidbits on social policy moving through the Muggle world.

 

“So, tell me, are you going to be a bit relieved once the semester ends, Mia?” Beth probed.

“Hmm?” Hermione, hummed as she pulled another strand of hair into the braid.

“Relieved that your shadow will wane a bit.”

 

“That’s not how shadows work.”

Amy made a face, turning quickly to look at Beth, both of their expressions pulled tightly into a face that screamed “Really?’ before returning to their tasks.

 

“Darling, you’re the brightest witch of this age- please don’t make me throttle you.” Amy begged, pinching her toe harder as she tried not to get the polish on her skin.

“Yes, please, you know what- you know who I’m talking about.” Beth scolded, flipping a page of her magazine with a bit more force.

 

“Oh, do I?” Hermione teased.

“Okay, you troll- I’ll be blunt. I’m talking about Sirius. Will you be relieved that he can’t shadow you all hours of the day?” Beth stated while Hermione pushed her face back straight, trying to keep her work from being ruined.

 

“Yes, it was sweet and kind of cute in the beginning, but he’s so intense. Like all the time. I think I’d go a little mad if I were you.” Amy slipped out between blowing on Hermione’s toes, trying to dry the peach polish she had used. Hermione went silent for a bit before answering them. She had always rationalized that she was a creature of habit, of order- she liked things how she liked them, made whatever moves or changed whatever she needed in order for everything to be ‘right.’ Sirius- Sirius was slowly weaving into her ordered life, into every schedule she devised. She loved, craved the fact that he just seemed to want to be- to be with her no matter what she did. She had never experienced that- a friend who was actually happy to listen to her, happy to read when she wanted to read, or discuss topics others considered boring. Who lit up when she entered a room instead of wilting, instead of bracing themselves. Someone who seemed to like her wholly, instead of just tolerating the parts of her they didn’t like. The others liked her, she could tell, but it was just- different. It was a different she had grown to depend on.

 

“I don’t know, I think it’s sweet. I’ve grown to anticipate it, so I’ll miss it, miss him.”

 

“Hmm, well, momma did always tell me the smart ones can be a bit odd.” Beth hummed.

“You do understand I have your hair in my hands, right?” Hermione poked the back of Beth’s head as she laughed.

 

“You’d say something if that changes, right?” Amy questioned as she was closing up the bottles of polish as she admired her work.

 

“Of course, you’d know if it ever changes- I’m not afraid of speaking my mind or using my wand if I need to.” Hermione stated as she finished up Beth’s hair.

 

“Then again, one mean stare and the poor boy would probably dissolve- Gosh actual stern words or a hex, and he’d probably crumple into dust and cease to exist.” Beth giggled.

 

“Just.. Just be careful Mia, he is a Black.” Amy cautioned. Hermione stopped, eyes narrowing on her dormmate.

 

“And what exactly does that mean?” her voice low as she asked.

Amy picked up on the threatening tone immediately, hands coming up in surrender.

 

“He does seem different, but if it isn’t him, it’ll be his family, with you know -you being a Muggle-born—and if for some mythical reason he or his family isn’t a problem- it’ll be his growing admirers just begging to take your place.”

 

“Sirius is the one who gets to decide who he wants as friends. I am the one who decides who I want to be friends with- no one else matters.”

 

Amy looked to Beth, their eyes knowing.

 

“Um, yeah, friends- you’re right, Mia. No one else matters.”

 

They laughed and joked, pampering each other and gossiping into the night.

Once Hermione was alone with her thoughts as she studied her charmed canopy- maybe- maybe she thought she was a bit mad, just a bit mad for enjoying his attention as much as she did. Even if she was, it was a type of madness she couldn’t find the desire to treat.

 

 

June 13th, 1973 Hogwarts

 

Hermione sat in the nearly empty great hall stirring her tea; she had just finished up her run and workout with Sirius, who had yet to make it down to breakfast. He had mentioned how restless he had been with Remus the last few days; the poor boy was peaky and prone to making noises of discomfort at night- which in turn had kept up Sirius, who confessed he was a light sleeper. She knew why: the full moon would rise in just two days on the 15th, and Remus would be exhausted just in time to leave for the end of the semester the next day. She wondered whether or not the boys had started to catch on to Remus’s condition or if they were still under the impression their mate just had horrible luck and a terrible immune system.

Her journal was open as she read the report her father had made about their growing investments. An owl earlier in the week carried a thick bundle of investment reports and inquiries she had made into a few properties- she had spent the week reviewing them- charting what moves to make next. Her father, despite his concerns, which he had many, allowed her to invest the money he had saved for her - the plan had always been to use it toward college. Now, with the Hogwarts fund, those savings had been more of a fund for her once she turned of age. It was a lot by this time’s standard- one thousand pounds. Nearly half of what he made in a year. It was a combination of funds he and Rose had saved, dividing each into three separate funds for their daughters- from odd jobs, birthday money, random bonuses, and the like. As she reviewed the stocks progress, she calculated arithmancy projections for other investments and bonds- with the combination of her prior knowledge and magic, she had been able to make an astronomical return- 675% of her initial investment. She had taken the funds her parents had saved over thirteen years and quadrupled it- her father had written to her in a wave of minor panic and barely comprehended amazement when he reported what the profit reports were saying. She’d then taken the near eight thousand pounds and reinvested it into more stocks. Now, after months of aggressive moves, panicked letters from home, she stared at the final balance—eighty- seven thousand pounds. That was enough to move her family, enough to protect their home, enough to get started on wizarding investments, and even enough to arrange an expedited relocation out of the country if things got too dangerous again.

 

She jotted down what she wanted to do next as the great hall slowly filled with more and more students. Sirius and the others still had not made it down by the time the morning owls descended. Thankfully, no one was paying attention as a tawny brown owl delivered her the prophet, lucky that no one was paying attention when the ominous form of Oriel, the Black family owl, swooped down and delivered her a black envelope. She quickly checked it for anything malicious- surprised when nothing registered. Her eyes narrowed on the letter in her hand as she quickly shuffled it into her journal- that would need to be read somewhere much more private than the great hall. As she scanned the prophet, she nearly chuckled in surprise- it took her a moment to realize someone else was making moves early- just as she was. Her eyes gleaming in triumph as she calculated what this might mean. Eyes shifting back to the Black letter hidden in her journal.

 

 

 

A NEW BLACK WAVE?

WIZENGAMOT IN SHOCK AS BLACK FACTION SHIFTS

Article by: Norton Briggsby

Wizengamot reporter

Verified by: Herald Sinclair

Daily Prophet Lead Investigator

 

There has been speculation- just speculation whispered through the halls of the ministry and Wizengamot—as many notable scribes and reporters have seen a decline in certain groups and members visiting. Specifically, a decline in some of the more traditional blocks of the Wizengamot meeting with the notorious Black family patriarch- Arcturus Black. Tensions have been high as many more restrictive bills have been stonewalled or simply failed due to the lack of support from the Black family voting block. When questioned, the patriarch simply refused to comment or stated, “We’ll see.”

 

And we are certainly seeing it now.

During one of the busiest voting sessions of the year, the Black family voting block has united with some of the more progressive and Grey family parties- a shocking shift. Voting across party lines on nearly 95% of the bills that went through this session. This is causing an uproar in the Wizengamot; duels nearly broke out as longtime traditional allies spewed venom and dismay as the Black family patriarch stopped them in their tracks.

 

Since the inception of our Wizengamot, the Black family has always staunchly supported more traditional laws and values- this shift is not only a surprise but also an arithmetic improbability for those who tracked which bills would succeed or fail. Focus groups and panelists are scrambling to recalculate and rethink the language and impact of bills still in the works.

 

Many have had concerns about an increase in more traditional bills as more sacred 28 push back on the information that has taken British wizarding society by storm these last few years- but now?

If one of the oldest families of the Sacred 28 is leaning in the opposite direction, progressing forward instead of back- one can only speculate once more.

 

How long will it take for the more traditional blood purist families to come to reason?

Notes:

I appreciate your patience with this- I got into a bit of a slump. I have objectives and details for each year, and I completed them a bit earlier in the year than I intended. So I was a bit stumped on how to end out this school year. I'll be picking up the pace a bit now that a lot of the foundational groundwork is complete- changing a family's dogma, a society's perceptions is a bit unbelievable to me unless there are real reasons for the change. People might change in the moment, but rewiring bias and perceptions- that takes time.

Thank you again for all the lovely comments and suggestions- I promise I read and see everyone! It's a joy to see them and how insightful you guys are <3

I hope you enjoy

Chapter 24: Wildflower

Summary:

Do not overlook what you perceive to be common flowers- for your false perception could prove deadly

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

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“I was an adventurer, but she was not an adventuress. She was a ‘wanderess.’ Thus, she didn’t care about money, only experiences - whether they came from wealth or from poverty, it was all the same to her.”― Roman Payne

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June 13th, 1973, Hogwarts (Evening)

 

The soft flow of music drifted around the elegant parlor that the Room of Requirement had conjured. Tall cedar bookshelves lined the walls, filling the room with the soft scent of parchment and ink as Hermione sat nestled against an old Victorian chaise, decorated in stitching of Uther Pendragon’s most notable conquest- the subjugation of the Great Dragon Kilgharrah. She had decided to use the Room of Requirement; she didn’t want any hint of this getting back to Sirius or anyone else. She was draped in a soft woolen blanket, clothed in a light summer dress as she slowly opened the Black Letter she had received in the Great Hall earlier in the day, smoothing out the creases on the antique table before holding it in her hand once more. She picked up her Darjeeling tea, blowing lightly as her eyes scanned the sharp, flowing script on the decorated parchment—lightly inked borage lined the words. Her eyes narrowed as she reread it over and over.

 

 

TO MISS HERMIONE EVANS

FROM THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS AND NOBLE HOUSE OF EVANS

 

We request your presence on the 24th of June at 12 pm.

 

High Tea

 

Arranged by The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black

Host: Lord Arcturus Black & Lady Melnia Black

In Attendance: Orion & Walburga Black

 

at Black Manor, Tisbury- Wiltshire

 

Response needed as soon as possible; Portkey will be provided.

 

She slowly set the letter down, her mind calculating all the implications this letter held. She sipped her tea once more, both hands now holding the cup as her nail tapped against the porcelain. A request, not an invitation, a more formal, heavy-handed approach- the declaration of her house. The only time she had ever used it was with Sirius. This meant they had spoken with him- there was already an understanding of connection and proximity. The invitation was for her alone, not her family- something she mulled over. She would need to tread carefully; she would need to plan. This was another battle, less flashy, less bloody, she hoped, but a battle all the same. She calmly folded up the letter, placing it into her bag. She took her time, her mind wandering as she slowly stitched together her next moves. Once she was done, she packed up her belongings before heading to the kitchens.

 

June 16th, 1973, Hogwarts Express

 

“Come on, Remus, here, wear these.”

 

Hermione fretted over Remus, handing him a conjured pair of aviator sunglasses as she smoothed back his sweaty hair. He had been wincing every time the light caught his eyes as they traveled along the path to the train. Her arm linked through his as she helped him walk- he had stammered so cutely when she forced him to accept her help. His eyes bounced from her face to Sirius. She had to hold back her laugh earlier when she mean-mugged him with her stern face as long as possible until he caved. The quiet thank you he had managed was enough as she pulled him along. Of course both James and Sirius were enamored with the concept of the sunglasses she had conjured and begged for their own. She had stylized theirs with red and gold on the temples- little lions embossed near the hinges. They had loudly declared that they loved them before strutting off. It was a beautiful day- the sun was out, not a cloud in the sky. It was warm enough to not need the thicker robes above their uniforms and just breezy enough to keep them cool under the direct sunshine. Sirius was at her side, having slowly migrated back as they traveled, laughing at a joke James made- every once in a while his hand would reach out, barely brushing hers as he turned his head to peek at her. As if he was checking if she was still beside them as they walked. Lily and Severus were just a few footsteps ahead as they bickered over hypothetical potion alterations. After a while, she conjured another pair of sunglasses, handing them to Remus before nodding to Severus’s back. Remus huffed, walking just a bit faster with her as he tapped Severus’s back. Severus turned mid-stride, looking to the glasses held in Remus’s hand before sighing and taking them. He grumbled out a thank you before putting them on as well. Remus rolled his eyes before looking back to Hermione.

 

She had offered Severus a pair before they made their way down to the train, but he had sworn his eyes weren’t weak like the Gryffindor boys and needed no protection. After the third or fourth wince, the fifth time trying to tilt to the side while walking, and the third time switching hands to block out the sun, she figured he’d accept a pair if he was caught mid-thought. Thankfully he did- She was slowly breaking down that wall of pride.

 

They eventually made their way onto the express; soft whispers and looks of curiosity were thrown their way. The combination of Muggle oddities and the blended group of all houses—all bloodlines was still a hot topic for the majority of Hogwarts. Everyone knew of how turbulent the relationship was between the boys and even the sisters at the beginning of last year was. She hoped it inspired more students to accept interhouse unity- there were small pockets that had developed, mostly the younger groups, but she still counted that as a success. They all crammed into a familiar compartment- Hermione slid down to her seat at the window, Sirius moving in right behind her. Severus sat on the end of their bench, already whipping out a book on obscure potions to read. Remus slid into his normal spot at the window, then followed James and Lily. Lily decided to also sit at the end; she was softly speaking to James about the ethics of a prank he had proposed for next year- apparently he still didn’t understand why irremovable charmed hair snakes that hissed out crude poems might be an issue for some. By the time the train started to move, Sirius had slowly grumbled and grunted until she allowed him to rest his head in her lap. She softly hummed a low tune as she stared out the window- a small smile on her face as she felt him melt under her touch. Her mind was soothed as she ran her hands through his silky locks. Of course, it was tradition; it was part of their routine. She ignored that tiny part of her that warmed, ignored the soft fluttering of her heart, ignored the familiar heady feeling seeping into her chest- ignored how her magic purred in contentment.

 

Ignorance was bliss.

 

June 24th, 1973, Black Manor 12pm

 

The Black Manor conservatory was decorated in flowers and large sheer swaths of white shimmering fabric and softly fluttering fairy lights as several house-elves coordinated together. The windows were charmed to allow the summer breeze and the smells of the expansive garden that surrounded them through the open stained glass panels; soft white and lilac petals rained down from wisteria hung from the roof over the edges of the walls lined with delicate trays of fruits and light sandwiches. The petals vanished before they ever touched the elaborate spread. Hints of blue, gold, green, and yellow filtered through the soft natural light, giving the conservatory an airy, warm ambiance as hints of diluted color splashed upon the white silk tablecloth. While the table was a long oval, the arrangement of the chairs was decidedly uneven; four elegant chairs graced most of one side, while a lone chair sat across from them on the other side of the table. While the conservatory was bathed in light, the occupants were adorned in robes of dark black and green, a harsh contrast that unsettled the balance of the room.

 

Arcturus stood in front of the table as he waited for their guest to arrive. He had received a reply to his request the same day he had sent his letter. He had taken great care to ensure Sirius never learned of the meeting he had arranged, coaxing him and Regulus to spend some time with their uncle Alphard at his estate while he and his parents evaluated the girl he had kept hidden all these years. His reports showed she was from a lower-middle-class Muggle family situated on the border of impoverished lowlifes that inhabited the darker corners of Cokesworth. Nothing in his documents screamed that they were anything more than a common Muggle family. She did have some interpersonal relationships with more prominent wizarding families.

 

The Princes, Abbotts, McLaggens, Shacklebolts, and the Potters. Their investigator had listed concerns that she might be a possible social climber, although neither she nor her sister presented as such. Whispers of a title- The brightest witch of her age—made sense as she easily outpaced her peers. He had internally cringed as he learned of her house. A sodding Hufflepuff of all things. Yet she was the witch with the golden bond. He was sure he could handle any potential fallout after-should Sirius learn of this meeting—but it seemed the young witch had kept silent about it as well. Loud thumping steps interrupted his thoughts as Miss Hermione Evans was led to the conservatory. Behind him, Melania and Walburga seemed to straighten and tense in their chairs as they barely concealed their curiosity. Orion stood stoically behind Walburga’s chair as he gently took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb on the back of her gloved hand- it was just as much a calming gesture for her as it was for him. He had to force the frown from forming on his face as he viewed her closely for the first time.

 

She had wild, bushy auburn hair with golden highlights, barely contained under some sort of Muggle cap. While she certainly could be considered a beauty in most social circles, it was overshadowed by the frumpy Muggle clothes she wore and clumsy, unrefined gestures she made as she loudly oohed and awed over the portraits on her path and eventually the conservatory. She was wearing a white oversized shirt with the words “Can yah Dig it?” in large print splayed across her chest. Her pants were blue and torn, some sort of fabric he had never seen before, with white scuffed flat shoes. In her hands was a set of keys that clanked and clattered every time she waved her hands about- which was often, as she wildly pointed at numerous art pieces. She had loudly told the house-elf who offered to take them that she needed to hang onto them lest she lose her house keys. Did Muggles really need that many keys to their homes?

 

He did notice her wand, the only thing on her that gave any indication she was a witch- an ivory wood sticking out of the frizzy ponytail that had been forced through an odd opening in the back of her hat. This was the girl his heir had aligned himself with? This was the lovely young witch the Potters had gushed over? This was the girl with a magical bond to their Most Ancient and Noble house? Ted Tonks was simply a reflection of what he had been raised to expect in other purebloods, something familiar, something much more palatable; this Muggle-born girl screamed “unrefined,” “uncultured,” and “other.”

 

He quickly masked his displeasure as he held out his hand to welcome her- before he could get the words out, she skipped over, nearly knocking over the house-elf that had escorted her in, taking his hand roughly as she vigorously shook his hand in an aggressively firm Muggle handshake while she looked everywhere but at him. The annoying clattering of her keys continued.

 

“Ohhhhh boy! Look how purty this is. Thank you for inviting me! You must be Sirius’s family! Stunners all of you!”

 

She loudly exclaimed as she peeked behind Arcturus to wink at the rest of the family at the table. His mouth dropped open in surprise. He could hear Walburga’s startled choking gasp. He turned his head to see Melania gripping her pearl necklace as she quickly picked up her teacup with one hand and took a large gulp. Orion had paled but looked like he was about to break as he tightened his hand on Walburga’s chair.

 

How vulgar.

 

“Uh- yes, thank you, Miss Evans, for coming- My name is Arcturus Black, patriarch of the Black family. My wife, Melania, is sitting there at the table. Sirius’s parents, Orion and Walburga are seated there as well. We have been meeting with our young heir’s friends and family- Just a formality to better know who you all are.”

 

Arcturus tried to pull his hand away from her firm grip as he tried to maintain some sense of decorum. Yet, for such a small witch, she held on tightly until she was done waving enthusiastically at the others. This time, even with all of his years of training, he could not hide the grimace on his face as he led her to her seat. He should be angry; he knew he would have been boiling if this had happened years ago, but this little witch was so disarming that it was just repressed confusion and awkward embarrassment for her and for himself that settled heavily in him. He had slightly recovered once he settled into his own seat- muscle memory snapping his body into impeccable form. Orion followed his example and sat once the girl finally settled in her own seat. Thankfully the grating clattering of her keys ended as she lobbed them onto the table. Melania flinched at his side. He could feel the dismay radiating from his family as she then haphazardly picked up her own cup of freshly poured tea, the fine porcelain striking against her plate, tea dribbling and sloshing all over as she roughly slung it up to her face. There was a loud slurp before she used the back of her arm to wipe her face.

 

Merlin, help him.

 

“So, Miss Evans- what can you tell us about yourself?” Melania interjected after an awkward silence.

 

“Well, I have two sisters; only one of them has magic like me. But they can both be right prats- I’m sure you know how that can be. I’m a huge fan of late-night soap operas and gossip magazines. Oh, and I live in cokesworth- its a dreary little town next to some mines, but it does have a nice park.”

 

“Oh.” Melania was at a loss for words; they all were. The girl never asked any follow-up questions or continued with any additional details; she just reached out to grab some sandwiches with her bare hand, dropping them onto her plate before brushing off her hands to the side of the table with loud slaps. She ate them- without pause, nearly stuffing her mouth as she grunted in delight. Walburga unable to stand the sight of the girl any longer, sharply cleared her throat.

 

“You see, my son is the heir to a very prominent family, and with that there are certain expectations and formalities that need to be upheld.”

 

“Oh cool,” Hermione replied, barely looking at the woman before sipping her tea loudly once more. Arcturus could feel the anger brewing from Walburga- a light flush of red spread across her pale cheeks.

 

“Yes- that means that while he is free to network and connect at Hogwarts with anyone he chooses-we as his family must ensure he aligns himself in the end with those who are considered proper company. I’m sure you understand that much?"

 

“Yeah, I can get that,” she mumbled out as she twirled her fork on the table, giggling as it caught the colored light. Orion shuffled in his seat, sweating as he pulled on the collar of his robes. Walburga bit down on her tongue; Melania jumped in to prevent her from continuing.

 

“And so, we would like to offer a sponsorship of sorts- just a few tutors or lessons you might need to help acclimate better into the wizarding world-the one our young heir will need to navigate once he has graduated from Hogwarts.”

 

Walburga had cooled somewhat after Melania’s offer.

 

“Yes, just something to help ensure everyone properly knows their roles and place.”

 

Walburga added- the men nodding along to her words as she shuffled in her seat. Suddenly the magic in the conservatory flickered, the light waning as a dark cloud rolled in-blocking out the sun. The charmed petals turned black as they rotted mid-fall—fairy lights flickering as the breeze turned harsh- the white shimmering fabrics beating harshly as they tangled and writhed in the wind. Arcturus jolted as he felt a hot, burning tendril of magic sear up his arms; there were gasps from the others as they too felt the violent magic press against them. Arcturus jumped up, wand in hand- before he could utter a word, his wand and the wands of the others were ripped from them. He and Orion were standing now, bodies instinctively leaning toward their wives in a protective stance. The wards of the ancestral manor were screaming in Arcturus’s mind- in his magic. There, sitting across the table with their wands in her hand, was Miss Evans - Her golden eyes burning, glowing with magic as she slowly stood. Gone was the unrefined, guileless young witch.

 

“Oh- you wish to teach me my proper role- my proper place? And what, pray tell, does that mean?” Her voice was low and visceral—her tone mocking as her expression radiated disdain.

 

She was smiling now, a cruel cold but beautiful curve that gave her an otherworldly beauty- although her eyes remained molten- burning as she glared at them. She elegantly waved her hand; they felt magic ripple as her Muggle attire transfigured into a form-fitting cream dress, elegantly cut as it brushed against the floor. Her hat was gone as her auburn curls were tamed and reformed into an intricate half-up design, her hair adorned with irises. She was decorated in small, delicate jewels. Pearls in her ears, a sparkling diamond situated on a thin silver chain around her neck. Her nails were painted the same deep purple as the flowers in her hair. Arcturus’s eyes trembled as he stared in awe- wandless magic, pure unfiltered power, as her wand glowed just as brightly in her hair. It cast a golden halo that sparked and flickered. She stood before them like a goddess of old- Justice as her crown and pure magic as her sword. She stepped back from her chair, slowly making her way around the table, her nails dragging across the silk tablecloth, digging and tearing into the delicate fabric- their wands trailing behind her in the air as if they were obedient servants- the women scrambled to stand as they all moved back, hoping to put some distance between the fiery storm that had caught them by surprise.

 

“Proper- you all continue to use this word- Yet I cannot help but think you are mocking me. For it was not proper to write to an unwed witch without a formal introduction by her head of house or magical guardian in society. It was not proper to request- No demand—my presence alone at your ancestral manor. It was not proper to hold this meeting-to offer the sponsorship you dangle in front of me alone. Furthermore, it was not proper to be interrogated- to have compulsion potions slipped into my tea to make me more amenable to your suggestions. You invite me here under falsity and secrecy, and you think you can lecture me on what is proper? What our roles are? On what my place should be?” She hissed as she came to a stop. They were now in opposite positions; she stood where they once sat.

 

“Everything you have done reeks of a slight against my house- while it may be new, and it may be less refined in some areas, it is still MY house. I returned the slight- coming to you all under falsity and secret, but now I stand before you unveiled. I will warn you just this once: Sirius is MY friend, and you are his family. That was enough for me to play along with this ruse you offered, to ignore the surmounting slights you made against me and my house.”

 

She snapped her fingers- the wands that had danced behind her sprung forward, each one returning to the witch or wizard she had claimed it from. Although they had their wands returned, the oppressive force of her burning magic intensified.

 

“For as long as I choose- Sirius will remain my friend-propriety or not. For as long as he chooses, I will remain his- and only if he chooses without force or coercion will our connection end. Even if I have to stand at his side and raze a Most Ancient and Noble house to the ground.” She glared directly at Walburga and Orion.

 

Stunned- all of them were speechless as this tiny witch threatened them. Arcturus’s heart was beating wildly as he felt the power in her words. In her vow.

 

“Take your time, mull over my words- my threat—and when you are ready, invite me again. Properly this time. Lolly Dear.” She sneered.

 

With a startling pop, an elegantly dressed house-elf appeared at her side. She smiled brightly- all the fierce anger and harsh features melted as she gazed upon the elf. She knelt down, placing herself nearly eye level with Lolly.

 

“Thank you for coming- for helping me. I know you were probably busy working- but I think it’s time I go home.” Her voice now was sweet and enchanting.

 

“I am always happy to help, Miss Hermione.”

 

Lolly reached out, gently taking her hand. Hermione stood to her full height once more. She left them with one last thing to think on.

 

“I know- I know what you tried to do to him- I ripped that ugly, twisted magic right out of him- If I ever find it again, if you ever harm him again like that- Well, he will be more than the heir by the time I’m done. Good day.”

 

She vanished from the conservatory.

 

June 24th, 1973, Alphard Black’s Estate- Wales 12:45 pm

 

Sirius was lazing about, sprawled against the lush grass in his uncle’s manicured, luxurious main yard- music blasting through his ears from the stereobolt he had brought. He was listening for the fourth time to the song “Aint no woman like the one I got” by another Muggle band Hermione thought he might enjoy. A bag of different cassettes rested by his side- he had been through several already. His mouth moved along to the words as his head bobbed. His hands came up to mimic the rhythm of the drums- to match the rhythm of the beat. He was partly shaded from the summer sun as the towering form of an old willow crept over him- he would recast his cooling charm every time the song would end, bathing his body in a tingling chill- it was a pure pleasure. His stomach full from the decadent lunch, his mind and soul nourished by the tiny pieces of wonder Hermione had gifted him, and his company- His favorite uncle—situated further under the willows shade, his favorite brother sat with his uncle, regaling him with the secret adventures he had been on. The only way this day could be better was if Hermione was at his side.

 

Suddenly his secluded world was torn apart as he was harshly ripped upward from his supine form on the ground, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as anxiety and fear rushed through him- his mother was dragging him up, her nails tearing at his shirt as Orion and Arcturus were trying to hold her back, their words—their yelling—muffled by the song still blasting in his ears. He could see the disgruntled and fearful look of his uncle as he yelled- hands waving as he held back Regulus. He tried to push his mother’s hands away, but she was too strong, her magic just as wild as she ripped open his shirt. She was feral as she pushed back the right side of his shirt. He was so confused- so perplexed—as she instantly stopped, dropping him, shrinking back as if she had been burned. Arcturus and Orion stared intently at where his scar should be- eyes trembling in shock. He finally ripped the headphones off his head- instead of the catchy beat of the Four Tops, his ears were filled with the hysterical- yet joyful sobbing of his mother. She slowly crept forward; he curbed the instinct to flinch back from her as she gently pushed his shirt back one more time. His chest rapidly rising and falling as he struggled to calm his breathing. Her long, pale, shivering fingers, the ones he was so used to causing him pain, gently traced the pale, barely noticeable scar on his shoulder. She pulled back, this time with more sobs as she smiled, bringing both hands up to her mouth, trying to hold back her cries, to hold back the rush of laughter that bubbled up. She got up and rushed into his father’s arms- Orion pulled her close, tearing her away from where he was lying as he whispered in her ear.

 

Arcturus stared in awe at his confused grandson as he sat, shirt torn apart, in the shade of the willow. He sat up, moving his form into the summer sun. It was gone- nearly gone, the ugly twisted scar that even he could not heal- no potion or spell could heal. All that was left was smooth skin and a whisper of the violence that had occurred. Arcturus couldn’t help but notice the subtle golden sheen of his scar as Sirius rose further into the light.

 

Merlin, help him.

 

June 24th, 1973, Evan’s House Evening

 

Hermione had returned home in a flurry of rage and disbelief- she knew, knew that his family was trying. The fact that she was invited at all was an insane improvement from her past life- but as she remembered the letters words, as she took in their disregard and veiled condescension, she raged. She kept seeing him- seeing Sirius as he cried in her arms, torn and weary from the violence his mother had caused. The same woman who dared to lecture her. She had never cast an unforgivable, but she had felt it in that moment- the desire to curse her. To curse all of them for having a hand in his torture. It didn’t help that her memories resurfaced of the skinny, beaten, and ragged form of an older Sirius, drunk- crying as he listened to his mother’s portrait shriek out slurs and vile insults all while he tried to grieve over his friend’s untimely death. His face, his tears, and the pain that she felt oozing out of his body that day had struck her all at once.

 

They had looked down on her, looked down on her family by trying to circumvent proper introductions- something she knew they did because her parents were muggles- because she was a young Muggle-born who wouldn’t know any better. A part of her was just as mad at herself as she was at them- because Hermione Granger would have never known how insulting it was-she had never realized how much other witches and wizards disregarded her in every action they took in her past life.

 

Even the ones that championed around her- that held her on a pedestal while insulting her with their words, their actions, and their inactions.

 

She had been used as a political and social prop for performative crusaders of justice.

 

It was vile- so much for the title of brightest witch of her age. She couldn’t even register true friend from foe. Couldn’t even see that they didn’t really want change, didn’t really want to improve the wizarding world as she had- they just wanted slightly better conditions in the now so they could continue living exactly as they had always lived.

 

It made so much more sense- why the fate of the wizarding world had once fallen on the shoulders of three barely of-age teenagers.

 

She paced her room as she slowly undressed from the formal clothing she was in. Her mother had been a godsend, allowing her to wear her jewelry and an old dress she had. Petunia and Lily had helped with her hair and braiding the flowers into her curls- she had told them she was going to a fancy tea at the community center a town over. They had rushed to help her. Her lovely father had even driven her out- she had felt horrible that she had lied to them when she unwrapped the portkey the Blacks had sent and disappeared.

 

Now she tried to calm her raging magic, calm her harsh breaths as she slowly unraveled.

 

It had taken her a while, but she eventually calmed down enough that she felt she could mask what she needed to. Occlumency helped so much. She made a note in her journal to send sweets to Lolly- the lovely Hogwarts house-elf had volunteered so readily when she had asked them for help on a secret mission. She had taken a gamble- most blood purist families looked down on anyone or any creature that wasn’t “pure”- but she had learned from Riddle- from the Malfoys that it was a weakness. A vulnerability in most ancestral wards- they were never augmented to consider elves- specifically unknown elves. Their shallow, narrow minds were unable and unwilling to comprehend the complexity of how elf magic worked.

 

She had gambled and won- she had left on her own terms, just as she wanted. She was slightly worried now about Sirius- she had threatened them, but it was with the knowledge that she had tricked him into wearing her protection before they had left the train at the end of the semester- protection she had made herself. It was a simple woven band on his wrist- charmed to protect him if curses, hexes, or the like were cast his way. Runes carved so small they were barely noticeable in the leather it was made from. It had an alert function- she’d know the moment they failed to take her warning seriously. Of course he had been overjoyed as he asked her to tie it on his wrist.

 

She didn’t like tricking him- didn’t like withholding information from him—but she had rationalized it was for the best this way. She hoped he wouldn’t be too upset if it ever went off. She stared into the growing collection of flowers in the vase next to her bed- she was doing it for him, doing this for a better future, doing what needed to be done.

 

By the time dinner had come, she was relaxed. Mind made up, she placed a false smile on her face and joined her family for dinner. She smiled when she needed to, laughed in all the right places, and told the stories she needed to tell as she finished her meal.

 

Only when she heard her mother’s surprised gasp and her father’s confused grunt did the happy mask become real.

 

There on the owl post her father had built on the back patio was the large, intimidating form of Oriel. His eyes were glowing in the dusk light as his feathered form was illuminated by the waning sun.

 

The owl extended his leg to her mother. She came back inside, a Black Letter in her hand.

 

She truly smiled, satisfaction burning in her blood as her mother read out loud the formal invitation her family received from one -

 

Arcturus Octan Black III

Patriarch of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.

Chapter 25: I Can See Clearly Now

Summary:

Sometimes territories are disputed, and land is fought over- reconciliation, communication, and understanding can keep you safe from the beginnings of war.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, This is my first fanfic

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“It’s an universal law— intolerance is the first sign of an inadequate education. An ill-educated person behaves with arrogant impatience, whereas truly profound education breeds humility.”― Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn

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June 26th, 1973 Evan’s Home

 

Nestled in the quiet comfort of their modest home, Louis and Rose sat curiously on their living room couch- knees and shoulders touching as they leaned into each other’s warmth, whispering their suspicions- their concerns as they waited for their youngest daughter to appear. The other girls were spending the day at the Princes; Lily had wanted to show Petunia some potions she and Severus were working on- they had both noticed how the idea only came up after a subtle suggestion from Hermione at the dinner table. Shortly after the plans were confirmed, Hermione had requested a meeting with them.

 

“My money’s on a boy.- She came back so flustered from that tea party she went to the other day.” Rose whispered as she looked around their living room. There was a small opening on the bookshelf that caught her attention. Her mind quickly cataloging what new pictures and art she could use to close the gap. The coffee table had been cleared of the normal collection it held, and a chair was repositioned to sit in front of them.

 

“No- No way! Mia? Lily, or even Petunia and I might agree, but my lovely girl is far more interested in books than boys. I’d wager this is some new skill she wants to sell us on.”

 

Louis grunted, slightly pale at the thought that any of his daughters were possibly interested in boys- he wasn’t ready for that. He picked nervously at the single unraveling thread on his jumper. Rose gently slapped his hand away as she pulled his sleeve over to pick at the same thread he had. He just smiled as he watched her start to check for any other strays.

 

“Oh, come on- You know she’d just announce that she’s doing whatever it was like it was fact instead of a request, dropping it into conversation over something small- This, Louis dear, she asked for our time-asked formally at that- in a letter! You know she’s been a wild card. Is the biggest one out of the bunch- it has to be about a boy.” Rose argued.

 

They heard a soft squeak from the hall- Hermione stood tall, dressed professionally in a white long-sleeved shirt that was tucked into a black pencil skirt. She had skillfully done her hair and makeup, even donning small black kitten heels- yet a deep blush painted her cheeks as she had heard parts of their whispered conversation. Louis couldn’t help but notice she looked so much more mature than he remembered. Sadness hit him all at once- his baby was growing up. Rose, however, noticed the thick black binder she tightly clutched in her arms, her interest soaring as to what her young girl could possibly want to talk about. They both smiled at her as they waited. Hermione, still blushing, walked into the living room, coming to sit at the chair she had set up on the other side of the coffee table. Slowly and meticulously she set the black binder down, opening it and pulling out several sets of documents. She handed one copy to her father and another copy to her mother. Once they were distributed, she sat up in her chair- shoulders back, spine straight—as she confidently launched into the most gobsmacking topic.

 

“Thank you for agreeing to hear me out- What I’ve handed you are the return reports on the stock trading I’ve been doing. I know Papa has seen a bit of the information, but I’d like you both to see where we are currently. Please turn to page 6- Its the first page after the glossary.”

 

They both just gawked at her in silence before following her direction- they both paled as they took in the totals on the page. Her father choked on his cough as he clutched the papers. One hand coming up to pat his chest before returning to hold the report.

 

“Mia love- this, this is a joke, right?” Rose stuttered as her eyes reread the page.

 

“No, I assure you it’s very real. If you can turn the next page, you’ll see a breakdown of the investments and a diagram showing the projected growth for the next 6 months.” Hermione tutted nonchalantly.

 

“But- how? I mean, I know I saw the first reports, but it was only a few hundred pounds in gains then.” Louis questioned, still pale and sitting in disbelief. Rose, still stunned by the numbers, had barely moved in her seat. She would look to the papers and then back to Hermione’s face, scrutinizing both as she tried to absorb the conversation happening around her.

 

“Oh, that’s actually pages 20-25; it’s the collection of growth reports and market indicators.”

 

“Oh, oh, of course- makes complete sense, love.” Louis’s eyebrows pinched together as he shakily turned to the back pages. Confusion took over his face as he tried to piece together the jargon and numbers on the pages.

 

“Yes, if you turn to page seven, it’ll show you which investments I’ve sold and collected on- money already sitting in the bank.” Hermione stated as she waited for them to turn to the correct pages, her father ghostly white as he read the numbers, his hand shaking as he wiped sweat that had started to collect on his brow. Rose tried to muffle the sound of her sharp intake- she was unsuccessful as she dropped the papers into her lap.

 

“Mia, love, are you saying you have two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sitting in your bank account right now?”

 

Rose questioned, her head shaking back and forth- her mind and body twitching, unable to comprehend. Her hand moved to find Louis’s; once her hand found his, she gripped it tightly, knuckles turning white from the pressure.

 

“Yes, Mama, that’s why I wanted to have this talk with you both. There is a reason why I made such aggressive moves with the money you saved for me.”

 

Hermione tensed, her anxiety rising as she decided to occlude. Once the rush of emotions had been numbed, she set her papers down and moved to the next stack held within her binder. Handing them off before taking a deep breath. She was taking a gamble once again- trusting her parents with the kind of information she would have taken to the grave with the Grangers. She studied her parents faces, studied the small microexpressions morphing from disbelief and shock to anger and sadness. To disgust and fear. The last was resignation.

 

“That is the current state of the wizarding world- Although consensus is that the society as a whole is becoming more tolerant of witches like me and Lily and others like Severus- there is still a collection of wizards and witches who are violently against our integration. I was able to place some small protections on our house before I left for Hogwarts, but they are not strong enough to stand up to the kind of force a Death Eater would bring.”

 

They were silent as they listened.

 

“Severus and his mother are now with the Princes- from what I have read, they are an older family, which means their home- their name—has much stronger protections than ours. I want to use this money, to move our family into a mixed wizarding community. I already inquired with the ministry, and we cannot hire another wizard to ward our home in the way it needs because we are, in their words, “too Muggle.” I cannot even hire them without the ministry knowing because of the trace on Lily’s and my wands. Any new magic will trigger an alert for them here.”

 

She leaned forward, pulling more papers out and handing them to her parents once more. They seemed hesitant to accept them but did in the end.

 

“These are some of the homes and communities I had a wizarding agent get together. All of these properties have homes that have existing wards we can use and add too- protection and discretion were two of my requirements; however, I had him choose different styles since I didn’t know which you guys would like the most. Some of the properties even come with a house-elf or two, although if you choose one with one, I’d request we free them and pay them instead of their current servitude. The added benefit would be that Lily and I could also practice our magic at home with one of these residences. They have much more lax restrictions in communities like this.”

 

Hermione sucked in a breath after rambling, pausing to allow her parents time to take in all the information she provided. Shuffling nervously in her chair, she picked at the rough fabric of the cushion she was on. Layer after layer she built up the walls in her mind, fortifying her growing unease behind thick barricades.

 

“My flower- Are..are you in danger? Are we in danger?”

 

Hermione closed her eyes; her father was sharp, sharp enough to quickly read between the lines-his voice was low and cautious, but the soft, comforting concern in the tilt of his voice grounded her.

 

“Yes- much more than ever before- and I’m so sorry for it.”

 

“Whoa, whoa- wait why would you need to be sorry, love?” He gasped.

“Yes sweetie, this- this is impressive, what you’ve done in such little time.” Rose added.

 

“But I’ve placed a larger target on our backs- the invitation we received from the Black family it’s a double-edged sword.”

 

Louis leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs, his hand still tightly holding Rose’s.

 

“What do you mean, love? Are they a bad family? Like the ones behind the attacks?” He questioned his eyes, sharp as he watched Hermione’s expression.

 

“They used to be, well, a faction of them used to be; there are still a few branches on the tree that are an active threat. I made friends with their heir, Sirius, and the invitation is to allow the families to get to know each other. They’ve done it with his other friends as well- yet because they are an important family in the wizarding world, mainly a pureblood family, that makes them a large target for retaliation by the groups mentioned-by association, it increases the threat we already had.” Her voice weaved truth and lies as her heart squeezed; everything in her wanted to take back the words as soon as they left her mouth.

 

“Darling, you should never apologize for making a friend or breaking barriers- we’ll support you no matter what.” Rose uttered.

They once again sat silently, conversing now in soft gazes and measured gestures as they turned to each other. Her father was the first to pull away, the first to view her- an unreadable expression on his face.

 

 

“Thank you for telling us all of this, Mia love, but can you please give your mother and me a moment to speak about all this?”

 

He leaned back, his free hand sweeping out to gesture at the collection of paperwork on the table. Hermione nodded, her face blank as she slowly made her way out of the room. Once they faintly heard her door close, Louis chose to speak.

 

“Bloody Hell.”

“Louis- please.”

 

“Darling, love of my life-I’m going to fucking swear a bit—my 13-year old daughter- who happens to be a witch and apparently a stock savant, just informed us she’s made half a million pounds, and our lives might be in danger from a magical group that’s basically the bastardized love child of the Klu Klux Klan & Nazis.” He belted out through a tight smile. He closed his eyes as he rubbed his temples.

 

“Well, when you put it like that, it does seem a bit swear-worthy, dear.”

Rose waited a moment, eyebrows coming together as she tested the idea out before letting out a very unsure- “Fuck?”

 

Rose clocked his expression as his head sprung up - mouth open, eyes wide and astonished—before she burst into laughter. Louis leaned down to rest his head in his hands as he started to laugh- both of them shaking as they giggled and laughed. The absurdity of the entire day crashing down on them both.

 

“I told you she was a wild card, dear.” Rose hummed as she rubbed his back.

 

“Gods- I almost wish it was boy trouble at this point.” Louis groaned.

 

“Mmm- I mean, it is boy trouble. You didn’t catch that? Heir- Sirius? It just happens to be a boy with a very posh, maybe murderous, racist family, apparently.”

 

Louis groaned louder.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

Hermione paced wildly in her room, her heart beating out of her chest as her mind ran over all the different ways her parents could react. She had stopped occluding the moment she stepped through the entryway to her room, and now she was regretting it. There was a rolling, pinching tickle in the back of her throat; it made her mouth water and made her stomach clench- she felt like she would throw up. What if she had ruined everything? What if her parents decided to pack everyone up and flee? What if they were angry for keeping all of this from them? Why didn’t she just forge what she needed to, like she had done with the Grangers?

 

It didn’t help that they were taking so long; it had been nearly 30 minutes since she left them in the living room- the small alarm clock on her desk was driving her mad as her ears strained to make out what they might be saying - instead of words, all she could hear was the maddening ticking as the stretch of time slowed, taunting her. She was tempted to use wandless magic to eavesdrop, but she wanted to give them privacy- wanted to trust them. She stopped pacing and sat on her bed, kicking off her heels as she huffed and fell back. Closing her eyes as she lay half on her bed, trying to slow her racing mind. It was only a moment before she heard a soft knock on her door- She sat up, hands coming together, her fingers intertwined as she nervously invited them in. Her voice was shrill.

 

There was no anger, no weariness, or lingering confusion on their faces as they made their way into her room. They came to sit beside her, Louis on her left and Rose on her right- Her mother pulled her tightly clenched hands apart, holding one as she placed a paper in the other. Hermione looked down; it was one of the acreage properties in Cotswold. It was a gorgeous cottage, one of her personal favorites that the agent had sent over. It was settled between rolling hills and streams, large enough for her family, but with a large library and basement for potions. Its only negative point was that it came with two house-elves, not just one. Louis lightly tapped his hand against his thigh, smiling at her before he spoke.

 

“My flower, we just wanted to reassure you - we will support you in whatever endeavors you set out on. You and your sister are our guides, our eyes and ears in a world we would have never known- I am a bit miffed as a father to learn you’ve been so concerned all of this time- so concerned you’ve practically strategized escape routes and what essentially amounts to magical safe houses. That’s my job- your mother’s job—to worry and plan for those things. But- I understand you’ll be the one to learn of it first, to know the scale of the threat.” He leaned in to hug her to his side.

 

“In the future, darling, please just let us know once you know- it might have been much easier to process all of this if we had been eased into it. As for moving- the money, it’s what you made. You understand much more than we do on all of this, so we are grateful you want to share it with us- I think your mother had a bit of fun going through the houses. We’ve agreed to move; everything you presented to us made sense. Ultimately we want you girls safe- want you to be able to live and practice just like any other witches. We both have a sneaking suspicion there is more that you need to tell us- so when you’re comfortable, come to us. Just a bit more bite-sized next time, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

She didn’t know if it was the tone of his voice, the warmth of their bodies, or the deep wave of relief that washed through her that caused her to break down into tears. The strong arms around her squeezed tighter, her mother’s gentle hands only held hers more firmly as the other rubbed her back. By the time her tears ended, her sisters had returned home. She felt revitalized yet sore; there was so much that needed to be done.

 

 

June 28th, 1973, Diagon Alley

 

Fabric rushed about, flying through the air, fluttering in a sea of colors and textures- rustling robes mixed with soft sounds of appreciation as Elsa Quant, the head seamstress of Twilfitt and Tattings, circled Lily- eyeing her in some moments with appreciation and in others with dismay as she forced certain color combinations together under her chin. Rose stood beside her, eyes focused as she too tsk’d and awed when certain combinations seemed to make her young daughter shine. Louis sat in a chair in the corner, absorbing the facial cues of all three women with a fervent dedication that would make a devout member of the clergy look weak in their faith- he had trained this skill; it was a matter of life and death in a house with the majority of occupants being women. For if he responded to their inquiries on how it looked, whether it was flattering or not, and got it wrong. Well, he did not want to relive the experience. Petunia was sitting in the chair next to him, flipping through a magical clothing magazine. When she found a style of cut she liked, she would turn to Hermione, who was standing next to her, and grunt. Hermione would look down, eyes narrowed as she judged; there would be a nod of satisfaction, or she would tilt her head, nose crinkling in displeasure. Petunia would dog-ear the corner of all the styles and cuts that passed inspection.

 

Hermione watched, amused, as her family was fitted for wizarding attire; they had spent the last few days following her direction. First, they broke the news to Petunia and Lily that they were moving; both girls had squealed in delight once they saw the potential homes. She didn’t understand it- but her father wanted to continue working, the same for her mother, the few odd jobs that she did. They both told her to continue saving her money; she guessed it was a bit much for them to accept relying on their 13-year old daughter financially. She hadn’t even told them she had set aside money for Lily and Petunia yet- maybe she would hold off indefinitely considering their aversion to it. In the end they had chosen the house they had picked out originally- a lovely cottage-style home in Cotswold. They had signed the papers this morning at Gringotts and arranged for the warder, who would be coming out tomorrow, to set the magical protections and key the house into her and Lily’s magic. The poor house-elves Tibbits and Nox nearly threw themselves into the fire in the fireplace when she handed them clothes; she was able to stop them, thankfully, and explain that they would still be working for her family, just with pay. They had both requested to be bonded anyway- Tibbits bonded to Lily and Nox to her. She still had mixed feelings about it.

 

She had given them all a crash course on basic wizarding etiquette, because they would be meeting the Blacks in just a few days. Hence why they were all now getting fitted for proper attire to wear. She stood quietly now, eyes assessing her family as her mind prepared for battle.

 

July 1st, 1973, Arcturus Black’s Estate, 10:30 am

 

“Sirius, can you please help me?”

 

“Always, Reggie, come here.”

 

Sirius watched as Regulus struggled with his tie for a moment before he walked into the bathroom. Once he was close enough, Sirius gently tilted his chin up before moving to fix the tangled mess Regulus had left behind. As he worked, he couldn’t help but notice how little he still was- his head barely coming to the top of his shoulders. Baby fat still framed his face; his pale white skin had collected friends over the summer, light kisses of freckles across the brow of his nose. His dark black hair, so similar to his own, was cut short to frame and accent his face, to make him look older than he really was. Even his cut of robes today was usually reserved for older boys- yet in his eyes, he still looked like the young child of his memories. Swaddled in formality, in finery, but just a boy in every other way that mattered. His fingers lingered on the tie, its perfect form resting against his slender neck. There was a dark part of him that still lived within his chest, still lingered in the memories of his tortured upbringing, a grim, fanged beast, rabid and wild, ready to bare its teeth, its claws- to savage and tear into all the expectations- the thousands of tiny restraints of formality, of legacy, that had slowly wrapped themselves around his naive brother. His cage, for as long as he could remember, had been lined with threat, with violence and disdain- boundaries built upon thousands of cuts and bruises. Words made to act as chains that bound him to a life he abhorred.

 

But Reggie, sweet Reggie, his jailers knew him well, lined his cage in gilded words- with soft touches and regard, small smiles framed with hints of warmth—all the while slowly whispering poison into his ears, endearing bigotry through pride. What want would a prisoner have if they were happy? If their bellies were full? If their minds were tended? Their hearts were gently cared for? How much more would they endure if they loved their jailers? Loved the cage they’d always known?

 

He masked his spiraling thoughts, smiling as he led Regulus out of the bathroom, out past the working house-elves, through the hallways lined with portraits of centuries of Black ancestors, past the plethora of locked doors containing dark artifacts, dark history, and heinous trophies. Guiding him out and into the light, under the soft rays of sun that warmed the estate’s conservatory.

 

“I wonder who we will be meeting today?” Regulus whispered, his eyes taking in the effort the elves had gone through. Noticing how his parents had taken extra care today- each witch dressed in light, airy colors- of soft pastels and creams. The wizards were dressed in a dark green that looked black until it caught the light.

 

“Who knows? probably some pompous pureblood family we know or don’t know. We’ll say all the right things, say all the wrong things, and watch as they squirm, unable to address it- you know, because of propriety or whatnot.” That got a chuckle out of Regulus.

 

“You think you could show me that balding hex?”

“OF COURSE! It would be my pleasure- My life’s greatest joy.” Sirius grinned devilishly, eyes shining in delight as he rubbed his hands together. He pulled his wand from the inner pocket of his robes and placed it into a more accessible front pocket. He bumped into Regulus before guiding them both to stand next to their father. His eyes scanned his parents, narrowing as he watched his grandmother slowly charm flowers into his mother’s hair. Suspicion and dread rose as his desperate mind couldn’t help but focus in on all the little details. His magic snapped in caution as he noticed his grandfather and his father were both wearing the same flowers pinned to their robes. Regulus complained as his hands tightened on his wrist.

 

“Jeez, Sirius, lighten up.”

 

Were those Olive Blossoms?

 

His mind raced to remember the significance- tiny pinpricks roved his body as his heart fluttered in his chest- he swallowed as he realized. Peace, Reconciliation- Harmony. His fists clenched as he swallowed. Head snapping to take in the grandeur of the conservatory, the new robes, the ceremonial tea set, and the fitted clothes the elves wore. His family all dressed to the nines as they waited on their honored guest. It couldn’t be, could it? There was only one wizard his family stated they were against, only one that he could comprehend his family going to the lengths they would to openly declare their humility, even if it wasn’t through words- The Dark Lord. He bristled as his anger boiled, his mind cursing his family as his eyes quickly took in each of the possible ways he could escape. His hand released its punishing grip on Regulus’s wrist, only to move to his shoulders. If he was right, he would drag both of them into the closest floo.

 

He started to sweat as the charmed clock counted down- each tick bashed against his hearing like a ram, chipping away against his tightly held self-control. His family closed in tighter, each adult stilling as their final touches finished. He felt suffocated- trapped as his father came to stand behind him, as his hands wrapped around his tense shoulders. Green, green flames roared high in the floo; his heart jumped in his chest as his magic shot out.

Familiar warmth flooded him as the anxiety and tension melted, his mind breaking confused as his sun, his goddess, appeared. She stood tall as she raised a dainty hand, vanishing the power from her light blue, form-fitting gown. Her lovely auburn curls were loose yet pinned back by white roses. Her sun-kissed skin glowed as she stepped forward. Her face was enchanting, kissed with light makeup that made her even more beautiful than he remembered. But her eyes- her golden jewels—were cold, narrowed in suspicion. Her body screamed to him of her unease. He tore from his father’s grip, unconsciously pulling Regulus along with him as he rushed to greet her.

 

“Princess? What- What are you doing here?”

He basked in her attention as her eyes landed on his face; there was genuine happiness, warmth, and care as her soft pink lips transformed into a blinding smile.

 

“Siri! What am I doing here? I was invited, silly.”

He flinched as the words registered, his eyes snapping to the white roses in her hair.

 

Peace, Reconcliation- New Beginnings.

 

The windows rattled as a deep, visceral growl escaped his lips, his body acting before his brain could register as he let go of Regulus and stepped in front of her, shielding her form from his family’s view as the words ripped out of his mouth.

 

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO??”

 

He didn’t know when it happened,- when his wand had left his pocket—but he gripped it tightly as he pointed it toward his family, a curse on the tip of his tongue as he glared at each and every one. They jolted from the shock, from the fierceness of his voice, of his anger. His eyes cut into Arcturus’s, his mind picking apart his expression. There was shock there, of course, but also guilt. fucking guilt. It only fueled his ire.

 

“ANSWER ME! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?”

He snarled.

Arcturus was stunned, they all were, his hands coming up to placate him.

 

“Siri-Language.”

It was a soft coo, lit with amusement.

 

Dainty hands came up, running across his side, traveling across his shoulder to pull his arm down. His mind distracted as his head snapped to Hermione, she was smirking, eyes twinkling with merriment as she slowly distracted him, slowly curbed the blinding rage in his blood with the soothing caress of her magic, of her presence.

 

“Siri, really, everything’s okay.”

 

She was still smiling, and he was so confused as she seemed happy, no longer unsure or tense. He looked back to his family; they were the ones now uncomfortable, unsure, and fearful. Her eyes shined as they noticed the corded leather still on his wrist.

 

“I didn’t know you got your pranking abilities from your family? Well, let’s just say we both played a little game, but it’s all better now. Really.”

She pulled him forward, interlocking their arms, leaning behind him a bit to wave at Regulus’s trembling form with her other hand. He briskly walked back to stand at his family’s side.

 

“Wait- I’m just so confused- What happened?” he gaped, his mind grappling with the contradicting emotions and contradictory bodily cues both she and his family gave off.

 

“Tsk tsk, I’ll tell you later, I promise. Please introduce me to your family, properly! Mine will be long shortly, but I felt it was better I come a bit earlier.” He couldn’t help but pick up on the slight inflection in her words. ‘Properly’ bouncing around in his mind as he walked her to his family- he was still tense, still cautious as he walked tilted, his body still just a bit in front of her as he introduced her to his family.

 

“I would like to present my good friend, brightest witch of our age- Hermione Evans of the Most Illustrious and Noble House of Evans.”

She elegantly raised her arm from her side, hand outstretched.

 

Arcturus stepped forward, his normal wall of propriety shaken as he leaned in to take her hand in his, bowing over her hand as he placed a kiss on the back. He stepped back as Orion repeated his gesture. She slowly unwound their arms, everything in him groaning in dissatisfaction- He wanted her close. She curtsied before coming to kiss his grandmother on both cheeks. He nearly fainted in shock as his mother - the monster of his nightmares and waking thoughts—stepped forward, a genuine smile on her face as she greeted Hermione. He expected unforgivables, he expected nails, blood, and slurs. Not curiosity, not hints of warmth and adoration. What the fuck had happened?

 

“We welcome you to Black Estate, Miss Evans, We are honored that you and your family will be joining us today.” It was a tone that slipped from his mother’s lips, one he had never even heard and never thought she was capable of.

 

“It is an honor to be invited properly by members of the most Ancient and Noble House of Black- My family is humbled to be in the presence of such a prominent wizarding family.”

 

Again, ‘Properly’, the word, the tone she used made him want to grind his teeth. There was an edge there. His mother was smiling now, a vicious glee that transformed her face as she trailed her eyes down Hermione’s form. It made him bristle; he didn’t like it- didn’t like the interest his mother held in her.

 

“Of course, and we too are humbled-have learned what an honor it is to be in the presence of a member of the Most Illustrious and Noble House of Evans.”

 

“Of course, it is always refreshing, always a mark of intelligence when one knows their proper roles, some would even say their proper place.”

Her eyes were glowing in the sunlight, smile wide and toothy as she matched his mother’s tone.

 

The sound of the Floo behind them caught their attention; out stepped a tall, broad-shouldered man, arms linked with a lovely red-haired woman - his mind registered, Hermione’s parents. As they stepped forward, Hermione waved her hand in an impressive display of wandless magic and vanished the floo powder from their robes. Just a second after them, her sisters Lily and Petunia stepped out of the floo.

 

His family rushed forward to greet them; he stood back, his arm relinked with Hermione as they both watched from afar. He could feel the satisfaction radiating from her.

 

“Princess.”

“Yes, Siri.”

“What in Merlin’s name happened?”

 

She leaned into his shoulder, head tilting up as she gazed into his eyes. He couldn’t help but return the smile that had blossomed on her face. His body moving to press as much as he could against her side.

 

“An understanding. We came to an understanding.”

Chapter 26: Ma! He's Making Eyes at Me!

Summary:

Honeybees are a necessary part of maintaining any garden, any good gardener can spot the relationship between them.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

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“Life is about trusting your feelings and taking chances, losing and finding happiness, appreciating the memories, learning from the past, and realizing people change.”-Jaimie Alexander

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July 1st, 1973 Arcturus Black’s Estate

 

There comes a time in every father’s life when he learns the inevitable truth, that the collections of his life’s work, the culmination of his legacy- his life—transforms into something less tangible, less controllable. That as a man, one must hope to have passed on the knowledge and skills necessary for his sons to be greater men- to surpass the limits he himself found insurmountable. Yet, Orion Black, once the most sought-after wizard in his year, a man known for the trail of broken hearts he had ravaged before marrying, sat watching his oldest son- his heir-completely fall over his expensive dragon hide boots in an effort to woo a witch that clearly thought his charismatic displays and unashamed attentions were not exactly what they were - declarations of interest. The poor witch had placed him in the most horrific of designations, by his estimations- Good Friend. Many a wand and whiskey glass had been raised in lament for some poor sod time and time again as they failed to scale one of the most difficult walls a man could. For all the charisma, for all the effort, the intelligence, and the social currency a man could wield, nothing actually mattered if the witch he pursued chose to deem him a companion rather than a potential mate. He was embarrassed, for himself and for his son, because the knowing smirk on the witch’s father’s face was demoralizing enough.

 

His eyes shot to his youngest son, Regulus, who was watching intently, composed, and engaged, but he could also see the steady rising of his brows as he, too, watched in complete dismay at his brother’s actions. Orion’s eyes connected with his father’s; they shared a silent conservation- he repressed the desire to groan as he saw him barely holding back his laughter. He didn’t need words or legilimency to understand what his father was thinking. His pinched eyes, the tense twitching of his mouth as his muscles battled to maintain his decorum, and the fact that even his mother barely contained herself as she lifted her napkin to hide her smiles. There were only so many times it could be done without looking odd. Even his lovely wife’s eyebrows had frozen into an impeccable arc; they screamed to him of her amusement- her bewilderment. His son, Sirius Black, the unquestionable source of headaches and raised voices for years, of wild disobedience, sharp wit, and even sharper fire, was reduced to a pliant, airheaded follower. Merlin- maybe they had focused too much on etiquette and leaned too heavily on the knowledge that most marriages were arranged. He picked up his tea, taking a sip as he mentally screamed at the absurdity of the situation. The only saving grace was that they were young; he would at least have time to try to guide his besotted son to victory.

 

Woe is fatherhood.

 

 

July 1st, 1973, Evans Home, Cotswold (Earlier)

 

Louis stood stoically near the fireplace, his mind still trying to come to terms with the fact he would be throwing magical powder that just looked like regular dirt into a lit fire and then willingly walking into the unnaturally green flames it produced- this was in order to transport himself to the ‘used-to-be-maybe-still-a-bit-racist-magicals’ posh garden party. Pinching himself on the thigh, he looked to the excited faces of his wife and daughters and groaned- loudly. None of the parenting books he read so long ago mentioned anything like this—spit-up? Yes. Irregular sleeping cycles? Of course, no-brainer. Learning to regulate emotions? He was an expert at this point. Diffusing tensions and redirecting conflict? By God, the queen’s entire special forces paled in comparison. The indignity of all of this, the icing on the cake, was he was now in this veritable storm of precarious unknown and minor regret because of a BOY. He nearly wept when he had to bite down on his tongue because he noticed, unfortunately, that his lovely daughter lit up like the damn sun when describing one - Sirius Black.

 

His hand ran over the silky texture of his wizarding robes. He surmised that maybe this all wouldn’t be that bad because at least he was comfortable; his lovely wife looked absolutely delectable, something he was certainly going to take advantage of later- What were a few hours of anxiety, repressed disgust, and cautious mingling? From the moment Hermione had decided to blindside them, they had spent it packing, preparing, and strategizing for the new direction their life would take. The cottage they had chosen sat on 30 acres of rolling hills, an amount of land he had never expected to own in his lifetime, nor his children’s; it came with magical greenhouses that looked like normal greenhouses except some of the plants could choose to try and eat you- a library so large that it had made all the lady loves of his life swoon. They had already come together, making list after list of the books they wished to fill it with. He was partial to the study; it was secluded, warm, and thankfully designated just for him by his merciful wife.

 

The only thing he was still getting used to was the creatures called House-elves. It was jarring to be mumbling something to yourself in what you believe is complete solitude only to have the overly helpful buggers respond back. Tibbits and Nox were lovely, though, despite their overpowered spying abilities and questionable clothing choices. They certainly made the most delicious full English he had ever had. Plus, it was incredibly amusing to see his wife try to reason and then verbally fight them on not overworking themselves. There was also the cute pout both she and Hermione got when the creatures guilted them into accepting their care- something that he was learning to anticipate as they skillfully played both women like expert manipulators. Lily and Petunia, they certainly didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth and graciously just accepted the new status quo. Petunia especially loved the idea of working together with them to coordinate and manage the new home; it was something he knew the elves appreciated. The ostentatious alarm clock that had come with the house chirped- Hermione had deeply grimaced at it before setting the time in which they would need to wait before following her. His mind snapped out of his musing as he stepped forward, his arm extending to his beautiful wife- her captivating red hair adorned with roses, her form distracting him in an elegant sage green dress. Once they were intertwined, he took her other hand and gently spun her around. She graced him with a knowing smirk, tilting her head to rest against his chest.

 

“My darling, love of my life, are you ready to be impressed or slightly offended by what appears to be magical royalty?” He smirked as he looked into her eyes, swaying them both back and forth as he waited for her reply.

 

“Mmm, you know, I believe it’s precisely what I wanted to do today- can you believe that?” she teased, pressing further into his embrace. He stopped abruptly, manufactured shock and horror dominating his face, causing her to laugh out loud.

 

“Oh goodness, madness! A shame in one so young and lovely as yourself.” He gently led her body back as his eyes roved over her form.

 

“Me mad?” she scoffed playfully.

“Lucky for you, I find that especially attractive. Now come, let us make our dramatic entrance.” He grinned before pulling her close and lightly smacking her butt. He devoured the blush that graced her cheeks.

 

“Louis!” she admonished, hiding her face in his shoulder as his daughters giggled behind them.

 

He swallowed his unease and nausea down, grabbing the floo powder and throwing it in the fire. He stated more confidently than he felt-

 

“Black Estate-Derbyshire”

 

Louis closed his eyes as he mentally prayed, stepping into the magical green flames, pulling along his wife.

 

He could feel it, a sensation he had never felt before- it was a tender wisp of warmth and curiosity as it pressed against his body, a feeling that bordered on familiarity, yet startlingly unknown. He wondered if it was magic as his eyes opened to the most opulent conservatory he had ever seen- rivaling the countless photos- countless brushstrokes in classical aristocratic paintings he had been blessed to know. It was so unworldly and incomprehensible, that the only explanation his mind would accept was that it was magical. Blooms of flowers, vast stretches of vibrant colors bathed in sunlight as butterflies fluttered about. Tangling stretches of ivy littered with sparking dust from the fairies that peeked out. Elaborate ivory statues, of witches and wizards- of mythical creatures—were scattered about, blending seamlessly with the foliage. A large rock fountain that mimicked a waterfall, as the water splashed and fed into the numerous flower beds. The soothing rhythm of water melded together with the light sounds of a classical tune he could not identify.

 

“My god, it’s gorgeous.” Rose whispered as she fought her growing desire to look around in amazement.

“Yes, yes, it is.” He could barely force out his reply, his hand loosening on her arm.

 

He felt the sensation again as the powder on his robes vanished. Exhaling, he straightened his shoulders as his hazel eyes set upon a group of people that matched their home in the same exquisite opulence. He was never one to take in another man’s attractiveness, but it seemed he was in store for a plethora of new experiences today- for the men standing next to equally gorgeous women seemed to have been pulled from one of his wife’s dark romance covers. Chiseled, fit models, all of them. Bloody Hell. His eyes found his daughter behind them, standing next to arguably the most handsome of the bunch- Good lord, he was rating the attractiveness of a teenage boy. What fucking Outer Limits episode was this?

 

“Jesus Christ.”

“Shit, I know, Rosie, but please let’s not make it more awkward.” Louis grumbled through the false smile plastered on his face. She tried to reassure him as she patted his hand.

 

“Well… I can see why Hermione was smiling while mentioning him.” Rose taunted.

Louis screamed internally.

 

It seemed his lovely, intelligent daughter with a will of steel and an obsession for books still crumbled under the whims of an exceptionally eye-catching cover. Hopefully he was a worthwhile read as well. He could hear the floo behind them as Lily and Petunia stepped through, their dresses of green and blue blending as they pressed tightly into each other, their gasps and exclamations of wonder spurring him forward.

 

“Alright, here we go, into the fire.”

“What fun!” Rose giggled, before adopting a calm, serene face. He adored how quickly she fell into her role.

 

The Black family moved so seamlessly, not an awkward bone in their bodies, not a misplaced step or wayward robe as they quickly closed the distance. Louis, however, noticed the unnatural paleness of their unblemished faces, something more than good breeding and an aversion to the sun could create. He tilted his head, eyes slightly narrowing as he pondered. They seemed shocked- fearful in a way. The older man was the first to speak.

 

“Hello and welcome to our home. My name is Arcturus Octan Black, patriarch of the Black family. At my side is my lovely wife, Melania Black.” He gestured to the stunning woman hanging on his arm. She smiled while her head lowered in a nod. Rose mimicked the action.

 

“We are accompanied by our son, Orion Black, and his wife, Walburga Black, and their sons-” Arcturus smiled as he extended his hand toward Louis. His head shifted, caught off guard as he calculated who was missing before looking back, quickly accounting for Sirius’s form. Louis could see the minute twitch of his left eye before he looked at the other young boy with him.

 

“Regulus Black and his older brother Sirius- who is escorting your enchanting daughter.”

 

Louis took his hand in a firm shake, his smile tight as his eyes also looked behind the man to the boy currently unable to take his eyes off his daughter’s face. Eyes narrowing more.

 

“It is a great pleasure to meet you. We have heard wonderful things about you and your family.”

 

Lie. Lie. Lie.

 

“My name is Louis Evans, and beside me is my breathtaking wife, Rose Evans. We are also accompanied by my other lovely daughters, Petunia Evans and Lily Evans- Hermione, our youngest, you have already met.”

 

They exchanged the proper greetings and pleasantries; it was extraordinarily awkward as they waited for Sirius and Hermione to join them. Each party not attempting to speak before deciding against it. What was the appropriate icebreaker when dealing with a group that most likely cursed your existence a few months or years ago?

 

“Ah, right on time, Father, Mother, I’d like to introduce you to my dear friend Sirius Black.” Hermione had taken her hand to gesture to the boy hanging from her arm.

Lily snorted the moment the word friend passed her mouth. Petunia’s eyebrows raised to her hairline as she gave him a once-over.

 

Hermione was blinding him with her smile and the equally blinding pretty boy she had just led by the collar over to them. Lord, the boy seemed to only move at her direction, eager to keep her attention. He smirked, unable to help how smug he looked when he raised an eyebrow in the boy’s father’s direction. He reached out his hand for the boy to shake.

 

Hermione elbowed him hard when she realized he hadn’t noticed her father’s hand, trying to contain her laughter, while seemingly trying to kick-start the poor boy’s brain once more. Sirius flinched, just slightly, as a dazzling smile took over his face, his eyes still on her.

 

“Yes, Princess?”

 

Hermione blushed, clearing her throat and giving him a look that betrayed her exasperation. Her eyes looked at his face before dragging them swiftly to her father’s hand.

 

He could tell the boy’s bird brain was struggling with conflicting commands, but ultimately some sense and reason prevailed, and he finally turned to acknowledge him. Hermione gave his arm a gentle pat, to which the boy melted against her arm. Training him already, it seemed Louis mused.

 

“Mr. Evans, it is a great honor to finally meet you- Mrs. Evans, aren’t you a vision! I can see where Hermione gets her exceptional beauty from.” He gripped his hand firmly, shaking it with proper force as he winked at his wife. Rose gave him a smile and a hearty chuckle.

 

“Oh, what an honor it is to meet you too, Mr. Black.”

“Please call me Sirius; there are one too many Mr. Blacks here to keep track of.” He grinned.

 

Louis swore he heard a groan coming from his father.

 

The boy leaned into Hermione’s shoulder, looking around him to speak to his other daughters. Louis wondered if it was even possible to separate his and Hermione’s arms or whether he would be coming home with a stage 5 clinger. Was it still considered kidnapping if the supposed victim went along willingly? Most likely with enthusiastic consent.

 

He was dying inside. At least he wasn’t the only one mortified. Mr. Black’s father seemed to be sweating now.

 

“It’s good to finally get to place the face with the name, Miss Petunia. Lovely to meet you! And Lily, dear, good to see you again.” He gave them both a stunning smirk and over-exuberant bow as he placed a kiss on the back of their hands that caused both girls to blush. However, the moment it wasn’t necessary, his cool grey eyes would rush to refocus on Hermione.

 

What a dastardly rogue.

 

“Now that we all have been introduced, let us move to the table; the house-elves have put together a wonderful spread.” Walburga interjected, her eyes briefly falling on Sirius and Hermione before looking back to the rest.

 

“Yes, I think that would be wonderful,” Rose countered, both women sharing a knowing look.

 

“This conservatory is absolutely brilliant.” Lily dared to chime in as she fiddled with the layers of her dress.

“Yes, I’ve never quite seen anything like it,” Petunia added, before pulling Lily’s hand into her own, stopping the nervous gestures she had seen.

 

“Thank you. This is one of the homes that have been in our family for generations- but I’ve been taking particular care of this one. Are you also a fan of gardening? I can’t help but notice the nod to flowers from your names.” This time it was Melania who inquired curiously. The men were silent as they allowed the women to lead the conversation.

 

Rose smiled, her expression wistful as she answered.

“My great-great grandfather started the tradition of naming the daughters in our family after flowers- It was something that my husband and I decided to keep. I noticed your family may share a similar tradition. Arcturus, Orion, Sirius, and Regulus—those are all related to stars or constellations, yes?”

 

“Why yes, clever of you to notice, it is a long-standing Black family tradition. There are many we still follow, but that one is my favorite.” Walburga reflected, her eyes downcast as Orion led her to her seat.

 

“Holding onto traditions can be burdensome- thankfully while our family may not be as long-standing, still we do have a few traditions to pass down- and the opportunity to forge more, ones we can be proud of creating.” Hermione cut in, her eyes falling on Walburga. Sirius finally untangled their arms, his mouth pulling into a frown as the space between them grew, before pulling out her chair and helping her into her seat. He stood tall, with perfect form, as he placed his hands on the back of her chair, his eyes bouncing back and forth between his mother and Hermione.

 

Louis pulled the chair for Rose, before going to help Petunia. Regulus, ever the gentleman, helped Lily with her chair; his eyes, however, focused on his brother and the girl he was orbiting. Once Melania, the last woman standing, was helped into her seat, the men finally moved to sit. Sirius, the only one out of the group who seemed unsatisfied with the distance, scooted his chair closer to Hermione. His family chose to ignore the loud grinding of his chair as he shuffled in his seat- along with his low but noticeable grunt of satisfaction once he was in an acceptable range. Louis held in his laugh as he noticed Rose biting her lip. Lily was trying to zone it out as she stared well above their heads at the charmed lighting. Poor Petunia, she had pressed her lips together tightly, looking to both him and Rose as if asking whether they too saw it. Louis figured Lily might be more immune to these types of antics since she went to school with both of them. Petunia unable to hold it back any longer, covertly brought her hand up to cover her smile- it was brief as she tried to follow the etiquette Hermione had drilled into them over the past few days. It seemed his antics didn’t even faze Hermione.

 

Did this boy lack a single ounce of shame?

 

“Alton,” Arcturus called as he leaned forward to fiddle with the button on the end of his robe sleeve.

A sharply dressed house-elf popped next to the table, bowing lowly as he waited on a command.

 

“The first course, if you would.” Melania directed, her voice light but weighted in expectation. Alton snapped his fingers, each cup filled with a delicious-smelling tea as delectable finger foods appeared on the main table. Sirius rushed to fill Hermione’s plate with all of her favorite foods. Louis noticed how his food service only extended to his daughter, not even the women of his family.

 

“Once again, we thank you for joining us today. Sirius, as you know, is the heir to our family, and we have been slowly reaching out to those in his core associations to make introductions and build bridges and rapport between each house. To come to a- an understanding, if you will.” Arcturus informed them, his smile perfect as he steered the conversation.

 

“Yes, our daughters Lily and Hermione have been our guide through this new transition into wizarding culture- although it is very similar to what we know already.” Louis responded; there was an edge to his voice.

 

“Yes, similar but not completely the same.” Walburga uttered before flashing them a sugary smile.

“Oh, from what I’ve seen, it’s nothing too complicated to understand or pick up on.” Rose tutted as she elegantly picked up her cup, taking a sip before humming.

 

“What a delightful cup of tea- It reminds me of the brand my grandmother used to use.”

 

“Yes, a bit old-fashioned, but it is still a welcome choice if considered at all.” Hermione added as she tapped her finger on the cup held in her hand. Her lips formed a sweet smile back, eyes crinkling as she stared down Walburga.

 

“Ah yes, considering choices, we also invited you all here today to offer some- We would like to extend an offer, a sponsorship, to your daughters. Just some classes and guidance they may not normally have on the wizarding world and its traditions.” Melania interrupted, trying to cool the rising tension she felt growing.

 

“And by daughters do you mean-?”

Rose’s eyes tracked all three of her daughters faces before lifting a brow.

 

“Yes, this extends to all of your daughters. Miss Petunia is the oldest and would have additional courses on how to guide her younger sisters in certain social situations.”

Melania informed as she folded a napkin in her lap, smiling genuinely at all three girls. Petunia’s eyes rounded, and a wide smile graced her face. Lily leaned into her shoulder, trying to suppress the excitement she felt as well.

 

“And, should we accept- would we also be able to attend, to oversee what exactly is being taught to our daughters?” Louis questioned as he leaned back in his chair, hands coming together on his chest. He understood that it was a different culture; he could reason that they really didn’t know this new world well, but he did not like the implication that they were ignorant nor that his daughters may not know how to comport themselves. Knowing this family’s history, his mind immediately soured on the gesture.

 

“Why, of course, everything would be arranged by you: what times, what aspects of the curriculum we present will be taught, whether the tutors are a good fit- we will just be providing the individuals and guidance on what we know is prudent.” Arcturus stated.

 

Louis looked to Rose, small movements, little twitches of eyebrows, soft movements of lips and cheeks, the expression of hundreds of unspoken words passing through their eyes before Louis turned them into spoken words.

 

“Thank you; that is a very generous offer. We’d love to see some samples of what it might include before making any concrete decisions, but we understand what an honor it is to be offered this- especially from a family like yours.”

Petunia and Lily pouted from the sidelines.

 

“That is all that we can hope for. Even if you decide against it, it seems you already have very accomplished daughters, two of the top two witches of their year, and from what I’ve learned, the oldest is in the top 5% of her classes?” Melania inquired. Louis’s shoulders untensed; she sounded genuine in her praises.

 

“Yes, we are quite proud of all of our daughters accomplishments. Hermione did mention your grandson making the quidditch team this years- something that’s highly sought after?” Rose tried to bridge the gap.

 

“Hmm, yes, a reserve for his house’s team.” Walburga informed, after dabbing her lips, a hint of disdain in her tone.

 

“Ah, a sportsman.” Louis murmured as he helped himself to a delicious-looking triangle sandwich.

 

“Quidditch is one of the top sports in the magical world; it’s quite an accomplishment to be acknowledged. However, Sirius seems more creative in his uses of his intelligence. He’s one of the best in transfiguration, something that many witches and wizards struggle with.” Hermione quipped, unable to allow his mother to demean him, although her mouth pinched together as she held back a laugh. Sirius was resting his head on his palm, face turned completely to her as he tried to sneak a tug on one of her curls. She simply slapped his hand away, but he quickly changed tactics and tried for a curl hanging toward the back of her chair. He yelped when she pinched him.

 

Orion scoffed, brows creased as he watched his son.

“Yes, his head of house is always so… appreciative of the products of his creativeness.”

 

Lily couldn’t hold back her giggle, the force of her body nearly shaking the table as she quickly tried to mask it.

 

“Sirius dear, why don’t you take these lovely ladies for a tour of the conservatory? Regulus, you as well.” Walburga suggested, but the sharp smile on her face and embedded into her tone left no room for argument. Sirius jumped up, to help Hermione out of her chair, head tilting as he tried to refocus himself, lost to the direction of the conversation but knowing it was time to give the adults some privacy. Eventually the children left, Sirius excitedly gesturing to certain sculptures or plants in dramatic flair. Once alone, Alton reappeared, snapping his fingers to take away the finger foods and in their place provide an assortment of desserts. Louis could practically feel the exasperation oozing from Sirius’s family. He was their very own wild card, it seemed- something he could commiserate with. Oh no. His mind raced as it fed him increasingly more outrageous scenarios that Sirius and Hermione could find themselves in. Was there such a thing as bonding out of jail in the wizarding world? If they did, would he or his wife be receiving a floo call instead? Thankfully they were young, and he had more time to guide his stubborn daughter.

 

Woe is fatherhood.

 

“Ah, Sirius mentioned a specific Muggle dessert you all enjoyed. Isn’t that right, Alton?” Melania cooed, completely breaking him of his panicky thoughts.

 

“Yes, mistress, Alton had much fun figuring out the new recipe.” the little elf beamed, his ears waving back and forth.

 

Louis nearly choked. Rose simply smiled at her plate before looking toward the group of children. Eyes sparkling, face soft as she uttered-

 

“Oh dear, this is lovely, but really Hermione is the only one who tends to eat this dish in particular- it’s a bit too sweet for everyone else. Try it, and you’ll see what I mean.”

 

Confusion swarmed the faces of adults at the table; one by one, they each sampled the dish. Eyes coming to an understanding.

 

Louis stared down at his plate; thereupon sat the most decadent slice of Victoria Sponge cake he had ever seen. His eyes followed his wife’s to the unmistakable connection growing among the flowers.

 

It was entirely too sweet for anyone else.

Notes:

Thank you for all the wonderful comments once again! I am just amazed every day. Thank you for reading my story.
I really love music, and finding all the titles for the chapters has been a blast. I have mentioned it before, but this time I've just put them all on a Spotify list if you're all curious. They really do set the theme or mood for each chapter. Also, I've gotten two remarks about the main dialogue being in italics. I know they really aren't supposed to be, but I've been doing it just because I like how it looks, how it breaks up things. Please let me know if it's too distracting; I'd rather change something like that than have it affect everyone's reading experience.

Also, for everyone who's new, I generally post M-F every other day. If I can, I'll post more.

Thank you guys again!
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ygUR2KMbSvQOla2rIN2Lw?si=8nNBSH1VSImyn0fnx4DSzQ (the chapter music)

Chapter 27: One Bad Apple

Summary:

A Gardener knows just how quickly one bad apple can spoil the bunch.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; this is my first fanfic.

- This chapter will look a little different as I go back and correct all the dialogue.

TW: Assault

---

“I think people would be happier if they admitted things more often. In a sense we are all prisoners of some memory, or fear, or disappointment - we are all defined by something we can’t change.”

― Simon Van Booy

---

 

September 1st, 1973, Hogwarts, 7:23pm

 

SLYTHERIN

 

SLYTHERIN

 

SLYTHERIN!

 

It was visceral, the sound screeching between his ears, bouncing and colliding against the fragile connections of his sanity, ripping and tearing apart the spongy flesh of his heart, eviscerating his mind, and branding his soul. Screaming now filled his ears, harmonizing in one horrific symphony- An orchestra of betrayal as goblets exploded around him, rage hot and deep boiling his blood as the word echoed in his mind. It taunted him with the wounds of his past, with words uttered by beasts: “I warned you, Sirius, I warned you.” Tortured him with sweet memories, sweet summers beneath the shade- hidden adventures whispered through boyish lips, delivered through boyish whims. A collection of lies that only seemed to compound, that seemed to have been uttered into existence in order to land the knife faster and deeper within his chest. The mind was his worst enemy as it conjured an image of a thousand decomposing black hands rising from the turbulent waters of his misery, clawing and tearing into a crying figure- down, down they dragged him. Snuffing out a life that had only begun, a name on an old tapestry fading- a life that belonged to HIM. His magic rushed to punish, to spread the devastation and the incomprehensible shame that tangled in the blackened soup of his emotions. Hot metallic liquid filled his mouth-bitter and sharp, it only fueled his rage, feeding off the pain-a lifeblood of disappointment.

 

WHY?

 

He could see it, practically taste it on his tongue—the fear and confusion that oozed from Regulus. He could see it in the shaking of his hands, the paleness of his skin, the way he curled his body-the way he edged behind the form shielding him from his wrath- their cool grey eyes connecting, one hopeful and the other burning. She must have tainted him, whispering her poisonous words and injecting him with her corrosive thoughts, guiding him with her blackened hands. Spoiled rotten- Putrid from the inside while the false exterior tightly clutched to what little vitality it had left. How long would it take for the spoilage to spread? To see it clearly from an exterior that could not be hidden? To accept its fate when surrounded by equally rotten fruit?

 

He could stand it no more.

 

His hands trembled as they curled into fists, his eyes shaking as he dragged them over the faces of those around him. Did they not see it? Or were they just not as foolish as him to expect anything better from a sullied name like Black? James was speaking, his words silent in his ears. Remus was pulling against his form, his touch cold and irritating as teachers rushed to contain the violent magic, to find its source. They were scrambling now, students rushing to flee the great hall- ickle firsties grasping at robes trying to find shelter in a storm they could not see. He could feel them- the piercing eyes, the judgment, the fear. How dare they? A thousand minds, a thousand mouths, all breathing life into a single phrase.

 

Of course, he is a Black isn’t he?

 

Shards of glass, of porcelain, and of wood soared through the air, clipping his cheek, his hands, and his chest. Good. It stung in the most delicious way. Good, it was what he deserved.

 

He ripped his arms from Remus’s grasp, the faces of his friends blurred as he stood slowly in the chaos, thousands of years of Black etiquette ingrained into his every muscle executed as it guided his body like a marionette. He fixed his robes, wiped the blood from his face, smoothed his wayward curls, and turned his back on his house as his feet moved swiftly, one step in front of the other, as he left the Great Hall.

 

It was cold, so cold as he made his way through the castle, the haunting screaming in his mind eerily silent as ice frosted over his thoughts, spread through his veins, and slowly numbed his body. There was a tiny warmth still radiating in his chest, fighting against the darkness he welcomed. Steps, hundreds, then thousands, the harsh burning of his thighs drove him forward, the aching pain in his side filled his mind instead, his cheeks sore from the salty tears that had been roughly brushed away- eyes stinging, unfocused as he found himself in the astronomy tower.

 

He moved to sit along the edge, his eyes closing as the harsh wind beat against his form- his hair tangling and whipping along his face, his robes fluttering out, far past the barrier holding him in- thousands of stars shined down upon him as he stewed in his disappointment, his anger, and his shame. At least under the vastness of the night sky his misery seemed so small in comparison- it seemed less powerful than it felt, and so he waited and waited and waited until it stretched and spread, diffusing outward until the pain became as distant as the stars he hid under.

 

He couldn’t help but feel like a failure.

 

It was so sharp, the creaking of the steps, the soft sigh of relief, the hot burning touch against the iciness of his hands, the gentle sting of warm magic that began to thaw his form. He welcomed it, yet a small part of himself wished to fight it, to punish himself longer. His heart, unfrozen, beat painfully in his chest; his body, so numb, agonized as thousands of nerves came alive once more- his mind breaking as his emotions spilled forth. He fell, fell swiftly, fell softly into an embrace that made him weep.

 

“It’s okay, Sirius, everything will be okay.” He scoffed as he wiped his snot and tears and scoffed as he burrowed deeper into Hermione’s arms. Yet, he was soothed, not because of her magic, not because of her embrace, but because of the absolute sureness in her voice. She spoke as if there was no other path, spoke as if the future bent to her words, and he clung to that. She was whispering, chanting as the weight of her magic rolled across him, healing the small cuts littered on his alabaster skin, vanishing the evidence of his wrath.

 

“Why? I must have failed him, must not have done enough,” his lips trembled as he voiced his fears, through chapped vessels from the wind.

 

“You’ve done enough; you haven’t failed, Siri.”

 

“Yet, he’s Slytherin.”

      “Yet, he is Slytherin.”

 

He fell, and he fell. His head rested in her lap as he pulled her closer, pressing his face into her stomach as his hands tightly clung to her robes. She placed one hand on his back, rubbing lightly against his tensing muscles, and the other ran through his hair, gently, methodically moving as she tried to tame the devastation he had wrought.

 

“I just want to know why…”

‘I can tell you, if you like? A sweet story.”

 

He was silent, so silent for so long before he nodded his head.

 

“There once was a lion, born underneath the stars in a den of vipers, borne from a mythical chimera and a large venomous black-scaled viper. The lion didn’t know it was a lion, although the chimera and the viper did. Years upon years the chimera whispered in its ear to hate the way it walked like it did, to hate the fur that covered it, and to hide the claws it bore. To force it to mimic other vipers, other chimeras. But it was a lion, and a lion cannot change what it is. Then a serpent was born; his makers celebrated. Yet as the years went on, the chimera saw that the serpent complained of its lack of fur, its lack of legs, and its lack of claws. For it had grown in the shade of a lion, beneath its paws, beside it in every step it took. It longed, to be just as wild and as different as the lion.”

 

She paused, taking in the weariness on Sirius’s face.

 

“But it was a serpent, and a serpent cannot change what it is.”

 

There was a small sniffle from Sirius.

 

“But the lion loved the serpent, his brother, and the serpent loved his brother, the lion. For although the chimera bore down on the lion, filling him with distrust and hate, he never lost his love. And for all that the serpent was and was not, for all the chimera’s efforts, he never lost his love for the lion. What they didn’t know was that the lion had scales, hidden deep beneath his fur, and the serpent had the same heart, the same spirit deep inside, as the lion. For they were both children of the chimera and the viper, both born beneath starry skies.”

 

She took her hand from his back and placed it on his cheek. He closed his eyes tightly as his head leaned toward her palm; she guided his face to look at her.

 

“But neither the lion nor the serpent was a chimera, nor were they venomous vipers. While the lion had found a pride and the serpent a den, they would always be brothers, always more and less like each other than their makers.”

 

She stared down at him, eyes trying to relay what she so desperately knew—how brave and how selfless his brother could be- had been. To remind him that there was still goodness even in a den of snakes. That humanity and understanding only came from being open, being receptive to the similarities and differences we all shared. Grey eyes mapped her face, observed her pinched brows and wide eyes- his body felt the sincerity of her words, the pureness of her magic as it warmed him to his core. The wind had finally calmed.

 

“Princess?”

“Yes, Siri?”

 

“You’re kind of shit at stories- that wasn’t sweet at all!’

 

Hermione’s mouth dropped open; she pinched his side gently as she huffed. He let out a broken chuckle; it forced itself from his lips, evolving into a deep barking laugh as he noticed her shocked expression- her sweet laugh joined his as they held each other under the stars. He sat up, arms winding tightly against his ribs as he tried to force himself to stop- wheezing between each laugh. Eventually they slowed, eventually his tears dried- his hands reached for hers, entwining them tightly as he pulled her into his side.

 

“I’ve acted a bit like a tosser, haven’t I?”

“Mmm, well, that all depends on whether you plan to come with me downstairs and apologize to your brother- to everyone.”

 

“I don’t think I’m strong enough for that, princess.”

She pushed against him.

‘Well, no worries, since I do have the strength to help you. I could just imperious you if you feel you need a heavier hand.” She twirled her wand, eyes teasing yet firm. He wondered- how much of her statement was a jest?

 

This time he pinched her side lightly, causing her to squeak before laughing.

 

“Tsk tsk, little Miss Dark Witch. Come- up, up. I guess it’s time I have to do my mistress’s bidding.”

 

His legs quivered as he slowly rose, his free hand straining against the balcony railing as he forced himself up, gently guiding her with him. His thumb rubbing against their hands, he was shocked at how icy her skin was. His mind now able to think, to reason, he pulled his wand and cast a warming charm on her. Smiling at the softness on her face. He put his wand away before bringing their joined hands to his face, softly kissing her pinky- his mouth whispering his gratitude. Cool grey eyes burned as they stared into gold.

 

“Thank you- thank you, Princess.”

 

 

When they had finally joined the others, it was in an abandoned classroom, well past curfew. Regulus paced as he chewed on his nails, flinching at every little sound made, his eyes narrowing as James grunted and sighed. James was sitting tensely in a conjured chair, head hanging low, forearms resting on his thighs as his hands tapped against his robes. Remus stood apart, arms tightly crossed, his eyes taking in each one who had gathered after the explosions in the great hall. Tracking the microexpressions, the silent tight lines of their mouths, and the wide, almost fearful gazes. Only Severus, who stood next to Lily, was expressionless. His form towering over her seat. Lily’s eyes bounced from James to Regulus as she fiddled with the corner of her shirt. He could smell the apprehension in the air.

 

The door opened, revealing a pale Sirius and a worried Hermione standing side by side. It was silent as they all observed one another. Hermione turned slightly, her hand still tightly entwined with Sirius’s as she rubbed his chest with her other. Head tilting as their eyes connected. He nodded to her before taking a deep breath and taking a step into the room, slowly letting go of her hand. He walked first to James, whispering an apology as he scanned him for injuries. James smiled, a soft, bruised smile, before jumping up from his seat and clapping Sirius on the back in a tight hug. James pulled back as Sirius made his way to Remus. Again and again, he went, apologizing, promising, reassuring- thanking them all until his unsure feet brought him to Regulus.

 

Green. Silver and Black.

 

His eyes catching on the color of his scales, of the snakeskin draped across his tiny body. Yet, he could see it now, that sweet boy with the heart and spirit of a lion- the boy who trailed after him in sweet summers, with sweet memories- Bearing a face so like his own. She had been right, for seeing him, truly seeing him, all the love, all the warmth, and all the happiness burst forth. His brother- his baby brother.

 

“I’m so sorry for how I acted, Reggie- I promise, I promise it’ll never be a problem again.” He pulled him close, tightly squeezing him. His mind trying to banish that image of thousands of black hands.

 

“I was so worried, Sirius, so worried you would hate me.” Regulus cried into his chest. Sirius forced him closer, nearly bruising him in his grip.

“Never- I could never hate you. I had just been blinded, worried I had failed you. I’m the big brother, Reggie- you understand, don’t you?” He leaned down a bit. He was still so small, his bother- he could smell the cologne he had let him borrow, feel the silkiness of hair just as black and just as wild as his.

 

“Congratulations, Reggie- I’m proud of you, really-You’ll be the best damn snake they’ve ever had.”

 

That got chuckles from the group. Slowly, Sirius separated from his brother, the action causing his heart to ache. He didn’t know if he was strong enough to let him go, his worries still present. Grey eyes moved, as if by compulsion, to land on Hermione; she was glassy-eyed as she smiled. He would believe; he would have faith in those words she spoke as truth because the opposite was just too agonizing. Too crushing to bare.

 

Remus froze, his nose twitching wildly, something that caught his attention. Eyes narrowed, mind racing before the soft sound of a throat clearing startled the group. Hermione whipped around near the door, gasping. Behind her, back straight, shoulders set, and face pinched, was the unamused form of his head of house, McGonagall.

 

“What exactly are you all doing out of bed?”

Silence met her question.

 

“2 points from each of you for breaking curfew- I expected better from all of you, especially on the first day. You will all head immediately back to your respective dorms- am I clear?”

More Silence.

“Am I clear?”

 

A chorus of “Yes, yes, ma’am.”

 

“Hurry along now.” McGonagall moved out of the way of the door. Hermione looked to him before moving her eyes uncertain- he smiled a dazzling smile. He didn’t want her to worry, to fret more than he had made her. Her shoulders dropped, her brow unfurled as her tense form relaxed, and she smiled back—a soft, delicate thing that made his heart beat in his chest—before leaving him. James and Remus were next as they tried to get a rise out of their head of house, but she remained impassive as her stern brows raised, daring them to add to their point loss. Then Lily left, with Regulus and Severus following close behind. His hands were twitching, the anxiety coming back with Hermione gone- he couldn’t stop himself.

 

“Wait, Severus, please.”

 

Severus, startled at his plea, stopped in the entry of the doorway, his body turned. Sirius swore they had never gotten along well; even after the truce, there was a bridge- a wall that existed in the spaces between them. He had never overcome the jealousy that burned in his chest. McGonagall waited, eyes curious as she watched both boys.

 

“Please, can you look out for him? I can’t- I-I can’t protect him when he returns to that snake den. Please, I know what kind of burden that might put on you, but protect him; watch his back. There are vipers, ones that would tear him apart.”

 

Severus stood stoically, head tilting as he took in the begging form of Sirius Black. He had never seen him so vulnerable, so bare. He made his decision.

 

“I will- I promise.”

 

Severus tapped the doorframe, his head bowing slightly as his black eyes pierced him deeply before he turned and left.

 

He collapsed, his body trembling from the stress and anxiety- exhausted and bruised.

 

McGonagall stepped in front of him; she leaned just slightly as she offered him a hand.

 

“Come now, Mr. Black, it’s time to go.”

 

 

 

September 13th, 1973, Hogwarts

 

 

There were hundreds of different hexes she knew, all of them lingering on the tip of her tongue- Jinxes and curses, all of which could be applied if only she opened her mouth. If only she raised her hand. This-this wizard, who stood before her and the rest of the students, was undeserving, unworthy of the manifestation of her rage. Hermione fought against her desires, for she knew it was hardly ever maliciousness, but pure ignorance that guided wizards like these. She was flooded with disappointment. Grey thinning hair, pulled tightly into a low ponytail, and large round spectacles dominated his leathery face- brown drooping eyes nestled underneath large bushy brows. His beard was longer than Dumbledore’s, nearly reaching past his knees. Large, thin hands, riddled with spots of age and time, held an equally decrepit wand. Movements slow and jerky. He was layered in robes of blue velvet. She missed their old defense professor. Although the curse on the position was gone, they had been borrowing the EX-MACUSA instructor on a limited contract. Apparently Dumbledore thought this wizard was a worthy replacement.

 

Cacus Vinter

 

An ancient wizard, well past the age of retirement, well past the age of modern plumbing, she believed-stood tall, spine straighter than she believed a wizard of his age could accomplish, as he diligently read through a text that had to be well over 100 years old- as he slowly and methodically supplied all the reasons why werewolves were beasts and why they should be hunted and exterminated. Mindless and unworthy of consideration socially or legally. He was even brazen enough to use prophet articles on the recent attacks, distributing scathing commentary and gory crime scene photographs to children. Remus, poor Remus, had this class next.

 

“Once an individual becomes infected- their humanity ceases to exist as the werewolf venom changes them on a biological and magical level, and so we must learn to identify and root out these dangerous creatures. For their very existence is a threat to society.”

 

She could stand it no longer.

 

“For one night.” She hissed out, startling those around her.

 

The winded fleabag coughed, sputtering as his monologuing was sharply cut off.

 

“Excuse me - Miss?”

 

“Evans- Hermione Evans.”

Tiny jabs against her side as Beth tried to get her attention. The shuffling of parchment and the soft scratching of a quill invaded her ears.

 

“Ah, yes, and what did you say, Miss Evans?”

 

“I said for one night. It’s only one night that these people could pose a danger- even then, with the invention of Wolfsbane, that risk is reduced down even further.”

 

Her golden eyes flashing in defiance as she clenched her quill- she could feel the spine folding in half under her grip. Beth’s parchment slipped into her view. Warnings, cautions. Things she didn’t need to concern herself with.

 

“People?”

 

He scoffed loudly as he adjusted his spectacles.

 

“None of that has been proven, and even then these monsters still pose a danger! They could bleed on you- sneeze in your direction. The longer you share a space with them, the larger the risk for infection. A single scratch and your future is gone- they are a pestilence. These are monsters! Creatures of misfortune, not people!” A large vein bulged from his cherry-red face; he exhaled as if his rant had used up all the air in his lungs.

 

“For one night! It is only one night that they turn, one night that they could possibly spread the curse, and only then it is strictly through the saliva entering the body. You’d know this if you read anything published within this decade instead of spreading fear and bigotry!”

 

Deep inhales, wide eyes. Lily was pale as her emerald eyes flickered back and forth from her normally rule-abiding sister and their cantankerous professor.

 

He stalked forward, slowly, menacingly- his wrinkled hands tightly twisting an article, his lips bared in a snarl, his leathery face contorting with indignation. He made his way to stand before her, slamming the article on her desk. She flinched from the force- he didn’t look to be that strong.

 

“Is this simply bigotry and fear, Miss Evans? Or is this the carnage only a monster can cause? Something so inhuman it preys on innocent children. Am I wrong for noticing a pattern and rightfully teaching our future to identify it? To protect themselves against it?”

 

The article was about a little witch, mauled to death in her bed; the mother lay with her, eyes unseeing, as the father wept- a deep gash upon his shoulder. She knew this scene, knew this story- they were the victims of Greyback’s revenge. How dare he use this violence for his own ends.

 

“Yes, every word from your mouth, every fear-mongering statement you make, every implication you force is WRONG! Because it is not based in truth or fact but on your bias and hatred of those you deem as lessor- already marked in your eyes as inhuman. It is a pattern your mind forces, a pattern your mind conjures to feed the narrative you desire!”

Hermione jumped from her seat, the chair slamming down, the harsh clank rattling through the room as she leaned forward, baring her teeth in a smile.

 

With a snap of her fingers, each article ripped from their resting places, torn from hands, from desktops and wedges between pages, and from locked drawers behind wards, and sped into her open hand. Vinter jumped back, eyes wide and shaky at the display. Once all the articles were collected, she finally pulled her wand. He flinched as he tightened his grip on his own. Sharp jabbing motions as she pulled a name from each article. She flicked her wrist, and the pages rushed to nail themselves to his blackboard. Bright, haunting letters glowed above the pinned stack-

 

Fenrir Greyback.

 

“It seems you forgot the most important pattern of all, professor- This carnage, this violence was caused at the hands of one man.”

 

She sneered as she packed up her supplies, Vinter sputtering as he rushed to pull down the articles, but they wouldn’t budge. He struggled trying to find the counter-curse after his breathy finite failed him.

 

“You really want to protect future wizards and witches? You want them to be able to identify danger? I’ll believe that when you have a portrait of him, when you teach everyone his name, his actions, and his face. I think I’m done for today, professor.” Popping her neck before readjusting her bag, she squared her shoulders and made her way out of the classroom. There was something she had to do now.

 

“You get back here right now, Miss Evans! 10 points from Hufflepuff for insubordination! You’ll have detention the entire week if you do not come back right this instant! I will not stand for this!” he wailed, getting redder and redder as she ignored him.

 

“Good bye professor, see you in detention.”

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

“So a little birdy told me my princess might have detention.” Sirius questioned as he wiggled his eyebrows, hands rubbing together as he forced himself between her and Lysander at dinner. Lysander just stared in amazement after registering what he had said. Hermione knew how Hogwarts gossip spread- fast and mostly elaborated but sometimes true. All the older puffs slowed their eating, eyes trying to act covertly as they listened in.

 

“Might? Oh, I absolutely do.” She mumbled as she bit into an exceptionally tasty sausage.

 

It was like Christmas had come early the way Sirius beamed.

 

“Finally! All my devious influencing has finally worked- tell me, tell me now! Details, please.” He bounced around in his seat, scooting closer.

 

“You know I don’t like bullies, and I certainly don’t like bigots. I just had a bit of a row.”

 

“Of course, princess! So- Who was it with? Who is our undesirable number 1?”

 

“Our?” She raised her brow.

He flicked her shoulder in response.

 

“Of course, our! Any enemy of my princess is also my enemy. If you can’t stand them, there’s no point in looking further. So who are we waging war on?”

 

“Et-hem”

 

Sirius whipped around, jerking back as he came to face Dumbledore, Professor Sprout, and Cacus Vinter. Sprout looked displeased but tried her best to delicately word her question-

“Miss Evans, you’ll need to come with us. There appears to be a problem we need to correct.”

 

“Oh dear, what problem might that be, Professor Sprout?” While it was sugary sweet, Sirius could feel the venom in her words, his eyes narrowing on Professor Sprout.

 

“You unruly girl! You need to remove the curse you placed on my blackboard!” Vinter bellowed, drawing the attention of everyone in the great hall.

 

“Oh, that was you, Princess? How lovely! Hey, aren’t you the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” Sirius laughed as his narrowed eyes moved from Sprout to Vinter. Locked in.

Vinter grimaced as he fiddled with his robes. Sirius knew these types of wizards; he had grown up surrounded by them. The type that would curse little witches and balk in the name of a “proper name” or a “proper son.”

 

“Of course I am, Mr. Black; you had a class with me only hours ago.”

 

“Oh yeah, it wasn’t too memorable. But you are the professor, so what do you mean you need a 13-year-old girl to help you remove a curse?”

 

Hermione snorted into her goblet; she really should pinch him for being so mouthy, but she quite liked it at this moment.

Vinter was turning a deep cherry red again, his veins bulging once more as his mouth twisted to speak- however Dumbledore cut him off before his words made it past his lips.

 

“Miss Evans here is quite exceptional, something our new professor has had the time to see and understand, so it stands to reason we need her to… Teach us about one of her more creative creations.”

 

“Ah, what a convoluted way to say she outsmarted a professor- actually multiple. I guess they hand out the title of professor to any ol’ riff raff these days.” Sirius grinned, eyes sparkling as Vinter turned nearly purple.

 

“Such a shame, not even experienced enough at what? 500? 600 years old? To be bested by a 3rd-year Hogwarts student. Tsk,tsk" He looked down, picking at his nails as he questioned. The old man was practically foaming at the mouth. Eyes turning just as discolored as the rest of him.

 

“Oh well, if you haven’t figured it out yet, which I’m shocked really, I guess I can help- Try Finite Totalum. It is a nifty little counter that was published 3 years ago by a half-blood witch in her book, ‘Adiranna’s Dark Arts Guide to Sticky Hexes and Jinxes ’” Hermione beamed; she leaned into Sirius’s shoulder. Professor Sprout was trying to hold back her smile as she watched. Dumbledore decided to do no such thing, smiling as he clapped Vinter on the shoulder.

 

“Ah, it seems like this has a speedy solution, my friend.”

 

“I can teach you if you like, Professor Vinter. Sometimes, knowing just a bit isn’t enough, and you need someone to show you the proper way to execute it.”

 

It was more than he could bear; with a flutter of his blue velvet robes, he stomped out of the great hall. Dumbledore nodded his head as he followed the angry professor out. Her head of house coughed out a goodbye, not before giving her shoulder a squeeze and delivering a quick wink.

 

“Purple and blue might be my favorite colors today, Princess.” Sirius chuckled.

 

September 15th, 1973, Hogwarts

 

It had taken him a startling amount of time to convince Remus to explore the castle after hours with James and him- startling in the fact it didn’t take much convincing at all. He had wasted hours with James coming up with different plans and maneuvers they could implement to persuade their bookish mate to join in on their shenanigans. Yet all it took was one pair of puppy eyes and a shrill whine from James, and BAM, they had an additional wizard in crime.

 

“Come on, this way, I swear I found a tapestry that opened up-” James whispered as he crept along the halls. Sirius smiled at his curled form as he stood straight, arms up and crossed behind his head. Remus, while not as relaxed as Sirius, still bent in an effort to at least appear stealthy.

 

“Jamie boy, this would be so much easier if we had a map…” Sirius mumbled, his head looking side to side as he eyed which portraits were spies and which were not.

 

James looked like his favorite team had just won the quidditch world cup.

 

“Well… Bloody hell- Remus, use that big, beautiful brain of yours and lay it on me.. Could we- is it possible to make a map of Hogwarts?” James inquired, his tone much louder than he intended.

 

“Language, James- and…Hypothetically, we could? I mean, I think we would have to physically map it, and then, well, I’d have to do some models to see what we’d need to do.” Sirius was watching Remus’s facial expressions as he mentally worked through what might need to be done.He had been noticing things, just small things that he did this year.

 

Sirius knew the moment it happened that he had discovered something the hairs on the back of his neck rising- but what he was not sure of what it could mean. Remus’s stilled, shoulders tensing as his face started to pinch. It was small but his body pivoted, head tilting just enough toward the deserted hall they had passed. He looked, briefly, eyes flashing gold before returning green. Sirurus head tiltied-he was curious what might have caused him to react.

 

“Hey Jamie- Let’s head this way for a sec.” He proposed. Remus relaxed a bit.

“Yeah sure- I don’t really remember which way it was after all.” James moaned as he quickly led the charge. Step after step, led them down the darkened hallway, only huffs of breath and grunts of concern passed their lips as. Yet, Sirius noticed Remus only became more and more agitated as they traveled further. Then he heard it- cries, soft cries, soft pleas echoing from the end of the hallway. James pales, head whiping back to check if they had heard it too. Those soft cries turned to powerful screams.

 

“NO”

 

“GET OFF OF ME, PLEASE GET OFF OF ME.”

 

There was no thought, no need to be cautious, as all three boys bolted into a run, James leading the pack as they rounded around a corner; there, beneath the torchlight, was a girl, desperately fighting her attacker. Sirius saw red; his body moved on its own as he surged forward, winding back his arm and punching the boy towering over her with as much force as he could create.

 

CRACK

 

He didn’t know whether it was his fist that had broken or the face of the fucker he had hit. The attacker's face was hidden by the darkness of the corner he landed in. He moved, heart beating out of his chest as he mounted him. He kept seeing the tears on the girl's face, the pitch of her screams, the desperation in her her movements- blow after blow, he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop until James and Remus forcibly pulled him from his body. Green. Silver. Black. His mind kept showing him those colors, kept conjuring images of vipers, of chimeras. He could barely hear the voices, the shouting to stop, as he rushed to kick the boy again. Barely feeling the pain in his hand as he clenched his fists- By the time McGonagall and Pomfrey arrived, he wondered if he had killed him- he certainly wasn’t moving. He sat, back against the wall, fists bloody and purple, James to his right and Remus to his left, as he watched Pomfrey rush to the boy. The poor girl was a third-year just like them, a lion just like them- Mary, Mary Macdonald.

 

Then he saw it as Pomfrey levitated his form, dragging it into the light. Red and Gold.

 

Red and Gold.

 

His heart clenched.

Chapter 28: Smiling Faces Sometimes

Summary:

A gardener must be able to identify invasive species, and the collection of common plants native to his garden.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

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“The most sensual people understand that there are nuances to everything. They get that life isn’t ‘this or that.’ It isn’t dualistic. It’s not black and white, there are so many shades of grey in it.”

― Lebo Grand

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September 15th, 1973, Hogwarts (Evening)

 

The moonlight shone brightly through the window Sirius sat beneath; he could still feel the pain in his knuckles, the vibration within his blood and bones as he leaned his head back upon the windowsill. They had made it back to their dorm, silent and pensive after reporting what they had seen, what they had stopped. James and Remus were set apart from him, far across the room, as they spoke softly to each other. He could feel it, the distance, the unease; he noticed it the moment they saw his bruised and bloody hands, the splattering of drops on his face and shirt. The ever-widening chasm that opened when he sighed after Pomfrey declared the miserable wretch hadn’t died. The looks, the same expressions he had seen on the faces of other witches and wizards as they watched his father, watched his mother stroll through diagon. White rays, blended with the darkness that surrounded him, enveloped him in a muted grey that radiated out, its stretch ending as it reached James and Remus, the light of their dorm candles bathing them in a soft, warm hue. He wondered if they knew how keen his hearing was- that the soft whispering wasn’t enough. He could hear how they had begun to fear him, to question his sanity.

 

“But, Remus, he just- he wouldn’t stop. Even after he was down.”

“I… I know James, but he was all over that girl. What would you have done?”

“I would have beat his ass too, nearly did if he didn’t get there first, but .. I heard her; Pomfrey said if it was a moment later- no magic would have been enough.”

Remus exhaled through his nose, his mouth opening and closing before gathering himself.

“James, in the end it was the right thing; that’s what should matter.”

 

It seems they had come to an agreement.

 

 

James stepped forward, still standing within the light, the tips of his toes edging along the boundary as he spoke.

 

“Mate, are you okay- I mean.” He ran his hand through his hair before adjusting his glasses.

“I mean, this has been a lot, but are you okay?” It was unspoken, but he could feel the gaze on his hands. The whisper of magic in his blood occluding his thoughts, the venom of what he wanted to say- what he knew they were thinking.

 

Sirius closed his eyes, tilting his head back; he could almost feel the brush of the light on his cheeks, the coldness of the night as it bled through the window. Remus this time moved forward, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with James, his hand coming up to squeeze his shoulder before stepping forward, coming to sit down next to Sirius.

 

“You’ve just been pretty quiet; we can break into the badger den if we need to.”

Sirius scoffed, yet the corner of his lip lifted.

 

Sirius could feel the heat from Remus pressing along his shoulder, the soft movement of air as James finally came to sit at his other side. He opened his eyes and looked down at his hands; they were clean, they were healed. He wished they were still bruised, wished they were still bloody.

 

“I’m okay.”

 

Hazel and Green connected, narrowing and questioning as they communicated.

The lie would be enough for now.

 

 

September 16th, 1973, Hogwarts

 

There was a stiffness to their movements, a silent unease that was deep and piercing as each student made their way to their seats within the great hall. It was thick, choking the current in the air as they realized there was a group situated on the stage and that there was something- something that needed more than a simple word. The horrors and heroism of the previous night had been whispered unsure, spread with haste from trembling lips to terrified ears. It swallowed Hogwarts like a storm, covering the castle in a thickening cloud- a heavy rain of terror, as confessions rose from those who collapsed with relief, washed of their apprehensions. Sirius stood stoically next to James and Remus, his eyes mapping each and every face of those that surrounded Hermione. There was a desperate itch, whittling away as he tried to process body language, to read lips, and to map intention and moods. Chimeras and Vipers now came in many colors.

 

They were waiting next to their head of house on the level where teachers usually sat, McGonagall, who stood tall, her stern gaze taking in the growing crowd-gauging their emotions, their curiosity. Dumbledore’s shoulder nearly touched hers. The headmaster raised his wand, amplifying his voice as he addressed the students.

 

“Before dinner commences, I would like to address what I am sure is on everyone’s mind.”

He stepped forward to the podium in front.

 

“First, I would like to recognize the three young wizards standing here with us- Sirius Black, James Potter, and Remus Lupin. I commend them on their bravery and fortitude for their willingness to step up and stop a horrific act from taking place. They will be honored with Hogwarts special service award for their courage.”

 

McGonagall flicked her wand, and each award made its way to the boys. Sirius, numbly, reached for his; it felt heavy in his hands as he ignored the clapping. His eyes never straying from yellow and gold. Hermione was looking at him, head slightly tilted- he could feel it, the caress of her gaze as it trailed from his face, to his shoulders to his hands- as if everything he was seeped from his pores. Would she finally distance herself? Finally create the same space growing between him and others as they realized- he was, in fact a Black. It would kill him if she did.

 

“Harm within these halls will never be tolerated”

He caught the narrowing of her eyes, the slight twitch of her brow. The flash of her magic- He realizes Dumbledore is lying. For the first time, his eyes move, narrowing on Dumbledore.

 

“Last night a student just like yourself tried to harm a young witch in a way most heinous. Thankfully, he was stopped, again, by these wizards.” Dumbledore raised his hands, gesturing to them.

 

“Ludolf Vane, was expelled from Hogwarts last night and turned over to the Auror’s just this morning.”

 

There was a collective inhale before gasps rang out- whispers turned to cries.

 

“Mr. Vane, was thought to be an upstanding member of Gryffindor House, a 6th-year prefect, and a popular member of the Quidditch team. As he was well liked among not only his house but also by other peers, I understand the shock that this must be. There have already been other individuals who have stepped forward to speak against him- If you know anything or are a victim, please speak with your heads of house. Even if it is not related to this individual- if there is a concern you have, please have the courage to step forward just as these wizards have. Thank you.”

 

His body moved on autopilot, one foot in front of the other they led him not to the Gryffindor table but leading him home-his body betraying his growing anxiety and desperation as he found himself in front of Hermione- it would ruin him, but he needed to know. Instead of distance, instead of apprehension or unease, she grew closer, her body leaning forward as she clasped his hand. He was unraveling. The strength of her grip holding him together, that little soft smile- lit each nerve within his body.

 

The roar of voices rang out- His ears so attuned to the tone, the quality of her soft voice-it seemed to overpower everything else, amplifying her words as if she had screamed them.

 

“I’m proud of you.”

 

September 22nd, 1973 Hogwarts

 

Are you okay?

 

Those three simple words, ones that made him grind his teeth, that kept him on edge as his mind spiraled, as he calculated the threats that lived within the walls, as he tossed and turned at night- it sat like a bulging stone situated in his mattress. It was only three simple words, said in hundreds of ways by multiple faces, yet it forced bile to rise in his throat, forced his rage to return, to boil instead of simmer in the way he tried to keep it contained. He laughed when he needed to, smiled when he could feel the tension, and joked when the awkwardness grew to be too much. Everyone gave him space now; he craved it, craved to distance himself from all the emotions, all of the concerns and assumptions- except Hermione kept close. Silent in her appreciation, warm in her gestures, her magic- unchanged by the details, unflinching at his temper. It gave him so much relief to be treated normally.

 

Even now as he rested in her lap under their tree, even as he burrowed deeper, she was silent.

 

He adored her all the more for it.

 

Journal Entry, September 23rd, Hogwarts, 12:15am

 

He could feel the vibration, the heat as the journal next to his head came alive; it had dragged him from his half conscious musing, James and Remus were fast asleep. He had started to keep it next to his pillow, unable to bear the distance, the anxiety that came with missing a message. His hands trembled as he reached for it, his heart beating in his chest; that feeling of ecstasy that righted his world flooded his system. He slowly turned the pages, stopping on familiar looping script.

 

“Sirius, it’s time.”

 

He bit his lip, his eyes rereading the words. He didn’t want to; it wasn’t enough time. It felt like it would never be enough- but he knew he couldn’t deny her. He had never been able to deny her- even when his mind screamed his family’s teachings, it seemed her words reigned supreme. Maybe, perhaps, she would give him mercy. He picked up his quill from the side table. Hastily responding back.

 

“Of course, time for bed, right, princess?”

 

His heart dropped. What a cruel goddess.

 

“No, Sirius, it’s time.”

 

His hand was writing before his brain could panic.

“I’m okay.”

 

“No, you are not, but that’s okay. It’s time, Sirius, to talk about what’s bothering you.”

 

Hermione sat bundled in her bed, curtain drawn as she listened to the snoring of her dorm mates, her journal propped up on her knees as she waited. The night sky shining down on her from her canopy, lighting the confession as it birthed from the lines on the page.

 

“I liked it- in that moment, after the rage, after the adrenaline ended, I realized I liked it.”

She shifted in her seat, generally tightening her hold on the journal as she leaned back against her headboard.

 

“I’ve always fought, against my family, pushed and pushed against their ideals, their cruelty. I thought, the moment I was sorted into Gryffindor, that it was just confirmation-I was different. There had never been a Black in Gryffindor before. Gryffindors were heroes, were the good guys, the light, everything my family wasn’t. Yet, it wasn’t a slimy Slytherin under my hands- it was a lion. "

 

She waited.

 

“If, a Gryffindor is capable of this-something so terrible—if it doesn’t represent goodness and bravery, am I just the same? Still a monster like my family, just in different colors? Because I liked it, princess. I liked the feeling of beating that wretch- liked the fact I might have killed him. I was disappointed too.”

 

She reread his perfect script over and over, remembering how good it felt when she had trapped Rita in a jar, the sharp jolt of satisfaction when she looked at Edgecombe’s mutilated face after she had ratted them out, or even the small rush of dopamine when she heard Umbridge’s screams as the centaurs hauled her off. Harry and Ron, well, they certainly thought she was unhinged. Scary but Brilliant. Scary though, it was always what they led with. She could picture it; Remus had given her the details: his massive form towering over the other wizard. She imagined the rage, the strength- the way his eyes glinted viciously. The same way when he swung his beater’s bat and it finally drove the bludger into the player he was tracking. It was just a younger version of the older Sirius she knew. She blushed; the image it conjured wasn’t exactly unappealing.

 

Maybe they were right- she was a bit unhinged after all.

 

“Sirius, you did the right thing, even if you liked some of the darker parts of it. We all have those parts of us, even I do. The only thing that matters is our actions- and you’ve always pushed yourself to do the right thing, and I promised I would set you right if you didn’t. In the end, you saved her- saved so many other witches who he had hurt. If that isn’t what it means to be brave, to be a hero, then you’re lying to yourself. I meant it that day. I am proud of you.”

 

She waited once more; he was so much more willing to be open in this life, but ultimately he was still Sirius Black. A loving heart wrapped with cruelty, wrapped in power and rashness—a mix of contradictions that spiraled and clashed into one of the most powerful and loyal wizards she had ever met.

 

“A lion with scales. You were right after all.”

 

Pink lips formed a soft smile.

 

“Of course, I am the brightest witch of my age- or so I’ve heard.”

 

“Forgive me, for forgetting that.”

 

“It’s okay-Thankfully you’re pretty.” she teased.

 

“Well then, I’d be remiss if I didn’t provide a reminder for you daily.”

 

“Sirius, are you okay?”

 

Sirius stared at the words illuminated by the soft glow of his lumos- his cheeks hurt from the smile that had slowly taken over his face. It was the first time in days, that those three little words spread warmth through his chest instead of rage.

 

“I’ll be okay, princess.”

 

And this time it didn’t feel like a lie.

 

October 10th, 1973, Hogwarts 7pm

 

It had taken time for everything to right itself, for the distance to close, for him to feel like himself once more, but now, now his mind was stuck. Spiraling in another direction as he focused on Remus. He was pale, so much paler than normal, with dark bags under his eyes, and he was grouchy- more aggressive than his bookish mate tended to be. To top it off, he had nearly fought the wizard himself with how he cuddled into Hermione’s arms or soothing hands- the little shit would smirk and look his way too. She mothered him quite frequently when he started to get a bit peaky like this.

 

“Just look at him , Sirius; he doesn’t feel well.”

He looked well enough to hold your arm.

 

“No, Sirius, don’t jump on him.”

He looked strong enough to carry your book.

 

“No, Sirius, don’t steal his chocolate.”

If he’s conscious enough to accept the chocolate you usually give me, he’s fine.

 

“Here, you can sit over there, because I’m going to sit with Remus.”

He’s about to be more unwell, the cheeky shit.

 

She was so cruel, ignoring his pouting face, ignoring his smiles, and slapping his hands when all he wanted to do was run them through her auburn curls. He felt like he was withering away at the inattention. All he had was James- His best mate, his brother in all but blood, since his real blood brother- the little traitor—would just roll his eyes and huff. Running off with Severus, muttering something like, “This is insane, he’s so obnoxious.” It wasn’t his fault; he was used to a certain lifestyle, a certain finery that she had provided- he was entitled to be a bit put out that he’d been thrown into this unsustainable living situation. Remus twitched, just slightly- nostrils flaring. Sirius’s head tilted slightly; there it was again. It was little things Remus would do, like smell the air before making a remark about a person- they’d show up shortly after. He’d avoid them after Quidditch practice or comment on how Hermione was after their morning workouts. That one he might have to give up as common knowledge- but his curiosity had been tickled ever since that night.

 

“Merlin, this is delicious,” Remus groaned, nearly inhaling his cutlery along with the incredibly rare steak he had devoured. His grey eyes snapped to Hermione; she had smiled, just slightly, as she covertly edged the plate of bacon next to Remus. Nostrils flared again, shortly after Remus was sneaking an extra helping onto his plate.

 

“What a tosser,” he whispered under his breath.

 

Remus looked up from his plate to glare at him as he devoured another slice of steak.

 

He smiled.

 

How curious.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

“Hey, mate, did you hear?”

 

“What is it, Ickle James-y?”

He huffed as James pillow smacked him in the face.

 

“Ugh, Merlin, no- Banned, exiled from acceptable names- anyway, poor bloke. Remus got sick; Hermione had to take him up to the infirmary. Pomfrey said he’ll have to stay the night.”

 

Sirius looked out the window; there, high in the sky, was a bright full moon.

 

“You don’t say.”

 

James quickly walked over and snatched his pillow back before settling in for bed.

 

“Poor guy gets sick a lot.”

 

“Almost monthly, wouldn’t you say?”

 

James tossed a toy replica of a bludger in the air.

 

“Actually, yeah, if it isn’t some sickness he’s got, his poor mother- must be a family thing.”

 

Sirius leaned back into his bed, staring up at the canopy while his finger tapped on his thigh. It was certainly something.

 

October 13th, 1973, Hogwarts

 

The prodigal son returns, cleared of pestilence and ready to reinsert himself into wizarding society- Sirius mused as he watched Remus come into view. The sun was out, and he had finally convinced his princess to pay attention to him- and by pay attention, to simply let him nap in her lap, basking in her undivided attention for once. He’d even bribed James to distract Lily, and her other puff friends. It only cost him a few gallons and one pass as a prank lab rat. Hermione had laughed so beautifully when she saw the luscious turquoise locks he was now sporting. The color might have clashed with his skin tone, but it was worth it to see her smile. Remus gingerly sat down next to Hermione on the grass; it was chillier than normal. She turned to smile at him, before setting down her book and rummaging through her bag- He could see how Remus’s body slumped even further as tension receded. She handed him a bar of chocolate, which he accepted with a brilliant smile.

 

Sirius watched and watched and waited. As soon as Remus finished the bar, mind distracted by the book he had brought with him, he struck. Slowly, he slid his hand into his pocket- lightly crinkling the wrapper of the chocolate Hermione had given him earlier. Without looking up, Remus simply extended his hand. Brows creased, a small frown appeared as Remus was pulled from his reading to stare at Hermione. When he realized she was just reading, confusion took over- he slowly dropped his hand, going back to his book.

 

How curious.

 

October 18th, 1973 Hogwarts

 

“Wizard’s Compendium of Werewolves Through the Century.”

 

“Under the Moon Light: A Cursed Guide to Werewolf Bites.”

 

“Secrets of Dark Creatures Vol.9”

 

“Creature Rights Through the Ages- Britain’s Guide to Legal Matters.”

 

“Britain’s Most Wanted: Notorious Werewolves.”

 

He loved when she was trying to be sneaky, more so when she displayed her brilliance so easily. These were all innocuous titles for a swot like her- there wasn’t a day that she wasn’t reading some musty old tome about some abstract piece of wizarding history or learning some new spell. Yet he had noticed a pattern: she would go through several tomes, all of varying subjects, before settling on one werewolf-related book every few days. He even charmed Mrs.Pince just long enough to sneak a peek at her logs. He was dealing with Hermione- he had to make sure she wasn’t just charming the cover like that vampire romance he caught her reading. He had decided that day that the shade of red that swallowed her face was the most lovely thing he’d ever seen. His shoulder still hurt from when he whispered Laurence’s line in her ear when she thought she had gotten away with it- She had a nasty right hook. Sirius even smiled as he watched the brief look around before she pulled out today’s contraband. He made sure to pretend to pay extra attention to his charms homework as he sat next to her. His eyes quickly scanned the spine of her book.

 

“Pack Dynamics- An Aspiring Animagus’s Guide to Animal Hierarchy.”

 

That one got an eyebrow rise- it seemed his princess was up to something. His curiosity had been burning; he was unable to let it go, his mind chasing and chasing as he put together his suspicions.

 

October 19th, 1973 Hogwarts

 

 

“YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW, MISS EVANS! 15 POINTS FROM HUFFLEPUFF! DETENTION- AGAIN!”

 

Sirius jumped back as he nearly got taken out by the door that was swung open with a surprising force from such a little witch. Auburn curls crackling with sparks of magic as they seemed to swell and move on their own- a light red flush graced her cheeks as she sneered, turning quickly this time with her wand raised. He shook his head, trying to snap out of admiring her before running up behind the advancing witch.

 

“Ah, ah, ah, Princess, let’s not maim the professors today.”

He pulled her back by her waist.

 

Brows raised to his hairline as he registered the deep rumbling growl that crept through her pink lips.

 

She had actually growled at him. Vicious little thing- he loved it.

 

He couldn’t stop the hearty laugh that escaped him as he tightened his hold around her waist, hauling her up as he smiled at the sputtering, purple-faced professor. He pulled her tight as she clawed and twisted, slowly backing her out of the class and back into the safety of the hallway. Freeing one hand, he saluted the class before kicking the door closed.

 

“Tsk tsk, love. No- no biting, come on.”

 

He mused on how light she still was as she wiggled to get out of his hold, hissing threats of bodily harm if he didn’t comply. While he knew just how serious she was, he decided the risk was worth it once he had gotten farther down the hall. Huffing and hissing, hair nearly levitating at this point, yet he couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful she looked. Maybe he’d have to aggravate her deliberately in the future- he certainly wanted to see this side of her more often. His poor brain cells barely registered the stinging hex she shot at his legs, nor the one in his side. He held her tighter once he rounded the corner before setting her down. Her magic was spicy; it tickled against his skin as she fought.

 

“Are you even listening to me, Sirius Black?” She was waving her finger in his face.

“Of course, princess.” He beamed a smile at her as he tilted his head, resting it on the wall he leaned against, and he crossed his arms as he waited her out.

 

“Oh don’t you princess me! I ought to hex you more!” She had started pacing now- back and forth as she cursed him and occasionally the decrepit defense teacher.

 

“That disgusting old windbag-” there was stomping now; he thought it was cute.

“I should hex his eyes open so he’d be able to see how blind he’s been-” He could practically feel the steam coming off her.

“I swear I should re-curse the position-” His eyes slowly traveled up to the dim title starting to shimmer above her head- Hazy yellow eventually turned into a bright gold, light shining down onto her sparkling curls. She looked so lovely, vengeful, and sneering.

 

His eyes widened as the words formed, his shoulders started to shake, and his lip bruised as he fought to hold in the laugh that was building. He clenched his fists in order to distract his mind. Merlin, she’d really mean to hex him if he laughed.

 

CANTANKEROUS KITTEN

 

It followed her as she paced and ranted- she stopped only briefly to point a finger in his direction, eyes blazing as she prepared herself to yell- she froze. Her eyes narrowing as she observed him, it only took a second as she read his face, only a second as she clocked that his eyes were looking right above her head. Hermione looked up and squeaked- a bright red blush painted her face.

 

“Feel better now, Kitten?”

 

She paled, all the fight draining out of her. His brows furrowed-something was wrong; there was an ache in his chest, something that pinched, that pulled at his magic as it reached for hers. He felt the crushing desire to fix it; everything in him was confused- what had just happened?

 

“Kitten?” A curious voice from behind asked.

“I apologize for hexing you, Siri.” Hermione whispered through trembling lips. The title vanished. He didn’t like that- that tone she had used—didn’t like that her eyes had gotten glassy. Yet Hermione remained silent- withdrawn as she spun to see who had talked. Remus was making his way; it was time for Gryffindor’s defense class to start. She rushed past him; before she made her way around him completely, she reached up to squeeze his arm, giving him a sullen look before hastily making her escape.

 

“I’m sorry, Remus.”

 

Remus looked to him, just as confused and concerned as he was- He wanted to rush after her, to demand to know what he had said or done that had practically caused her to cry.

 

“What? What just happened, Sirius?’

“I don’t know, she was fine- nearly ready to chew my head off—and then- then that.”

 

His feet led him forward, yet Remus held him back.

 

“Come on- We’ll be late. But I promise we’ll track her down right after class.”

“Fuck class- I should-”

 

“You know she’d get even more upset if she found out you were skipping classes on top of-" He gestured with his hands.

“Whatever that was. Come on.”

 

He dragged his feet as he let Remus drag him back toward the Defense class.

 

His mind was whirring, recounting everything that had happened- every thing was fine, perfectly fine, until he had called her kitten. Could that have been it?

 

He slid into his seat, his eyes narrowing on the professor as he devised several ways he could maliciously comply just enough to drive the old wizard crazy. He was still undesirable number 1 until Hermione stated otherwise. He waited, arms crossed as he leaned back in his seat while Professor Vinter passed out the class assignment. He stewed and stewed, counting down the minutes until he could leave. His foot twitched as he tapped incessantly, his finger tapping on his desk as he ground his teeth. Toward the end of the class, he had an epiphany. Professor Vinter, passed around the homework assignment - 39 inches of parchment on how to put down a turned werewolf. He didn’t turn his head, but his eyes slid to his periphery, where Remus sat. He was pale now, silent and still- his hand trembled as he picked up the assignment.

 

Sirius sucked in air greedily, trying to center himself as his mind connected it together.

 

“I’m sorry, Remus.”

her whispered words.

 

The senses. The books. The chocolate. The scars he’d seen once when Remus changed. His illness every month, the full moon- Hermione’s first detention was when they started the chapter on werewolves.

 

Remus was a werewolf.

Notes:

I appreciate your patience with this. Honestly, the last few days, with everything going on in the world, I haven't been able to get into the headspace I need for writing. Once again, thank you all for all your lovely comments and taking the time to read my story!

Love you all. <3

Chapter 29: For All We Know

Summary:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

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“You learn something valuable from all of the significant events and people, but you never touch your true potential until you challenge yourself to go beyond imposed limitations.”― Roy T. Bennett

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October 19th, 1973 Hogwarts

 

Bright flashes of coiling green, putrid yellow, and vengeful red; deathly arcs of magic slung from twisted wands and twisted lips sought to destroy as she ran from the echoing cackling of Bellatrix Lestrange- A silver mask ripped from a menacing face, silenced words that birthed a pervasive purple- a deep, agonizing slash, like a butcher knife, ripping and tearing her chest open, then darkness. Her mind kept torturing her with the day at the Department of Mysteries- her eyes were glassy as she slowly polished the trophies on the third floor. Methodically she moved; one by one she slowly cleared each casing. Filch had left her just shortly, muttering under his breath about the clattering coming from down the hall. Her hand absentmindedly rubbed against her sternum. Harry’s tears, Harry’s voice echoed in the silence of her work: “He’s gone, gone Hermione, she killed him.” Even then she had felt as if something within her cracked. The man she rescued, the extraordinary wizard who had broken out of an inescapable jail, crossed an uncrossable stretch of turbulent water alone to protect his godson- the man who she fought with, who she cared for as he finally broke down beneath a glass of firewhiskey -extinguished. Snuffed out by family- a cousin. She had seen him, seen him standing exactly as Sirius had, with the same glint of amusement, same tilt of his smile- same tone of his voice as he called her Kitten. Her heart had seized, crumbling in on itself as the memory overlaid the present- It had ruined her.

 

Her hands shook as she worked, throat raw as she tried desperately to hold back her sobs.

 

It had hurt when he died, but that was Harry’s Sirius, Harry’s godfather, Harry’s family, and since Harry was hers, her brother in all but blood, her friend—Sirius Black was important, necessary. The flash of the prophet that had landed in her breakfast days later registered in her mind.

 

THE END OF THE MOST ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK

SIRIUS BLACK DEAD

 

Glass cracked as magic lashed out; the trophy in her hand shuddered as her magic pressed against it, melting and reforming as it was forced through transfiguration as she squeezed it tightly. The dam broke, tears spilled over, crashing against her cheeks, falling swiftly as they carved out paths of righteous anger and despair.

 

This one was HERS.

Her Friend

HER SIRIUS BLACK.

 

She dropped the trophy to curl in on herself- she had always been a lonely child; she coveted her things deeply. Even after she was reborn, that ache, that greedy, desperate part of her, had never left- They were her family, her friends, HERS. It was a harsh lesson, one she learned early on- that things can be taken away, that there were few who could tolerate her, and that made those who could all the more precious. She tried to stifle her sobs; she could feel him coming. His icy cold magic was like a balm, cooling her emotions. Large hands, strong and gentle, cradled her shoulders as they pulled her from her spot and lifted her easily into a warm lap- muscular arms wrapped around her.

 

“Shh, shh, princess. I know, it’s horrifying that Slytherins won in 1943.”

She snorted, before sniffling, her hands sliding up to wrap around his neck.

 

“Wait, what?” she mumbled as she buried herself into the small space underneath his chin that felt as if it was made for her. She felt him jerk a bit, kicking the trophy she had held; the metallic clattering rang out as it bounced away. She peeked at his face; he was sneering at it as if it had committed some crime. They both must be mad.

 

“It was Slytherin’s House Cup for 1943- of course it would bring anyone to tears.”

 

It was so stupid, the way he joked, so, so much like Harry’s Sirius- the tears came faster now. There just under her ear was a strong, steady beat- he was alive, he was her Sirius. She tightened her hold around his neck again; she could hear his soft sigh, feel the power in his arms as he pulled her closer- feel the tickle of his breath as he buried his face in her hair. It helped calm her immensely.

 

“Siri”

 

“Yes, Princess?”

 

“You can’t die- I forbid it.” she commanded.

 

His arms trembled around her waist.

“I mean it, Siri- You’re not allowed, forbidden, absolutely unacceptable- you’ll be on my shit list for eternity. You have to become a decrepit old wizard- 180 no, 200!”

A loud, barking laugh shook her whole body, pulling a small smile to her face. Her magic melting together with his, searing heat and soothing cold sinking into each other- creating the most pleasant warmth that wrapped her softly.

 

“I promise, Princess, I’ll put Nicholas Flamel to shame. But, you have to make sure you’ll be there to see that Sirius Black keeps his promises.”

 

“Deal.”

 

October 24th, 1973 Hogwarts

 

Sirius impatiently stared at the shimmering tempus he had cast; at exactly seven minutes after nestling into her reading spot, which was quite average considering he had clocked her at anywhere from 5 to 10 minutes before she usually caved, Hermione quickly glanced around before pulling out another werewolf-related book. Her eyes glittered with mischief as she stroked the tome. This one looked more abused than the last- it must be older. He slinked closer, reading the spine as he glided into the chair next to her.

 

Catterton’s Memoirs- Life of a Pack Mate

 

She looked up, eyes still mesmerizing; it was difficult to remain dedicated to his curiosity when she looked at him like that- a dazzling smile that would have knocked him off his feet if he was still standing graced her face as she regarded him briefly before going back to reading. Shaking his head to refocus himself, he pulled out his parchment, his quill, and a potential peace offering- Sugar quills, her favorite. Drumming his fingers against the table, he stared at her face intently, wondering whether she could feel his eyes on her just as he could feel whenever she graced him with her interest. Just under a minute, she looked up, blessing him with a lighted view of her beautiful face.

 

“What’s up, Siri?”

 

He cocked his head back, looking up toward the ceiling in the library.

“I don’t see anything.”

She smirked, chuckling sweetly as she shook her head.

“It’s just a Muggle saying- like what is going on? Do you need something? I can feel you staring, and it’s quite distracting.”

“Of course I am- although I’m a bit curious whether this one is another harrowing vampire romance novel you’ve disguised or if you have a secret interest in werewolves.” He smiled when he saw the light flush on her cheeks.

 

“You prat, that was one time! And Beth gave it to me; I couldn’t not read it.”

Ah, he caught the deflection.

 

“So it is a secret interest in werewolves.” Fingers drumming once again, the movement drawing her eyes.

“Hmm, well, maybe.” She shrugged her shoulders, quickly turning back to her book, but he could see how tightly she was holding it- practically tearing out pages with the force of her fingertips along the edges.

She was cute when she lied.

“Remus must be flattered.”

 

THUMP

 

The book slammed into the ground- in the next moment she was pulling him by the ear, he jumped up out of his seat trying to relieve pressure as her wand raised- she threw out some sort of spell. He winced as she tugged, his heart speeding up. As she moved closer, there was the same vicious little twinkle in her eye he had seen before- his heart beat wildly; he liked that, his mind was fighting, forcing him to remember- to acknowledge the very present danger in the form of an attractive little witch. He started to sweat, eyes jumping back and forth from her face to the offering- he needed the offering to distract her rage, to redirect his wildly inappropriate mental path. He flailed, hand smacking along the table, feeling along desperately until he recognized the distinct square shape. He pulled it forward, arm swinging fast as he whipped it in front between his face and the surprisingly close pointy end of her wand.

 

“Now now, princess, let’s not overreact; have a sugar quill instead of maiming me.”

She sputtered, head shaking slightly, shoulders dropping as she eyed the box; her wand, however, was still raised.

“Are you serious????” Her brilliant mind registered it before her body instinctively tensed- a deep, soft, lengthy groan slipped from her lips as she noticed his growing smile- she let go, leaning back into her chair. It hit like a bludger- a bludger powered solely from the deep force of corny wordplay.

 

“I’m always Sirius.”

 

Hands covered her lovely face as she dropped her wand into her lap.

 

“Please don’t.” she pleaded.

 

He couldn’t contain his laugh as he watched her place her hands over her face in the form of prayer before covering it once more.

Fingers slowly opened, revealing one golden iris. He could see her smiling now, rage fully diverted- success.

 

“Listen- this is s-important, very important. Something that shouldn’t be blurted out in public, okay?”

 

“Okay, okay- that was my bad, but to be fair, I did make sure no one was around- at least from what I can see.” He raised his hands in surrender, slowly backing away to seat himself back in his chair. He rubbed his throbbing ear- she was quite forceful when she wanted to be.

 

“How did you figure it out? And does Remus know that you know?”

 

“Honestly, princess, it was a combination of you and him. Little tells that added up. He doesn’t know that I know I know, or that you know that I know you know, or that you know that I know-”

 

“UGH- nope! Absolutely not going down that rabbit hole.” She crossed her arms as she huffed at him.

 

“Princess, what? Why do you need to go down holes for rabbits?”

 

She groaned again, looking at his smug face.

“Does James know?”

 

He leaned back, raising his arms up as he crossed his fingers and rested them behind his head.

“Jamie suspects something; I don’t think he’s actually connected the dots yet.”

 

Hermione uncrossed her arms, using one to balance on the arm of her chair, she leaned over to pick up her book on the floor. She held it gingerly as she turned it to inspect it for any damage. Wincing slightly when she found a dog-eared page, her fingers rushed to smooth out the crease before opening it back up to the place she had left off on.

 

“Are you planning on telling him you know?” His eyes narrowed; there was something off in her tone. She was fiddling with her robes while abusing her poor lower lip.

“I might. I’ve been mulling over waiting for James or not- he’d cry if he was the last one to find out. So, I think I can pretend I’m surprised when the time comes to avoid that mess.”

Her brows furrowed, she opened her mouth before closing it, chewing on the corner of her lip before letting out a soft question.

 

“Does it bother you that he is one?”

 

Ah. There it was.

 

“It bothers me when he hogs all your attention, It bothers me when he snores- loudly by the way, at night, like a bloody banshee howl, that one- it bothers me that he gets mad when I mess up the angle of how he folds his socks. There are plenty of things that bother me about Remus, and that will never be one.”

One hand braced himself against the table as the tiny witch launched herself out of her seat, book forgotten again, this time on the side table, as she hugged him tightly. He could feel the caress of her breath on his neck, tingles running through his body as she held on tightly. Warmth flooded him, happiness sparking through his blood as her magic rhapsodized around her.

 

“You are the best, Sirius! Can I show you what I’m working on? I’ve been dying to show-”

 

He was glad that she didn’t notice she was still halfway in his lap as she chattered away, showing him all the different books she had read, how they were important. Every once in a while he would break her concentration by offering her a sugar quill- she would beam at him, her magic content and purring. His body would come alive, heady and drunk on the excitement she displayed, on the closeness of her body, the softness of her voice. He could listen to her for hours- it’s precisely what he did.

 

October 26th, 1973 Hogwarts

 

He was never the type to be able to keep a secret for long- well he could, but not when it was so obvious, not when he’d been annoyed to no end and intentionally antagonized by the secret holder that ought to know better than to test him during these trying times- and by trying times, he was forced from the study group Hermione had put together with his brother. Something about being a distraction and wanting to bond with Regulus- It was simply cruel and unusual torture, banishment, and deprivation, which he protested loudly and excessively to deaf ears.

 

Regulus, spine straight, posture impeccable, nodded along diligently while Hermione patiently explained something on the parchment between them, He’d mention something back, something that would cause her eyes to light in satisfaction before she praised him with a soft pat on the arm or a little smile. Stiff shoulders would lose a bit of tension, his body would lean in more as he soaked it up. It seemed neither of the Black brothers was immune to her charm. Seeing them together studying, smiling, and actually getting along tickled a space deep within his chest- fed him unending waves of happiness and relief. It was the only way he could tolerate the distance. Yet Remus sat smugly in his spot, still allowed within the group. Even James was falling onto his shit list; it didn’t help how much he leaned over the table to speak to her, or touch her hands, or pass material to her- He tried to distract himself with his list, focusing on “toning it down.” As both boys had politely reminded and suggested earlier.

 

Yaxely, Mulciber, Avery, Malfoy, Crabbe-He grunted as he looked over the sparse list. These were those he knew undoubtedly were threats, either still inside the school or with enough connections outside of it to influence others. There were others he suspected- deciding to be thorough, he made a new column labeled “Possible cunts,” chuckling at the title before scratching down a few names- Crouch, Mclaggen, Corvus.

 

“How… inspiring, Black.” a low voice commented.

 

He grunted, trying to ignore Severus as he slid into the seat next to him. There was a rustling of parchment, of robes and supplies, distracting his already distracted mind. It was only a second, but he turned to tell him off before Severus slid him a folded parchment. Black eyes sat beneath a lifted brow; a sly smirk graced his face. Sirius narrowed his eyes before setting down his quill and picking up the folded parchment. Opening it up, he quickly read the contents- a vicious smile took over his face as he used one hand to squeeze Severus’s shoulder. Severus tried to lean away from his touch, but his grip was punishing as he rocked him back and forth.

 

“You and I are going to be the best of friends, mate.”

 

There, in his distinctive scrawl, was a much longer list than the one he had tried to start- He burned the names into his mind.

 

Yaxely, Mulciber, Avery, Crouch, Corvus,Tremblay, Fowler, Lee,Fortuni, Norton, Jugson, Snyde, Grimalkin, Goyle, Gibbon, Rosier,Rookwood, Carrow,Karkaroff, Lestrange, Jugson, Greengrass, Selwyn,Rowle, Travers, Macnair, Wilkes, Nott, Pettigrew.

 

He had a lot of work to do.

 

November 3rd, 1973 Hogwarts 6:00am

 

The morning was bright after the thunderstorm last night; the day was crisp, chilly, and invigorating as he waited for Hermione outside of her common room. He leaned back and forth on the balls of his feet, picking at the corners of his nails- inspecting them thoroughly before bringing them up to chew off the scratchy pieces. His mother would have ironed his hands if she saw him now. These earlier morning workouts had started to grow on him outside of getting to spend time with her, so much so he had kept up the routine outside the castle walls and couldn’t get through the day if he hadn’t bled off some excess energy in the morning. The stars had aligned, blessing him with a rare advantage. Today was the start of Hogsmeade trips, and he intended to ask her on a day she’d be hesitant to refuse him- who could turn a bloke down on his birthday? He winced; Hermione could be pretty ruthless when she wanted to be- he still snickered at Robertson when he crossed him in the halls. He had dared to insult Lily in passing, and she had nonchalantly aired 3 generations of his family’s…. discretions loudly in the hall. He knew she liked him enough, but today of all days he didn’t want to have to share her with every wizard and witch crammed into the castle walls. Undivided attention, he craved it. He had even been covertly blocking friends, rivals, and the like for nearly two weeks- preventing, threatening, and bribing those from asking her. He jolted; the harsh groan of the common room door opened to reveal Hermione. He smiled, moving to intercept her, but paused. Her magic was.. thick? It was warm but heady; instead of light caresses, it pressed against him firmly, aggressively. His head tilted as he observed her. She was graceful, as always, but now her movements were more predatory, more fluid than he had ever seen- her pink lips slowly pulled into a smirk as she stalked forward, eyes dilated, her golden irises thinned into a band, barely noticeable.

 

His heart was beating, his body heating as she got closer, something in him stilled, he didn’t want to startle her- didn’t want her to change her mind even though he had no clue what was happening. Her dainty hands found his chest; she let out a soft sigh as she pressed firmly before dragging them up. It was torture, true torture, as his body ignited. Slowly she moved, up, up, up, her nails digging in, scratching him just enough to sting before running past his shoulders and up his neck- he was shivering now, eyes closing as she explored. Those weapons, those lovely hands of hers, dove into the hair at the nape of his neck- fingers tightening as they tugged his face down. He was boneless as he allowed her to manhandle him into the position she desired. He was leaning down as she came forward, resting on the tips of her toes to press her face into the crook of his neck. She inhaled deeply before letting out a contented growl. Wait, growl? His eyes fluttered open; all he could see was her auburn locks as her nose tickled his neck. He nearly groaned.

 

“Merlin, why, why, why do you smell so good?” He could feel her lips caressing his skin as she mumbled out her question between deep breaths.

 

“Uh, yeah.”

 

He couldn’t get his brain to function; everything was firing and in the wrong direction as he spiraled, unable to focus on anything but her touches, her voice, the fact she was nearly pulling out his hair as she pulled him even closer to smell him. It was heaven. Another growl. He closed his eyes tightly as he tried to think- she would be mortified normally, she should be mortified, but she was currently rubbing her cheek against his exposed skin like she would die without doing whatever it is she was doing. He bit down on his bottom lip as hard as he could, drawing blood, as he forced himself to pull away from her- something wasn’t right. He couldn’t take advantage of her- with that in mind, he brought his hands up to hers and tried to untangle them from his hair- another growl as he got one hand loose, slowly pushing her backward. Intense, sharp pain bloomed in his neck- he yelped, forcefully pulling back and creating some distance between them. His hand snapping up to the right side of his neck, he pulled it away after feeling something wet- there on his hands was a tiny bit of blood. Merlin, she bit him. Fuck. He looked at her eyes, slightly glassy, and her hair was wild as a bit of blood rested on her lips. He couldn’t help but think she was magnificent. She gave him a bloody smile; this time he noticed the sharpness of her canines, while her blown pupils were shaped more like a slit than a true circle.

 

“You’ve been a sneaky little witch, haven’t you, princess?”

 

She tilted her head at him before trying to come closer.

 

“Ah, ah, I think we better keep some distance until this passes.” She ignored him; for every step he took back, she took two forward, her gaze intense as she eyed him. His heart was banging in his chest, his mind racing as he retreated. Thankfully there was a noise from down the hall; it was just enough of a distraction. She growled again, this time turning to investigate the noise. As soon as her head turned, he whipped out his wand and stunned her. She crumpled instantly; he rushed forward to catch her, gently cradling her as he propped her slumped form up along the wall. Stepping back, he paced as he pulled on his hair, trying to calm himself down, his eyes occasionally dragging across her distinct features- she looked so lovely. One hand let go of his hair and traced the marks on his neck; it stung in such a good way, he pressed harder. Eyes closing.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He paced.

 

“Okay, okay- you can do this. Just wake her up; if whatever it is, is still going on, just stun her again and take her to Pomfrey.” He slapped his cheeks twice before pointing his wand at her.

 

“Rennervate”

 

Muscles tensed, his heart bouncing around in his chest, banging against the walls of his ribs as he watched her twitch, closed eyes slowly moving open as she awoke.

 

“Ugh” Hermione rubbed her eyes, before moving to sit up against the wall. Her brows came together in confusion as she smacked her lips, her pink tongue coming out to run across her lips. Eyes narrowed as she brought her hand up and wiped her fingers against them. She gasped when she saw the blood, eyes snapping to him. Hands moving to rub the rest of his blood off her lips.

 

He sighed, rolling his neck as he lowered his wand.

 

“Sirius… what happened?”

 

He was stressed; he didn’t want to make her feel bad, didn’t want to admit he almost didn’t stop her, but his etiquette training took over, and he gave her a brilliant smile. He moved to sit alongside her on the wall, positioning himself so she couldn’t see his neck.

 

“Well, it seems like you have a secret you need to share with your best friend- because while I don’t mind being accosted by you, I do wish you were in the right mind to do it.”

 

RED. RED. RED

 

Every inch of her pale skin was covered in a deep blush as she curled up, hands coming to block her face.

 

“I assaulted you?!!?!?” she squeaked out.

 

“Um, more like appreciated my cologne- very enthusiastically.”

 

“Oh god, kill me now.”

 

He laughed as she seemed to shrink, pulling her hands away from her face; he marveled at her guilty expression, he devoured it. He wanted to see more, know more things about her, and see expressions he had yet to evoke in her. Now he could focus; he could see all the small differences that had changed. Her features were sharper, her pupils more slitted, her auburn hair had more of a red tint, more of a wild curl. Of course, her canines were slightly sharper, like he saw. Stunning, painfully so.

 

“I hurt you on your birthday! Your BIRTHDAY- Oh my god, I am so sorry.” She was starting to tear up- he wouldn’t have that; she didn’t need to feel guilty for it- especially not when he would be reliving this memory as one of his favorites.

 

“Well, princess, if you really want to make it up to me, you should fill me in on what exactly happened back there.” He leaned in, pressing his shoulder against hers- Her eyes dilated again.

“I will, I promise- oh boy, you do smell fantastic though.” Her nostrils flared as she leaned a little closer. He snapped his finger in front of her face, startling her before moving back a bit.

“Almost lost you again.”

 

She shook her head before scrambling to get up; she offered her hand.

 

“Um, thank you. This is a bit more difficult to handle than I thought it would be. But come on, I had planned more for your birthday than assaulting you - I promise.”

 

“And then you’ll tell me?”

 

“Yes, I promise.”

 

He couldn’t help the smile that blossomed. She had thought of him, planned for him- she always did every year, but it was more of a group project. He placed his hand in hers and allowed her to drag him along. Eventually they made their way to the seventh floor. He was a bit disappointed when they came to a stop in an empty hallway.

 

“Uh, what a…. Nice tapestry of trolls, princess.” He hoped she wouldn’t notice he didn’t actually care for art. The cheeky witch dared to roll her eyes at him.

 

“No, I promise Barnabas the Barmy isn’t what I brought you up here to see.”

“I mean that would be a bit.. Barmy, eh?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

 

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose before taking a deep breath.

“Okay, I need you to trust me, I know that might be hard after… all that.. But I want you to walk past the spot I’m standing three times- that’s very important, okay? Three times while thinking of something you need.”

 

“You have my trust no matter what you do, princess”

The tiny crease of worry and guilt in her brow softened- satisfaction radiated in his chest.

 

“But, alright, I’ll play along.”

 

Hermione stepped away from the wall, allowing him to take her spot before he followed her instructions.

 

I need a place where we can be alone, I need a place where we can be alone, I need a place where we can be alone.

 

As soon as he made his third pass, an intricate wooden door appeared- it was decorated in twisting wooden vines and runes.

 

“Well, bloody hell.”

“Siri, language.”

“Mysteriously appearing doors on my birthday warrant a little bad language, princess.”

 

She just smiled as she nodded her head toward the door.

 

“Well, go on, open it, birthday boy.”

 

He was curious as he stepped toward it, his hand grasping the heavy brass knob before pulling it open. There before him was a vast stretch of rolling green grass- in the middle of the field was a large willow, the same willow he remembered from his Uncle Alphard’s house. He looked up; there was a blue sky with a scattering of clouds that offered just enough coverage to be comfortable. He could feel it, feel the warm rays of sun on his skin, a harsh contrast to the cold chill of the castle at his back.

 

“This is insane, princess. What is this?” Hands pressed against his back, pushing him forward into the field. The door closed behind them- he could feel her walk around him, coming to stand in front. Opening her arms wide, she smiled.

 

“This is the Room of Requirement; if you think of something you need, and follow my directions, this room will become whatever you want.” She put down her arms, eyes closing as she pointed her face toward the sun.

 

“Gosh, this is beautiful. Where is it exactly?”

 

His eyes traced her sun-kissed face as she spun about.

 

“It’s a place I love to go when I need some time alone; this is at my favorite uncle’s house. This is the same tree and everything.”

He walked forward, grasping her hand to pull her along- he marveled at the feeling of wind, the smell of fresh grass and flowers, the satisfying crunch of the blades beneath his feet. He led them under the dangling leaves to the thick trunk of the willow.

 

Hermione wasted no time, lightly pulling her hand away to dig in her pockets; she pulled out her bag and wand. A quilt to sit on, she explained, and of course we needed snacks, as she pulled out a picnic basket, and then, to his surprise, she pulled out his stereobolt, to which she stammered out that James had been an invaluable thief and took it for her yesterday. She tutted and tsked while she set everything up, forcing him to sit on the quilt and lean back against the trunk before standing in front of him.

 

“So… I am so sorry for what happened earlier, but I wanted to surprise you- I guess I accomplished that, but anyway.” She was cute when she was nervous, he mused.

 

“Well- I need you to promise you won’t tell anyone? Can you do that?”

 

He really wasn’t paying attention as he mapped the rays of light that illuminated her face through the branches.

 

“Anything- of course I promise.”

 

He was glad he was sitting down; he yelped once again when a large red fox stood in her place. He determined that he would need to pay closer attention in the future.

 

“Absolutely bloody brilliant, princess.”

 

She made her way over to him, sniffing at his outstretched hand, before nipping the tips of his fingers. He laughed as she quickly ducked under to come sit in his lap, face rubbing against his chest. He hesitated before he gently ran his hands through the reddish-auburn fur; it was just as silky and smooth as her curls. He could feel a small vibration against his chest as she let out a plethora of low, throaty noises before jumping back out of his arms to change back.

She was blushing again as she waited on his reaction.

“Sneaky Witch, you did it! You’re an Animagus.”

 

“Yeah, finished it last night, I was working basically through the night to get the hang of the change- everything is so… intense right now. Sight, scent, hearing.. It’s just a lot more than I expected.”

 

“And I’m the only one you’ve told?”

 

She nodded her head.

His eyes sparkled in delight, before giving her a devilish smirk.

 

“You need to help me. I want to become one too- Think of it as payment for accosting me this morning.”

 

“I would have helped you either way, you prat!” She came to sit down next to him, lightly flicking his shoulder before rummaging into her bag once more to hand him a gift. He tore into the box she had handed him; inside it was a collection of new cassettes for his stereobolt. Leaning over to pull her close, he rested his head on her shoulder.

 

“This is perfect, thank you.”

 

“Happy Birthday Sirius”

 

They chatted for a bit, before she pulled out a book and patted her lap- he was overjoyed and laid down, sun shining through the cracks as music played around them.

 

“Princess?”

 

“Yes. Siri?”

 

“Stay with me- stay with me here.”

 

“Yes.”

 

She ran her hands across his brows, along his cheeks, and then back into his hair. This time he was the one purring.

 

“Are you sure this is all you want to do for your birthday?”

 

“There isn’t anything that could ever compare.”

 

He didn’t get to ask her to Hogsmeade, but he felt he got something a thousand times better.

Notes:

Hope you enjoy! There were some questions about how many chapters this story would be, and I have to be very honest with you- I have no clue. Again, I do have goals for each year, but how long it takes to flesh them out and actually tie it together... Well, that's an unknown for me. I do promise that each chapter is significant in its own way; I won't drag anything out just for the sake of it. But I'm finding this is a very organic process otherwise.

<3

Chapter 30: You've got a Friend

Summary:

Any good farmer knows, you might need to work with others to ensure a better harvest

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, This is my first fanfic.

---

“Geography has made us neighbors. History has made us friends. Economics has made us partners. And necessity has made us allies. Those whom nature hath so joined together, let no man put asunder.”― John F. Kennedy

---

 

November 10th, 1973 Hogwarts

 

Although the night sky was clear and the moon had not yet risen, there were enough shadows cast from the light of the castle along the edges, along the dark pockets that stretched across the grassy hills, along the angled nooks and jutting walls of the imposing school as she found refuge amongst the darkness in her journey to the Shrieking Shack. Each caress of the night breeze carried a multitude of scents- of warnings that her mind processed, her core vibrating as she felt the ancient magic of the land coil and flutter. There was more than one danger creeping behind the treeline of the forest. She could hear them rustling in the underbrush as she got closer and the soft voices mixing together as Professor Slughorn, made a comment on the weather and Remus fumbled for a response. She could smell the unease between both men, for the moon was stronger tonight, full and unhindered. Weaving along the edges of light, she crept forward, making her way ahead of them, treading lightly as she kept herself downwind,-changing only for a moment to stun the Whomping Willow before casting a quick finite once she passed the threshold. Once more she transformed; the small pattering of padded feet and clacking of sharp nails echoed off the narrow stone pathway leading to the Shrieking Shack. Golden eyes assessed the room; it was filled with broken furniture, claw marks, and blood- the heavy scent of iron caused the fur on the back of her neck to raise as she calculated all the changes she would need to make. The only reason she had waited was because she knew Remus would have been able to smell her. It was one thing to know he was a werewolf- he would have closed down tightly if he suspected she knew where he changed- what it looked like. The heavy thumps of tired limbs captured her attention, a raised ear swiveling toward the door. She rushed forward, her lithe form scurrying under the bed while she waited, her tail twitching as she fought to control her jittery nerves. It didn’t take long before a soft, heady scent invaded her nostrils, a light rumble of sound as she heard Professor Slughorn say his goodbyes and Remus’s grunts of affirmation. The clicking of a lock and the soft brush of magic as a spell was cast- she chose this moment to dart from under the bed, turning to jump up onto the mattress before turning back. Sitting up straight, hands folded tightly together in her lap as she waited for Remus to notice her. It was instantaneous.

 

Remus cracked his shoulders before taking a deep breath, his muscles instantly tensing before he whipped around in shock. Green eyes widened, pupils nearly pinpricks as he blinked as if he was trying to convince himself she was not there. It was only a few seconds before reality came crashing down. A wobbly, nervous smile painted her face as she waved to him. She could feel his existential dread.

 

“Wha… what… .. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, MIA?” He rushed to her, eyes wild as he peeked at the rising moon.

“OH MERLIN- you, you need to leave-Fuck you cant- fuck we’re trapped in here- oh no, fuck!” He was gripping her shoulders tightly, nails digging into her upper arms as he rambled, panic and anxiety taking over. She forced her face to remain neutral, even though she knew she would have bruises on her arms tomorrow.

 

“Languag-”

 

“Oh, Sirius will kill me- straight murder me—if anything happens to you. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

That raised her eyebrows.

 

“Whoa, whoa- just take a deep breath, okay? I’ll be fine, Remus, I promise. You’re on wolfsbane, and I have a way to ensure your other form won’t be tempted or bothered.” She tried to reassure him, her hands pressing lightly on his forearms as her words seemed to register. His whole body was trembling; a thick scent of fear and desperation oozed out of him now. It was nearly suffocating being so close to him- it was such a bitter scent. She crinkled her nose as she watched him continue to panic; he gripped her arms tighter.

 

“You don’t know that, Mia. Why, why, why would you do this? Shit, I need to start getting undressed. I’m dead, I’m dead.” He blushed as he stammered, eyes focused intently on the sky. She decided the only way he would settle was if she didn’t delay transforming any longer. He yelled as the skin beneath his hands turned into fur, letting go and falling on his butt as he stared up at the golden-eyed fox sitting on his bed from the floor.

“oh…”

 

“OH- you brilliant witch!” He gave her a shaky compliment.

 

“Still, you really shouldn’t be here. I can’t, if anything happened-” He was back to stammering, back to being thickly coated in fear and desperation.

 

She jumped down from the bed, rubbing against his legs before she nipped his hand lightly. He let out a broken chuckle, his shaky hands coming up to pet her. She nudged his hand, forcing him to continue scratching under her jaw until she was satisfied. Golden Eyes observed this slightly calmer form, deciding he was better. She jumped over his arm to head to a corner of the room. Curling up, she rested her face on her crossed paws, eyes intense as she watched him. Remus stood on shaky legs, pacing back and forth, mumbling under his breath as he stared out at the rising moon, a tawny gold slowly bleeding into his green eyes as they passed back and forth from the moon to her form. Higher and higher it raised, light leaking through the shack, luminous tendrils striking along his body, ensnaring him- the pacing stopped, muscles tense as the veins in his neck bulged, a gurgling, wet gasp ripped from his lips as he breathed deeply, dropping to the floor, his form twisting. Groaning loudly as bones creaked and cracked, hands rushed to cover his face, nails lengthening as he screamed. Violently thrashing on the floor as he changed- body twisting into unholy angles as bones broke and reshaped themselves. Magic burned and vibrated in the air as the curse came alive. She waited, eyes now closed, as she tried to drown out his agonizing screams.

 

The moon was centered high in the sky now, the shack completely bathed in white light. Remus shook his head as he eyed the shack from the floor, his muscles screaming as he moved his new body up. He breathed deeply as he sniffed the air; there was no fear, no anxiety, just contentment as he scented Hermione. He forced himself back, moving to the bed to curl on top of the mattress; he wanted as much distance as he could between them- his mind itched as he noticed her apple blossom scent, still strong, still embedded into the rumpled sheets he lay on top of—it helped soothe him as he curled up tighter. His pulse was beating harshly in his chest. Deep excitement burned under his blood as the other entity inside of him awoke, rumbling in the recesses of his mind.

 

“Pack”

 

“hmm”

 

“Pack here.”

 

“Hermione’s pack?”

 

“Yes, smell- mark pack. Play.”

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

There was a loud roar in his mind as the entity seemed to pace behind his eyes; the urge to get up and bury his face in her fur strengthened the longer the night went on, the entity in his mind chanted relentlessly. Smell, mark, play, pack. Eventually he couldn’t stand it any longer. Getting up slowly, he crept along, each step tense and light as he prayed to the gods that nothing would go wrong the closer he made it to her curled-up form. One golden eye peeked open as she lifted her head from her resting place, head tilting to the side; it was something he couldn’t help but think was cute. His chuckle came out in the form of a soft woof. Her scent drove the entity to claw against his control even more; she seemed to understand the warring going on in his mind because she got up and closed the gap, rubbing her face against his muzzle. Scenting him, marking him and herself. He couldn’t contain the deep purr that rumbled from his chest. Deep, heavy breaths as he rubbed his face over every part of her he could reach.

 

“Happy pack, play?”

 

“No play, not today., next time.. maybe.”

 

It was instantaneous; the agitation, the pressure on his mind, vanished. He fell to the floor, curling around her form, trapping her against his side as he huffed and grunted, trying to get closer. As the pain in his body lessened, he nuzzled her closer.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

Hey mate?”

 

Sirius stopped writing on his parchment, clicking the blue ballpoint pen aggressively as he looked at James- he was leaning against the window in their dorm, looking out at the full moon shining down. It was an especially clear night, not a single cloud in the the sky- stars shined brightly, twinkling against the backdrop of radiant moonlight. His mind connecting the dots as he had started to sweat. Hermione had not told him whether he could help James figure out Remus’s secret or not- He really didn’t want to tick her off anymore. She had been much feistier than usual, and while it was exhilarating to rile her up, to have her magic sparking against his skin, to see her cheeks flush, she would ignore him while she cooled off. It was never something that lasted longer than a few classes, but it was something that hurt worse than the enjoyment he got, and so he tried to avoid another reason.

 

“What’s up?”

 

Bushy black brows furrowed as James tilted his head up, looking at the roof of their dorm.

 

“Um nothing? But, I might be going a bit barmy.”

 

“Well I’m an expert on that- what is it?”

 

James brought his hand up, rubbing the side of his neck before moving his hand to cover his mouth-fingers tapping on his lips.

 

“Have you noticed that Remus- well he really only gets sick around the full moon? I’ve noticed it a couple of times, and sure enough… He’s not here tonight.”

 

Silence.

 

James looked at Sirius, eyes narrowing as he noticed the tense way he twirled his pen, the slight movement of his throat as he swallowed, and how he slowly angled his face away from his observant eyes. He was sweating too, excessively now. Guilty, Guilty, Guilty.

 

“Fuck me! I’m right, aren’t I?”

 

“James, you’re a handsome bloke, but I’ve got my sights set on someone much prettier-oof”

 

James rushed to tackle him, kneeing him in the side while he held him down. Sirius twisted and turned, rolling all over his now crumpled parchment.

 

“I’m right! I’m right! Confess what you know!” James bellowed.

 

“I’m not sure that I can, mate.” He shot James’s wide, pleading eyes.

 

“Fuck me, Hermione knows, and she knows you know. If she’s protecting Remus, it must be true! He’s a werewolf, isn’t he?” James shook him back and forth more aggressively, forcing out a grunt. He decided he had had enough badgering. Swiftly ripping his arms out of James’s hands, he captured both of James’s arms in a punishing grip, before forcing them down tightly to his side. James gasped, caught off guard by how fast it had all happened. Sirius pushed him back while he scooted to the edge of the bed- he inhaled lightly before easily picking him up off his bed, high enough that his feet dangled above the floor. A wide grin took over his face as he noticed James had gone silent. He walked over near James’s bed and tossed him. Laughing lightly when James bounced a few times before letting out a yelp. Bright hazel eyes stared up in disbelief while a bright blush stained his cheeks, his hand resting over his heart as he lay sprawled on his bed.

 

“Wow- um, mate, that was really impressive.” he gushed.

Sirius groaned, rubbing his face as he moved back to his bed, flopping down.

“I mean, really- Merlin help anyone on the receiving end of your bludgers- Shit, is that from the workout you’ve been doing with her every morning?” James popped back up into a sitting position, Black hair sticking up in every direction as hazel eyes trailed over his form, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

 

“Yeah, mate, she said it was something muggles did for their athletes. I’ll show you sometime if you’d like.”

 

“Oh, you’ll just show me? No invite to come work out with you and her?” James wiggled his eyebrows. Sirius couldn’t help the vicious snarl that left his lips; just the thought of another person intruding on one of the few times he got to spend with her unhindered, someone interrupting their routine- he hated it immensely.

 

“Yikes, okay, okay! Man, you’re whipped- Anyway, so it’s true?” James smiled as he raised his hands in surrender. Sirius mulled over his choices, James had obviously figured it out on his own, even before his body language gave him away. Hermione was a logical girl; she’d understand- hopefully.

 

“Yeah, he is. He doesn’t know I know, and well, you know now. But I doubt it’s something he wants to get around.” He cautioned. She had been very clear on maintaining the secrecy.

 

“No, no, I get it. Man, that’s wild. I wonder if there is anything we can do to help?” he questioned lightly. Sirius warmed, leaning back into his headboard- James, gave off some of the same warmth he had experienced with Hermione- they were both mother hens in a way, always sneaky in the ways they tried to help, or blatantly obvious when something wasn’t getting through.

 

A bright smile crossed his face as he looked at James picking at his jumper

 

“Well, now that you mention it…”

 

November 18th, 1973

 

Magic guided him through the halls, stalking quietly as he avoided prying painted eyes, disillusioned and silenced as each step took him higher and higher. It had taken weeks to perfect his stealthy ascension to the seventh floor; he hoped that he would already be there waiting for him. They had been working together, figuring out ways to get around the curse on the school magically; however, other than sincerely apologizing on the spot, there was no real way to get away with hexing the mini-Death Eaters in the castle. That certainly forced them to get creative. He finally made it to the seventh floor, pacing quickly- a dark black door appeared; he quickly gripped the silver handle and forced his way through.

 

A dark figure stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed behind his back. Around him were the glaring walls of his ancestral home’s gothic study- fireplace roaring as the firelight illuminated the harsh contrasts of the person’s form.

 

“Black, you’re late.” Severus grunted.

“Couldn’t be helped.” He huffed, nearly gagging- the mandrake leaf under his tongue was truly disgusting. He had been running behind because he had taken a bit of a detour to lock Avery in a broom closet- retaliation for having the audacity to use Hermione’s name today in potions. It was absolutely necessary- something he was sure Severus would understand.

 

He dropped his disillusion, casually walking into the room and throwing himself on an antique chaise, marveling that the room had even mimicked the slight burn mark on the cushion he had made when he was younger. It was a small blemish that blended seamlessly into the embroidered pattern. This father hadn’t spoken a word, not to him and certainly not to his mother- he had been ecstatic. Although it had given him the false confidence to play with a burning charm again, which ended in several disintegrated curtains, an empty belly, and a perpetual ringing in his ears months later in the form of his mother screeching.

 

“It worked.” Severus drawled.

 

Now that snapped him out of his contemplation, his head whipping up from the arm he had rested on to stare at the ominous smile that was plastered on Severus’s face.

 

“It.. worked?”

 

“Yes, I placed that cursed clock in their dorms; it ran about, unable to be stopped for hours last night and this morning before hiding itself. As you can see- no title.”

 

He was sitting up straight now, body tensed and primed as he rubbed his hands together- a malicious grin blossomed on his face as his mind reworked several ideas.

 

“So… we can curse an object, and as long as it never actually makes contact, it doesn’t trigger. I can work with that.” He jumped up, pacing in front of the fire. He and Severus had been working on a horrific piece of cursed creativity- a clock that ran, flew, and could disillusion itself, screeching amplified by a sonorous activated only once it sensed its targets were in deep sleep. Triggered into a state of dormancy once the intended targets were fully awake- a fine bit of psychological torture for budding blood supremacists. It also helped that they had stuck the most recent picture of Tom Riddle on the face. The idea was something Severus pushed for, mentioning some Muggle bloke named Pavlov and some other thing about “conditioning” and “association.” He really wasn’t paying attention at the time because Hermione had decided to torture him with a little blue number in the form of a tightly fitted knitted dress- she had looked absolutely divine the entire weekend.

 

“Okay, we keep the clock, make more of them, and release them on the grounds with different conditions. Maybe have a chase element? And the armors around the castle, you think we could charm those to startle them randomly?”

 

Severus stood still, black eyes followed his pacing form as he tapped a finger against his thigh.

 

“It’s … Possible, we would just need something of theirs, preferably with a piece of their magical signature; however, if they accidentally touch them, it might trigger and out us.”

 

His pacing continued. Severus watched, slightly nauseated by the chaotic energy he excluded. He was tempted to fire a sticking hex, just to keep the hyperactive Gyffindor still.

 

“Yes, yes, that might be an issue; the clocks seem more doable for a time. And the other thing?”

 

“Also works..”

 

He rushed over to Severus, clapping both hands on his shoulders, shaking him back and forth while ignoring the slight grimace on his face at the movement and close proximity.

 

“You brilliant, brilliant snake- so even if we slip some Muggle stuff into their drinks, it doesn’t count?”

“Obviously.” He pushed out in a low tone of exasperation. However, his eyes narrowed.

 

“That’s perfect, I’ve got a few elf friends that wouldn’t mind helping us, especially if I tell them it’s for Hermione- not sure what she did to the little buggers, but they’re nearly feral over her.”

 

Severus’s eyes were still suspicious, but a small smile threatened to appear- he squashed it down thoroughly.

 

“I’m sure you’d be the authority on … going feral over her, Black.”

 

Grey eyes glittered in amusement.

 

“No, no, my brilliant, not so beautiful, snarky friend, we’ve come together to seek mutual revenge- direct that sass to our enemies.” Sirius squeezed his shoulder one more time before walking back to his chaise, grunting as he settled in. Severus relaxed, happy he seemed to finally settle. Sirius pulled out his wand; with a quick swish, he conjured the arithmancy formula they’d used to create the first clock, the bright golden script floating above his head. He liked working with Severus, he was quick, just as quick as Remus when they worked things out, except he lacked the primp and propriety Remus had to be coerced to drop for certain pranks.

 

“Alton”

 

With a pop, the eloquently dressed elf appeared.

“Yes, young master?”

 

“Can you give this to Grandfather?” He handed a rolled-up piece of parchment he pulled from his outer robe and placed it into the tiny, weathered hands.

 

“And, can you bring back a hundred small clocks, preferably terribly gaudy and ugly? You know exactly what type I’m talking about. The ones you’d find in Auntie Druella’s house.” He flashed an innocent smile, which seemed to offend the little elf. Alton hissed a bit, causing Sirius to lean back slightly. A deep chuckle forced itself out of Severus’s lips.

 

“Yous be causing more mischief for Master.” Alton’s bony finger pointed in his direction.

“Now, now, I made Grandfather a promise; I’m even enlisting a sneaky snake. See.” He pointed to Severus, who just deadpanned as the elf scrutinized his form. The elf hobbled over to Severus, walking around him once, then twice, before stopping to pat his leg.

 

“This one will do, very sneaky.” With a snap of his fingers, a large box of truly hideous clocks appeared as he vanished. Sirius jumped up again, walking over to kneel next to the box. Severus groaned; he was back to being twitchy. The younger Black was much easier to be around, much more… Settled and predictable, he mused.

 

“Well, come on, come on, we need to work out an element to where those Mini Death Eaters are the only ones hearing these things if we will be dropping them all over.” He cajoled, hands waving over the sour snake enthusiastically.

 

Severus nodded as he knelt down, crinkling his nose at the first clock he picked up; it was decorated with barely dressed female trolls. He turned a bit green when he noticed the one next to it featured the same, except this time it was some morbid version of naughty house elves. They worked for nearly an hour getting through the modifications they needed. By the time they were done, only 2 clocks were good to be released- both already labeled with the menacing face of Tom Riddle surrounded by varying levels of creature deviancy. Truly horrid things.

 

“Fuck, this is going to take some work.” Sirius leaned back on his hands as he sat on the floor. Severus’s nostrils flared- eyes suspicious once more. Each time the scatterbrained Black opened his mouth, there was a distinctive smell he couldn’t quite place.

 

“I’ve got the other thing we can use; I’ll explain it before we go.” He brandished his wand as a small cloth bag made its way over to them. He plucked the bag from the air, pulling out another clear bag with several tan circles inside. He opened it and pulled one out before setting it on the ground, then he leaned further to his open notebook, ripping a page out before methodically folding the paper into what looked like a thick V no larger than a knut. Black eyebrows raised in curiosity as he watched Severus take the circle and stretch it over his fingers, placing the small V against the band.

 

“I think a demonstration would be the easiest to explain.” He smirked before pulling back and letting go. It was instantaneous, the sharp stinging pain in his arm where it hit.

He squealed loudly, undignified, as he fell back in shock. This time the deep, throaty laughing Severus held back burst forward. Sirius glared at him with a very distinctive pout.

 

“Bloody fucking hell- That’s..”

He waited for a title to appear; the little device must have been magic, but nothing came. He rubbed the abused spot on his arm while sneering at Severus’s beaming smile.

 

“Well, what the fuck was that?” he questioned, a bit miffed.

 

“It’s just a rubber band and paper; muggles play war games and call it hornet. Basically a non-magical version of a stinging hex.”

 

“Vicious little creative shits- that’s right up my alley. So, these can be used anywhere?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“This day is just getting better and better.” Sirius rushed to pick up the bag and fold his own paper in the way Severus had. Determined to get him back, they spent the next thirty minutes in an all out war. His Quidditch skills gave him an advantage; sending projectiles into moving objects was his specialty, but the snake surprised him. He was one hell of a shot, giving as good as he got. Bruised and decidedly sore, both boys gave each other a blinding smile as they packed up. Finally, Finally they were able to make some moves on the horrid wretches that had infiltrated the school. Something that would fill the gaping chasm that had opened up in his chest- the one that craved violence, craved retaliation every time he heard a nasty comment or saw a nasty look directed at Hermione. He knew she didn’t like bullies, knew this was slightly underhanded, but the thought, the mere suggestion that one of these bastards could hurt her in any way, made him want to strangle someone. What was a little harassment compared to death? She’d be very unhappy with him if he ended up in Azkaban. So this was, essentially, ensuring her happiness.

 

As he made his way back down to the Gryffindor common room, he couldn’t stop the smile that came every time he messed with the rubber band.

 

Cursed Clocks, Nair, Laxatives, Psychological Warfare, and Muggle Stinging Hexes

 

War games indeed.

 

 

November 19th, 1973 Grimmauld

 

The morning sun had barely begun to peek between the cracks in the clouded sky; it was early enough that Orion felt he was reasonably clear to relax now that the house was empty of all the other inhabitants. Walburga had even left for the Evans; she had mentioned something about tea and observing the Muggles- Andromeda and the baby would be there too. Of course she always reiterated that it was to be better informed of their weaknesses and to educate the lowly creatures. Essentially reconnaissance. He had decided not to comment on how excited she looked, nor on how she had primped and dressed more carefully than normal, or on how she had decided to bring the “good tea.” Just as she had decided to be gracious enough not to comment on the face paint he had come home with after Louis Evans invited him to something called football, nor comment on the new collection of Muggle beers and liquor that had magically found themselves in his study. It was a delicate balance of intentional obliviousness and stoic support. He settled in the parlor, his Earl Grey steaming in one of his favorite cups, the prophet tucked neatly next to the tray of lemon shortbread he found delicious. Finally, one calm day.

 

He breathed deeply before picking up his tea, bringing it to his lips before taking a savoring sip. Eyes closed as he slowly relaxed his muscles, setting down his tea, he reached to pick up one of the lemon shortbread biscuits when the roaring sound of the floo invaded the sacred silence he had been enjoying.

 

Groaning, he quickly sat back, his body snapping into a more formal position before masking his face.

“Orion, son, where are you?” A distinctive timbre growled out. He sighed deeply.

 

“In the left parlor, Father,” he belted out, his body slightly relaxing. His father was manageable, although he contemplated the benefits of locking down the floo.

 

“This bloody house— Ah there you are, son.” Arcturus smiled as he entered the parlor, quickly making his way over to the table. Before he even finished sitting down, Alton appeared, snapping his fingers to ensure that a new cup of tea and a separate plate with some of Orion’s lemon shortbread were set in front of Arcturus. The little elf eyed the setup, nodding in delight at the angle and temperature of the tea before vanishing. Arcturus barely registered the actions, before picking up his tea, taking a sip, pulling out a piece of rolled-up parchment, and waving it in Orion’s field of view. Orion eyed the diminished shortbread in dismay.

 

“You’ll want to see this.” He waved it more aggressively, gesturing for Orion to take it. He pondered, ruminating over the fact that he would probably not want to take it, seeing as anything that had happened around his family these past few years had given him more greys than he was comfortable with. His father continued to wave the parchment at him; he wondered how long it would take before he decided to chuck it at him. Deciding against taking that route, he leaned forward to take it.

 

Hopefully it was something entertaining, not stressful. As he unrolled it and read the contents, he decided that he would be locking the floo down in the near future.

 

 

Grandfather,

 

Hey, so can you do your menacing Ancient and Noble House thing and take out some of these families?

 

Yaxely, Mulciber, Avery, Crouch, Corvus, Tremblay, Fowler, Lee, Fortuni, Norton, Jugson, Snyde, Grimalkin, Goyle, Gibbon, Rosier, Rookwood, Carrow, Karkaroff, Lestrange, Jugson, Greengrass, Selwyn, Rowle, Travers, Macnair, Wilkes, Nott, Pettigrew.

 

I’ve already contacted our solicitors here and some trading agents abroad and discontinued any further investments or contractual obligations. You might need to figure out the logistics of how that’ll work out- Okay, thanks.

 

-illustrated thumbs up-

 

-Sirius Black III

 

 

That little shit

 

Arcturus belted out a laugh, deep and hearty, as he fought not to spill his cup of tea. Orion realized he had said that out loud rather than just thinking it. He could feel the blood pumping in his veins as a headache started to form.

 

“I’ve already contacted the people he mentioned; don’t fret, he did… a surprisingly thorough job. Even branched out into investment sectors I have been trying to get a foot in, in order to compensate for the profit adjustments.”

 

Orion sat dumbfounded.

 

“Wait. Sirius did? My son Sirius? The boy who took every opportunity to get out of tutoring and business meetings?”

 

Arcturus leaned back in his chair, a gleeful smirk on his face.

“Yes, that’s the one.”

 

“Still… My son… The one that nearly got us excommunicated from Russia, due to nearly destroying important historical artifacts in a fit while calling the wizarding representative a bloody cunt?”

 

Arcturus raised his eyebrows, lips pointing down in surprise.

 

“Well, I didn’t hear about that, but yes.”

 

Orion blinked slowly.

 

“There are also these that you might want to see…” Arcturus smiled as he pulled out a thick stack of parchment, setting it down on the table- he slid the stack over.

 

Tightly pressed lips slowly eased and came apart in disbelief. Contracts of fealty, House resolutions and inquiries, alliances, sworn neutrality—the list continued. There were over one hundred and fifty different neutral or light-leaning families, a culmination of groups in Britain and abroad that he had negotiated with to secure votes, influence, and the like.

 

“What is this?”

 

“This is his name sake- the insatiable drive, Lepus, Maera, Svana, Orthros, loyal and driven to a fault. He has likely finally understood the current political and social climate. Considering who he has a bond with.. Well, I think this is only a whisper of what he might actually be capable of. Orion, this.. this is incredible.”

 

The dog star had begun to shine brightly.

Chapter 31: Just My Imagination (Running Away with Me)

Summary:

Unruly seasons can decimate crops

Notes:

disclaimer: I don't own anything, This is my first fanfic.

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“Live the Life of Your Dreams: Be brave enough to live the life of your dreams according to your vision and purpose instead of the expectations and opinions of others.”― Roy T. Bennett

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November 19th, 1973 Evans Cottage

 

Radiant warmth, raining down from the sky, permeating the very air she breathed—it was an inexplicable sensation as the ambient magic of the cottage danced around, mixing with the golden light, pressing against her senses in a comforting shawl that seemed to settle over her body. She had never known that magic could feel like this, that a home could feel like this- now she knew what had attracted her wayward son, for even she felt the desire to stay, to linger in its excellence. Walburga lightly brushed off the floo powder with one hand while gently holding a box of Black tea. It was a brisk blend of Assamica varieties, a delightful combination from India and East Africa, something that was absolutely divine with the right mixture of milk.

 

A stout elf, darker than normal, with features more defined than she was used to, was dressed in fine emerald robes- a pin with the Evans crest shined brightly against his shoulder. He stood stoically as he waited on her; once he had her attention, he bowed low before stepping to her, hands outstretched to accept the box she held. It had startled her; his movements were more elegant than she thought an elf was capable of Kreacher nor Alton could move about with such fluidity.

“Mistress Rose is with another guest in the greenhouse, I am to take you to them, honorable Lady Black.”

 

Was this truly an elf? It spoke like a wizard—properly, more articulate.

 

“Yes, thank you— and your name elf?” A finely shaped black eyebrow raised.

 

“Nox, Lady Black.”

“You are Hermione’s Elf.” The tone was light but held a hint of curiosity.

 

“Mistress Hermione has been gracious enough to accept Nox, I am her steward.” Black eyes flashed with pride as the elf gave her a fanged grin. She was delighted; such a fine, vicious little elf spoke of an exceptional bonder. Perhaps the blood wasn’t as muddy and unrefined as she had been led to believe.

 

“Yes, truly an honor. Lead me to them.” There was a hint of amusement in her tone as she held her back straight, tilting her chin up as her eyes devoured the characteristics of the house. Nox bowed deeply before turning and leading her down the hallway to the greenhouse- she noticed the light, airy colors, the modern twists and furniture. Definitely Muggle; she had seen replicas in the wizarding markets in France, and it was refreshing enough to consider redecorating one of their villas in the style. The home wasn’t as large as some of the Black properties, but each inch of it was bathed in strong, vibrant magic. Every step she took tickled the soles of her feet, as if she was walking on a lake of magic that rippled and splashed against her. Her eyes drifted lower, her form relaxing as the magic enveloped her. Was this what witches and wizards of old had felt when the land was richer in magic? Was this what most wizarding homes had originally felt like? Even Grimmauld, while sentient enough, felt subdued, felt stifling, and dreary. As if the magic that sustained it trickled out, greedily consumed by the starving home. In the end, only scraps of magic were left for the inhabitants.

 

Nox snapped his fingers, large glass French doors opened to reveal a sweet scent, delicious and enchanting as it pulled her forward through the threshold, tugging and enticing as it guided her through a vibrant collection of carefully maintained flowers. It was an incredible combination of Muggle and magical blends, harmonizing so spectacularly that her eyes rejoiced each and every time she passed over a new group. What the greenhouse lacked in size it made up for in splendor and wildness; it was truly beautiful. Melania would brood for months in jealousy- she would ensure she did after sharing the memory she had of this garden. Payback for how she flaunted her new limited-edition robes, unable to be replicated since the original creator blew himself up shortly after. Spell experimentation gone wrong, or so they say.

 

As they rounded a corner, a white table came into view, Rose Evans sat elegantly in a fine wicker chair, head thrown back as she let out a melodious laugh that was infectious. Soft classical music was playing in accompaniment. Walburga took her time to observe the Muggle woman. Yes, she had seen her and had a few brief conversations, but now, she was relaxed, unhindered by expectation or caution. Luxurious red hair, pale sun-kissed skin, and sparkling green eyes, situated on delicate features. If she had been born into any wizarding family, or had been a Muggle-born herself, she would have been the jewel of many seasons. A temptation even for those in the most blood-purist families, something any mother would desire for her daughters.

 

While Rose did not bear any sons, she had numerous daughters of exceptional quality. Her mother, Irma, had even quietly praised Druella, for at least she had daughters that would be envied—would be fought over. Strong sons or beautiful daughters—anything else was viewed contemptuously in their circles. Andromeda looked stunning as always, her black curling hair lush and shining under the light, her expression soft as she laughed along with Rose. Although she maintained her posture, it was more relaxed than she had ever seen her. Healthy and immeasurably happy, it seemed. Little Nymphadora was now being peppered with kisses on her round cheeks as Rose cooed and gushed over her rapidly changing hair and light giggling.

 

Nox bowed, lightly clearing his throat before announcing her arrival.

 

“Mistress Rose, Lady Black has arrived.” He gestured back to her.

 

Rose turned, eyes twinkling in delight as she quickly, yet carefully got up from her seat, readjusting Nymphadora to her hip as she walked around her chair.

“Lady Black! Thank you for coming. Please come, come sit. We were just letting little Dora show off a bit this morning.” Her soft smile directed at Dora caused another round of giggles.

Walburga melted; it had been so long since she had held a baby, so long since she was blessed with soft giggles and uncontrollable smiles of adoration. She had only been able to hold her for a moment after she was born; there had been too many equally eager hands to savor it. Afterward she had not been able to get their schedules synced enough to spend some bonding time with her niece or her child. Looking at Andromeda, who had tensed a bit, she silently pleaded with her eyes before daring to speak it into existence.

 

“Thank you for having me, I- May I hold her?”

There was a shift, a shock of surprise before delight blossomed on Andromeda’s face.

 

“Certainly, just be mindful; she’s decided that randomly trying to launch herself back is the most entertaining thing at the moment. Gave Ted and me quite the scare when she nearly banged her head against a doorframe.”

 

A bright, blinding smile took over her face as she slowly took Dora from Rose; the muscles twitched lightly, unused to such movements. She gave the other woman an appreciative glance, her free hand hesitating slightly before coming to squeeze hers; there was nothing but warmth and soft, smooth skin. Holding Dora tightly in her arms, she could feel her heart beat; it was fluttering in delight. The lovely child tilted her head, giving her face a very intense look before a sly, toothless smile appeared. Instantly her features morphed to match hers. She inhaled deeply; she looked so much like Sirius did when he was a baby. It dragged her back, her mind spiraling and diving into so many moments, so many memories of years past.

 

“Just like that mischievous boy- Sirius thought it was absolutely thrilling. Your grandfather Pollux actually did drop him. I’d warned him, but he had scoffed and decided he would lightly hold him in his lap with one hand. You know how wizards can be. Sure enough, the moment his eyes were off him, Sirius threw himself right out of his hands— belted out the loudest laugh I’ve ever heard from a baby right after seeing all the shocked faces. Thankfully an elf caught him before he landed.” She gossiped as she slowly slid into the chair held by Nox.

 

He snapped his fingers, gently sliding it forward as she adjusted with Dora in her lap. Leaning down, she brushed her nose against the baby’s before kissing her cheeks, taking in the familiar smell of newborn that had not yet worn off. Her father’s words ringing in her ears: dirty half-bloods, abominations. Yet there was nothing dirty, nothing impure about the lovely child in her arms.

 

Both women startled, eyes wide, before they broke out into laughs. Rose giggled before placing her hand on her chest.

 

“Oh, you must have had a terrible time. My Petunia surprisingly was like that for a while; Lily was a bit more cautious, but Hermione, thankfully, was an excellent baby- although the trade-off was her surprising us at every turn with everything else.”

 

Walburga smiled at her.

 

“You’ve met my son.”

“Oh dear, my little cousin is living up to the Black unpredictability, isn’t he?” Andromeda chimed in, eyes glinting.

 

“I think you would be very familiar with what type, Andy. However, this time there is a bond.” she whispered, eyes closing as she gently cuddled Dora into her chest.

 

Now startled, Andy, she leaned back, mouth opened in shock, something that confused Rose, her eyes narrowing at both witches.

“What do you mean, Lady Black?”

 

“Please just call me Walburga.” She casually stated as she adjusted Dora once more, the little girl wrapping her hands in her hair as she bounced her on her thigh.

 

“Nox, do you see it as well?” Walburga questioned the elf who was standing silently in the corner.

 

“Yes, Lady Black, threaded gold, magic weaved tightly as it burns brighter each day.”

Andromeda covered her mouth, tears coming to her eyes as she held back a laugh of joy. Dora giggled more, her hand tugging harshly on her hair as she slapped the table. Walburga, masked the pain as she stealthily pried her tiny fingers from their grip on her hair, choosing to offer a small strip of her outer robe, which was accepted instantly.

 

“It is something sacred in our world, bonds, connections between others. One can go their entire lives and not find someone to bond with; some create their own through marriages, through friendships, but every once in a while—magic will bless individuals with an instinctual connection, beings attuned to each other, complimented in every way.”

 

Rose’s eyes widened as she started to understand what Walburga was hinting at.

 

“Sometimes this connection results in marriage, a love that defies time and space, or so it is written; other times, lifelong companionship and unending loyalty and dedication. Which, however, depends on the ones bonded. Soulmates. They can certainly be with others, but they will never feel the same completeness or satisfaction as if they had paired with their bondmate.”

 

She leaned down to kiss Dora again; this time her black hair adopted curls, her features fracturing to mimic a combination of her and Rose’s. It stole her breath; her mind conjured images of young children, grandchildren so beautiful with the mix of Hermione’s and Sirius’s features. Golden eyes, sharp yet soft Black features—auburn and black curls. Infectious laughter filling the halls of Grimmauld as the once dull tapestry was made vibrant once more, threads gaining the colors they had lost over time. A withered tree revitalized.

 

“I will warn you now, just as I hope you do not think poorly of me for when I warn your daughter. We Blacks have a characteristic bred over centuries as stewards of lords and then eventually as lords ourselves. For even without magical bonds, we are loyal creatures. Tenacious and vicious but loyal. Once we find our person, there is nothing that will hinder our devotion, our intensity.” Her harsh eyes landed on Andromeda.

 

“We will do whatever it takes to ensure their safety, their desires, and our own are met. For there is nothing more cataclysmic to your world and ours than a determined Black. It is why we are feared, why we are coveted in our society. And my son is more Black than any before him, and so the patriarch has chosen to stand behind him- bringing all of the might of our Most Ancient and Noble House.”

 

Rose paled further, her mind racing as the weight of her daughter’s connection settled. With shaky hands, she picked up her tea. Nox snapped his fingers; it heated just right before she took a sip. The silence was heavy for a moment. Walburga shrunk a bit; she had not wanted to taint the easygoing atmosphere she had arrived to, but it was something that needed to be said, to be understood. She was a Muggle, fresh to their world, their history, and so she needed the Evans to understand the danger, the risks- while this seemed cute and light, their children’s affections, the ramifications, would shatter the already turbulent tides.

 

“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Evans.” She tried to lighten the mood, handing Dora back over to Andromeda. Both women shared a knowing look.

 

“Please call me Rose.” She set down her tea.

 

“And it’s not mine.”

 

Walburga, surprised, leaned back, picking up the cup Nox arranged for her, her eyes noticing the perfect blend of milk and Black tea before sipping it. It was fantastic.

 

“What is not yours? The home?”

 

Rose sat up straighter, eyes sharp and piercing.

 

“No, this home is Hermione’s. She bought it with the money she made, warded it with the specialist she hired, and imbued her magic into the land and all its protections. Louis and I are blessed we have such a generous and loving daughter.”

 

Walburga’s pulse raced, eyes widening as she read between the lines.

It was not the Evans who needed to realize what a force the Blacks were.

 

For her, daughter was just as powerful, as tenacious, just as vicious, and unstoppable as any Black.

 

Her eyes settled on the fanged smile of Nox, black eyes piercing as he oversaw their needs.

 

Exceptional bonder indeed.

 

December 10th, 1973 Hogwarts

 

The stars were her guide as the false night sky illuminated her pack. Steadily, she placed another potions kit and additional clothes into the bottomless bag. The curtains surrounding her were magicked shut, spelled to repel, confuse, and deter anyone from investigating whether she was there. The map of horcruxes lay open as she eyed each and every one. Still unmoved, still exactly where she expected them to be. It sent a rush of relief through her; she would obtain another tonight. The Lament box sat next to the map; it was an accurate name. She had stolen it from a series she watched with her father, Richard Granger- Hellraiser. The Lament Configuration, a box that served as a gateway between the human world and demons, a symbolic reference to unchecked desires, intersections of pleasure and pain, and addictive, corruptive natures— a fitting enough place to house the dark and twisted results of Riddle’s desires and ambitions to conquer death.

 

She had never really seen Regulus in her past life; of course, there were crude portraits on the tapestry, damaged photos she had to piece together in Grimmauld, vague retellings she had overheard from Sirius and Remus. Nothing, nothing prepared her for seeing him in person. He was a softer, smaller version of Sirius. Timid yet strong, unyielding in many ways but just a boy who desired to be known, to make others happy, a boy who she could see loved just as deeply and ardently as Sirius.

 

There was a tickling, nearly burning feeling in her chest, one that just made the wild, instinctual part of her want to bite Sirius, something that she had been so confused about when she watched the two brothers interact. Sirius would have an impossibly soft look on his face as he talked to his brother; he’d finally settle, focused and sure, as he guided him on something, or the way his low timbre caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand when he was reassuring Regulus. She had used all of her self-control to prevent the deep purr that built in the back of her throat that day. Red and rosy, she had tried to hide her reaction, but Sirius unfortunately caught on and started using that tone every time he helped a younger student. She had yet to figure out why it gave her such a deep satisfaction—the sight of so many students looking up to him. She ran her hand across the box’s edges.

 

Regulus was Sirius’s brother, Sirius was hers, and so she had been haunted every night with morbid dreams of black hands and anguished cries. Of Sirius’s crumpled form, howling in pain and tearful. It crushed her. She had worked tirelessly between the Animagus transformation and school to test her theories, to come up with a solution that wouldn’t endanger anyone.

 

“Nox”

 

He appeared, bowing, standing upon her mattress. She collected the last of her items and stuck the bag to her body. Dressed in all black, a form-fitting turtleneck with long sleeves, black jeans, and dragon hide boots. She had mail-ordered the clothing; the seamstress seemed confused but enthusiastic to commission each piece. She had paid extra for them to be imbued with protective magic and a higher resistance to damage. Upon her arm was a wand holster, two wands pressed tightly together. One was her ivory-colored aspen wand, the other a black ebony wand she had found in the room of hidden things. It had worked wonderfully for her; there was no hesitation, no resistance. Not even when she first used it to light the vanishing cabinet on fire; thankfully, the trace was gone, and so it became her spare when she needed to do something less than savory.

 

“Thank you for coming. I hope all is well,” she checked him over.

 

“Yes, Master, I am well and eager to assist you.”

She gently grasped his hand before adjusting his pin; it had slightly moved off center. She could feel the bond between them, feel his excitement and adoration. Had Harry been able to feel Dobby like this? Even if it was only a fraction, did he feel when he died?

 

The little elf grinned, eyes burning.

 

“It is just like we practiced; do you need to see the memory again?” She questioned.

 

“No, I have already gone ahead; I will be able to take you in or out.”

 

“And the failsafe?”

 

He pulled a tightly bound item from his robe pocket; wrapped in cloth, he slowly unveiled a pen- a portkey in the event something happened. He rewrapped it and placed it back in his robes.

 

She smiled; elf magic was something that still baffled her; it was insanely powerful. No amount of warding could prevent them if they were truly determined. Even specific curses targeting them could be overridden if their masters gave a direct command. She had learned that from Kreacher in her past life. Nox, however, was able to apparate to places he had never been, only using the memory of a memory. One lonely night in the tent, when the hunger was unbearable, Harry had tried to distract her by suggesting she practice legilimency with him. It spiked her desire to learn, focusing her mind just enough to ignore the stabbing pains in her gut. She had seen what happened in the cave, relived the horrific cries of Dumbledore and Harry’s terror as the inferi surrounded them. Her dreams of Regulus dying were much more vivid and realistic than she had ever wanted, because she knew, she could see what it would have been like.

 

“Thank you, Nox. Remember, I command you to take us out of there if the Inferi start to rise; do not allow yourself to get hurt. I cherish you deeply.”

 

His ears fluttered as he blinked slowly, his hands grasping her tightly before nodding and apparating them.

 

With a crack she landed on the harsh stone; the first thing she noticed was the stillness, the oppressive silence that grated on her nerves. Then the dank, unpleasant smell, a combination of sea and decay- it burned her nose. Nox had conjured a glowing orb, illuminating a twisted basin of crystallized stone in white light. There was an eerie green glow that surrounded them. She slowly walked toward it, eyes scanning the vast black waters that surrounded them. Inside was the locket; a calmer version of the Emerald potion covered its form. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply; it was unsettling how everything was dampened here. There was a wrongness that permeated everything, her magic twisting tightly in her core.

 

She stood back from the basin, pulling her ebony wand from the holster before widening the opening of her bag before setting it down on the harsh stone. She swished her wand; out of the bag came a large earthen form, packed tightly with clay and bones baked together in a human-like shape, as she rested it flat on the ground. With another flick of her wand, she pulled out a large bag of crushed dragon bone, a basket of aswinder eggs, a collection of gold, goblin-forged silver and iron, herbs, and occamy feathers. She moved quickly, the pattern engraved into her mind as she spelled runes into the stone, filling them with crushed dragon bone, placing the herbs and other ingredients in pointed locations- north, south, west, east.

 

Once everything was set, she pulled a dagger from her bag. Standing over the earthen form, she cut her palm, allowing the blood to drip onto it. It was red and gold; the sparkling pieces in her blood stood out when illuminated. Across the head, down to the heart, dripping slowly across the surface of the figure.

 

“Sanguinem sanguinis magicae mater caput vocationis fructum shard vitae sanguine meo offerre mea virtus mag- medium vitae meae.”

 

She chanted, slowly dropping to her knees as she allowed more blood to mix with the crushed dragon bone. There was a ripping, tearing sensation as the blood started to pull from her palm, each rune now blazing red as a hazy glow thick with magic vibrated within the cave. She pulled back her hand harshly, still continuing to chant as Nox rushed to heal her palm. The magic was wild and thick, vicious as it cut into her, thousands of pinpricks against her skin, against her mind- so similar to the Cruciatus that she nearly screamed. She bit down harshly on her lip, hoping the distraction would help. Nox was gripping her shoulder tightly, eyes scanning the black waters as she continued.

 

There was a crackling sound as the clay form began to crack apart, the seams shining with red light as pieces fell apart. There was a harsh howl as the magic reached its pinnacle- turbulent darkness, harsh cries echoed in a haunting melody. Hermione closed her eyes, breathing deeply as she waited; she could feel the tether, the slight thread of magic that pulled from her filling the form. The chest caved in, and through it a pale hand arose. Silence. It was a familiar hand, one she had seen every day of her life; it rose and rose, pulling itself up and out of its earthen cradle.

 

Pale, supple skin; dark auburn hair with golden highlights; familiar features, familiar freckles- the only starting difference was the eyes. Instead of a firewhiskey gold, they were clear and soulless. There, standing in the ruin of her earthen cradle, was a homunculus- born from her blood, her magic, naked and unblemished. Her mind screamed, the otherness, The uncanny recognition of herself tortured her. It moved with such grace, yet everything screamed unnatural. It was the same, the same feeling she had the first time she had accomplished this. A deep wound in her chest that was flayed open, bruised, and pulsing. Standing on shaky legs, she beckoned the homunculus forward. Long, slender legs moved, stepping over the arrangement and coming to stand next to her. She vanished the evidence of the ritual, her pulse beating harshly in her chest. Mind hazy and off-kilter as she tried to recenter herself, tried to occlude. It took a few minutes, her mind settling in a numb iciness.

 

“The blood-replenishing potion master.” Nox diligently handed her an uncapped vial. She took it with quivering hands as she quickly drank it.

“Thank you, Nox.” She sighed; her dizziness was going away. Nausea, however, was rising as the wild part of her could sense the twisted magic. Wrong, wrong, wrong. She could smell it too, the wild part of her that had awoken once she had become an animagus. It was a heady, bitter tang, so sharp it caused her to bare her teeth. Dark Magic.

 

She opened her eyes, trailing across her own form. She had performed a taboo, a blood magic and alchemy of the highest order. Azkaban or death would be her only option if anyone found out she had done this. Not once but several times. But it was necessary; it was the only way she had found could keep others safe. Eyes burning, pupils black as she raised her wand.

 

“Imperio”

 

The homunculus relaxed further; a slight, dazed expression crossed its face- her face.

 

“Drink, until there is no more; do not step away from the basin.”

 

Bile rose in her throat as she watched herself drink the emerald fluid- There were no memories of despair to pull from, no desires or emotions to cling to, to drag out, and so she waited with Nox in silence. Her mind repeating, it was the only way, the only way. It had to be consumed, had to be taken in, by something alive, and she would never use an elf, never torture an animal or creature, never jeopardize another witch or wizard. And so, she made it- something alive, but not, that could consume but not be consumed by it.

 

Her magic screaming in rage at the defilement of its vessel, the wrongness of the Horcrux. The dark magic that invaded this space. It was torturous. A pale hand stopped, slowly coming to rest against its thigh- She moved forward, keeping space between her and her homunculus. She never touched them; her mind struggled not to recognize it as another person. She peered around her shoulder. The potion was gone. She quickly picked up the Horcrux, the insidious feeling of dark magic bombarded her as she made her way to her bag. Pulling out the lament box, she quickly unlocked it and placed the locket down next to the diadem. Closing and warding the box once more- the pain in her chest lessened.

 

The oppressive darkness of the cave still lingered, but it was more manageable now. Wordlessly, Nox handed her the replica. She got up and placed it back on the altar before pulling out a dark green potion. She held it up to the light- Emerald liquid swirled, glittering pieces of silver trickled throughout. It had been grueling to recreate, but Snape, had taught her privately before everything went to hell. She uncapped it and poured it over the replica. Just the image of it sitting in the liquid pulled forth Harry’s memories, the screams, and the dreams once more. She may not have drunk the potion, but she was being tortured just the same. Once Riddle was dead, she vowed to return and destroy everything within this cave.

 

She stepped away, walking closer to Nox before she lifted her wand once more.

 

“Go, step into the water.”

 

Her form moved, elegantly walking straight into the shallows; it only took a moment before the black hands raised, only seconds before necrotic nails and limbs tore into the false body- There was no blood, just the harsh sound of its body cracking, clear and sharp like porcelain being shattered as the inferi ripped her homunculus apart, the magic fading, the ingredients reverting as the vessel split. Nox quickly apparated her out, yet it was not fast enough, for a split moment she saw it, the horror of the implication branded her, cracking apart her mind as those soulless eyes winced, her face twisting into agony, mouth open in a voiceless scream as the Inferi eradicated her. Her mind spiraling as it replayed the image over and over again- couldn’t separate it, couldn’t realize it wasn’t her, it was fake— it wasn’t supposed to feel pain. She collapsed on her bed, deep sobs ripped from her chest, Nox gently brushed his hands against her hair before lightly nudging a calming potion to her lips. She choked and gagged, but soon, soon her mind settled, her tears ended as her eyes burned staring up into the charmed night sky of her canopy. She felt numb, the horror of the night replaying over and over, yet her body couldn’t react; there was nothing that came forth for her to feel.

 

“Master, should Nox go, or should he stay?” ears twittered, an uneasy expression on his face as he inquired. Her eyes still black, magic writhing underneath her skin as it clashed with the dark magic coursing through her viens- yet she didn’t want to worry him.

 

“No…no, please, you can leave. Thank you, thank you, I couldn’t have done this without you.” She gave him a tearful smile, her voice breaking as she tried to get him to leave. She had done it, stolen another wretched soul piece; she should be happy that no one was hurt. It was Dolohov this time, the decayed arm that reached from the black water phantom fingers wrapping around her neck. He brought her hand up, closing his eyes as he bowed, pressing her hand against his forehead. Warmth and peace, a flooding, heavy feeling that rushed from their connection. The dark images blurred, the phantom fingers faded as gold started to return to black.

 

“Be sad no more, Master has wrought powerful and sacred magic- you shall not bear its price alone.”

 

It was as if he had commanded magic with his spoken word; the sensations dulled as her eyes started to droop. She could barely sense when he had tucked her in, nor when he changed her into pajamas and hid away her bag. She worried only for a moment that she would be haunted in her dreams, but as she fell, there was nothing, nothing but sunny, flower-filled fields.

 

December 11th, 1973, Hogwarts

 

The wind was howling; another winter front was moving through the Scottish Highlands. Icy bursts of powerful wind swept over the courtyard; cries of shock rang out as students rushed to flee the open areas and make it back inside. Fluttering robes, flashes of red , gold, blue, and green as clothing was swept up in the force. He shivered, pulling his robe tighter as he made his way back inside. He grimaced as he stepped through the castle doors, the heat a confusing blend of painful relief as he slowly defrosted. He had slept terribly last night, horrific dreams of black hands, echoing cries of Hermione sobbing. He had been on edge all day, it didn’t help that Hermione had looked pale today, withdrawn yet present. Her magic subdued, darker than he was used to.

 

Everything in him screamed something was wrong, but he couldn’t find it; his owlets hadn’t reported anything out of the ordinary. They were a group of first and second years, spanning across each house that he had helped, whom he had enlisted in his reconditioning operation, as Severus had aptly named it. They would simply tell him when certain people had made comments or acted in ways that would need correcting; he and Severus had armed the little ones with rubber bands and unlimited ammunition. Between the excitement of getting to “sting” rude classmates and the supply of Honeydukes treats he always seemed to have for them, they kept him thoroughly informed and entertained.

 

He stalked the halls, eyes scrutinizing faces as he made his way into the great hall. It was just in time for lunch, but he did not stop at the Gryffindor table; he made his way over to the Hufflepuffs, eyes locked in on his princess. There was a tremor in her hands, a slight movement of the prophet she held. She was smiling, but it certainly did not reach her eyes. He could tell when she realized he was there. She had breathed deeply, her tense body relaxing slightly the closer he got.

 

“Well hello there, princess.”

Groans from the table.

 

“Please, we just got her! Learn to share, Black.” Lysander grunted as he moved the food on his plate around. He narrowed his eyes at the wizard. Amy nodded her head, although she was smiling. Beth just sat with a pout, arms crossed. Hermione had brightened a bit; she was trying to hide her smile. It helped take some of the edge off.

 

“Well, you can ask my brother; I’m terrible at it, absolutely dreadful. Like a dog with a bone.”

She snorted loudly at that. He gave them a blinding smile before walking up behind her and offering a hand. She was still too pale for his liking, but she had accepted his hand without complaint.

 

“Just have her back before the next class! You nearly got her in trouble last time.” Beth teased.

“Me cause trouble? Impossible.” He scoffed as he took her bag from her hands and placed it over his shoulders, grey eyes noticing how tightly she gripped the paper in her hands. Offering an arm, which she accepted, he led her out of the great hall. His heart was beating as he noticed she leaned on him more than usual. They didn’t speak, but he warmed at the fact she allowed him to lead her, to trust wherever he was taking her. Soon they made it to the seventh floor. He lamented having to let her go but paced back and forth, revealing a very familiar door. Opening the door, he beamed with pride as he heard her gasp. Guiding her inside, he marveled at the magic that recreated the library at his grandfather’s estate. It was an imposing three-story library- shelves filled with rare tomes from throughout the ages, dark gothic accents, and a soft smell of parchment, ink, and suede.

 

Hermione had not spoken, eyes glassy as she stepped into the room. Walking slowly to the first bookshelf, she trailed her fingers over the spines of a few books. His eyes watched her, trailing over her form, delighting in the soft light that illuminated her features. Pale hands still trembled as she placed down the paper, and replaced it with a heavy tome. It was a whisper, but his ears drank it in all the same.

 

“Thank you, this is just what I needed.”

Still leaning against the doorframe, he pushed off, walking over to where she had set the paper down, eyes glancing quickly at the headline.

 

MULTIPLE MUGGLES KILLED, SHOPKEEPER MISSING IN HOGSMEADE

MINISTRY FAILS TO APPREHEND DEATHEATERS

 

He reached out, picking up the paper, his hands tightening, crumpling the parchment as he took a breath. Death Eaters. Death Eaters. They were a threat, one growing and growing, and now it was bothering her more than normal. Rage hot and blinding as he branded their forms, their masks to memory. This would not do.

 

He turned to leave, the paper still held tightly in his hands.

 

“Can you stay? Please? I don’t think I want to be alone right now.” It was so soft, so fragile; he could hear the quivering in her voice. Inexcusable.

 

He set the paper down, willing his hands to unclench as he masked his expression, eyes softening as he turned to look at her form- she looked smaller than usual. He walked over to the chaise she was on, sitting next to her. She sighed in relief as she curled into his side. He warmed, his side hot and searing where she pressed, his mind calculating.

 

“I see it sometimes, what it would be like if this war continues.” She spoke almost as if she was in a trance. It was enticing, haunting in is timbre.

 

“How many people will be ripped from the world just because they existed, because they couldn’t change their blood? How many families will be torn apart because they couldn’t support the eradication of another witch or wizard for some unchangeable characteristic?”

 

She held up one hand in the light; the other caressed a healing scar across her palm. His eyes narrowed on the injury; it was fresh.

 

“Will I die before it can be stopped?”

 

It was such a small question, yet it tore him apart. Like a sharp crucio to the chest, blinding and agonizing as he failed to suck in enough oxygen. He stilled, his arm pulling her closer, tighter into his side- she didn’t complain, simply burrowed deeper. It helped him breathe, greedily sucking in air through his nose as he tried to calm himself. The corner of the book she had chosen fell against his thigh.

 

THE PRICE: DARK ARTS OF THE CENTURY

 

She was worried; she was learning dark arts, weighing the price of using them. He could feel it in her magic, an icy edge, a lingering cold that wasn’t from the winds outside. She had used them. He took her hand closest to him, entwining their hands. His thumb rubbing against the soft skin.

 

His pulse was racing.

 

This was unacceptable. Unconscionable.

 

He would pay the price, never her.

 

Never her.

Chapter 32: Behind Blue Eyes

Summary:

Sometimes the soil is too rich, the harvest too full, tangling roots entwining far too much to be good.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, This is my first fanfic

TW: Attempted assault.

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“I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses.”― Friedrich Nietzsche

---

 

December 13th, 1973 Hogwarts 8pm

 

Untethering from reality, unflinching in its desperation, spiraling down, down, down, his mind dragged him to darker thoughts- images of horrifying scenes, of cold, lifeless eyes. Pale hands riddled with fresh scars. A soul torn asunder, numbness that would echo an eternity alone, encased in the icy bitterness of regret.

 

And he would regret it every moment, every second of his life if she died. Then, then they would regret it; he would ensure it, that those Death Eaters, those blood purists, would regret every single second of the short lives they would live if she came to harm. Unbearable. So, he swore, over and over again, in rage, in desperation, he swore to his magic he would do anything to ensure it didn’t come to pass. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he stood over the boiling cauldron; he cursed as he adjusted the flame. Eyes closing as he leaned back, rubbing his brow. Another attempt ruined, his hands trembled too much, throwing off the delicate rhythm. His ears picked up on the sharp click of a lock. Echoes, echoes of sounds that bounced between his tempestuous thoughts. Behind him stood Severus and his brother, both with eyes of shock and horror.

 

“Black.”

 

His voice felt raw as he replied.

 

“Prince.”

 

Severus occluded as he eyed the disaster Sirius had wrought. He stood in the middle of the room next to a smoking cauldron; behind him were broken pieces of furniture and portraits that used to hang on the walls. In their place were hundreds of prints of the prophet, marked and torn as they weaved themselves across the space, scribbled notes, highlighted photos, and times dated. Names, hundreds of names scrawled wildly across the years of documented atrocities. Darkness lingered on the edges of the room, swallowing up the madness. Sirius’s eyes were black, pupils so dark they overpowered the soft light of the candles illuminating the room. His hair rumpled and wild, his uniform just as displaced, as disjoined and torn as his surroundings. He pressed his palm into Regulus’s arm, turning his head slightly to give him a look, his mind urging him to understand. Be still, be silent, don’t move.

 

He could see it in the sway of his form, in the dark pit of his gaze- Sirius was not fully lucid. His muscles tense, body primed for a fight, a deep aggression that oozed from his magic. He had felt this, the same current in the air that seemed like one wrong move, one wrong word would cause it to ignite, to implode and spill forth- It had always signaled one of his father's attacks. He tightly clamped down on his thoughts, occluding so harshly he nearly buckled. He was not his father, he was not Tobias Snape. Mind-numbed, his body relaxed, movements slow and fluid as he stepped forward.

 

“You’ve done some redecorating without me, Black.” his voice drawled. He kept his gaze lowered-Do not challenge him, Do not make eye contact.

 

Sirius tilted his head, black eyes piercing- searching for a weakness.

 

“It was a necessary improvement.”

 

Severus walked over to the nearest wall, eyes calculating as they took in the details. Death Eaters, each piece of information was about Death Eaters—their movements, their masks, the areas in which they targeted. He was surprised at the detail, the intensity of it all. There was a deep, seething rage in every stroke of his quill, in every tear on a page, imbued with purpose and magic. He moved stealthily, appraising wall after wall. Slowly he made his way closer and closer; he could still feel it, the visceral rage, the predatory eyes that followed his every step.

 

Inch by agonizing inch, he came to stand beside Sirius, eyes quickly looking at the two tomes splayed on the table. One, black as night, covered in a grizzly mottled leather, bound and stitched together with a tight white wiry thread, long and fibrous, waxy in appearance- it came to him quickly, a deep unsettling pinch within his chest as he realized. It reminded him of the biology books he had found at the local library in cokeworth- ligaments. His magic recoiled. The other was open to detailed instructions: a saliva- soaked mandrake leaf, hair, a silver teaspoon of dew collected from a place that has not been touched by sunlight or human feet in seven days, the chrysalis of a death’s head hawk moth, seven clockwise spins, before lowering the temperature, then seven counterclockwise spins, pulled after reaching a rolling boil for seven minutes. It tickled at his mind. The smell from Black’s mouth this past month, the potion ingredients.

 

Animagus, he was trying to become an Animagus. He inhaled, mind still numbed from his deep occlumency, emotions still stifled.

 

“It seems you’ve spoiled your batch.” He leaned over to see the blackened result. He tensed, his body unable to prevent its natural instincts—protective movements snapping into place when he felt the darkness of the room shift. Black stood taller, neck popping as he rolled his neck; he had grown so much recently, easily towering over all the other third-year wizards, some of the fourth and fifth-years as well. He was imposing, terrifying as his normally expressive face was frozen as he leaned into his space. Anxiety rose, slipping through his control, flooding his mind the closer and closer Sirius got, eyes still black, violent magic brushing against his. He could see the bulging veins of his exposed forearms as he clenched his fists. He looked up; Sirius’s shirt was unbuttoned, and there was a red mark on his neck that caught his eye. It was a bite, yet there was a shimmer that caught in the light. His brows creased; he quickly locked eyes with Sirius- Black, black, black. The magic of the room crackling, his pulse skyrocketed even with the occlumency. That was a mistake. He quickly diverted his gaze.

 

“Sirius,” it was a whisper from the back of the room- Regulus. Voice nervous and unsure.

 

No, no, no. Be still, be silent— don’t move.

 

It was as if he was possessed; Sirius’s head turned so slowly to eye his brother at the back of the room. His body shifted, pulling away just enough- Severus inhaled deeply as some of the pressure he was emitting eased. He needed to redirect his focus, bringing him back to lucidity before something bad happened. He was not his father; he was not Tobias Snape.

 

“I can help you, Black.”

 

Again, those black eyes snapped back to him; he could feel them piercing his skull, dragging across his face.

 

“With your potion and… with this.” He slowly pulled a black book from his robes. Carefully placing it on the table, turning the notebook open to a specific page. It was enough, enough distraction for him to take a step back, hands coming together behind his back, squeezing them tightly to stop the tremors. His instincts screaming, he was dealing with a wild beast- do not turn your back. Do not run. Sirius was silent as he moved leisurely, his hands reaching out to finger the pages of Severus’s notebook. The darkness on the edges of the room seemed to suffocate him; closer and closer it crept. Step by step, he made his way back to Regulus. He turned his body slightly, coming close as he leaned in to whisper in his ear.

 

“Leave slowly. Do not speak of this to anyone— do you understand?”

A tiny nod. Regulus took one last glance at his brother and made his escape. Severus closed his eyes until he heard the soft click of the lock.

 

“Severus.” It was a deep, rumbling timbre, commanding. He made his way back to Sirius’s side. His occlumency was failing, anxiety and dread trickling out; he had to force his feet to keep moving, force the muscles in his face not to react. Calm, collected, do not show fear. It was worse, worse than it was before, the predatory gleam in his eyes, the darkness, the power with which he pressed into the room, domineering magic filling the cracks, claiming even the oxygen in the air. His lungs burned.

 

“You said you’ll help me?” He knew it was posed as a question, but the tone—his expression left no room for any answer but the one he was about to give.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good.”

 

 

December 21st, 1973 Evan’s Cottage

 

Radiance, decadence, sublime divinity.

 

There were many words, many feelings he could describe as he watched Hermione perform the winter ritual, each movement of her body tearing apart his concentration. She was glowing, golden, and warm, magic flooding the warded section of the property. She was the sun, the embodiment of mother magic, as snow fell around them, white flurries that mimicked raining stars, shimmering as they descended, absorbing the golden hue. Perpetual summer encased in the icy snow of winter- powerful and unyielding. Surrounded on every side by family and friends, his mind was sluggish, brought low by a cup of mulled wine his father had given him. His vision tunneled as he studied her form. Long auburn locks, curls flowing freely, adorned with a crown of holly and mistletoe, pale supple skin that warmed in the firelight- teases of her neck, flashes of delicate wrists and ankles, the soft curve of her chest, the slender dip of her waist. Enchanting lips that prayed to the gods, that led his magic to boil in his blood. Draped in white silver, laced in runes, in protections of old, a dress provided by his family. His heart nearly burst when she walked out that night—he could only feel blessed that a goddess had descended and allowed his unworthy eyes to take in her form. He was intoxicated.

 

Higher and higher the flames rose. Each time a chalice was raised, each time the wine flooded his system, he prayed.

 

Protect her, Protect her, Protect her.

 

When it was done, when the night was flooded with the heady feeling of ritual magic, his body moved, pulling him to the enchantress dancing around the fire. Chasing, chasing, chasing. The ecstasy in his magic tugged him along; like an addict, he complied, bringing him to her godly form.

 

Stunning.

 

She smiled in a way that flayed his chest open; it hurt so much to look at that smile, the hazy teasing curve, the crinkle at the edges of her eyes, the way she pulled him into her gravitation.

 

“Dance with me?”

 

It might have been a question, but his soul leapt; from her lips it was a divine edict.

 

He slipped his hand into hers, skin burning as the magic between them connected. He pulled her close, twirling her around the fire. Around and around, the soft, melodious laughter that revitalized him, her touch searing into his skin, her presence igniting his soul, her magic surrounding them, splashing against his feet, brushing against his whole being. How could he ever compare, ever feel anything as amazing as she felt in his arms?

 

It was as if he had captured magic itself.

 

He nearly wept when he had to let it go.

 

February 14th, 1974 Hogwarts

 

There was a vibrant energy that filled the air; excited laughter and anticipation filled the halls. She kept her head down, grimacing at the overly festive decorations and overly expressive posturing of the other students. It was just too much of everything; her magic was inundated with so many emotions, so many impressions of the people around her. It was giving her a mild headache. As she moved stealthily through the halls, the overly rambunctious sea parted, just like in religious tales; both sides of the hall swiftly moved wider and wider. It was odd; ever since they had come back, there was a—distance, a bubble that had evolved around her.

 

It was almost respectful in the way they moved. Heads would nod, doors would be held open, not just by Sirius but by others she had never even met. By Purebloods, Half-bloods, and even other Muggle-borns. It struck her speechless when a bald-headed Mulciber, who looked awful with purple bags under his eyes, diligently rushed to open the library door for her the other day. Sirius had just chuckled at the story as he walked her to class, but she had noticed the flash in his grey eyes, the curve of his lips as he forced away a smile. It was confusing.

 

It was even happening to Sirius; he was bright, always shining like a star, but now he burned hotter. Adoring gazes followed him; each and every day there was another student coming to speak to him about something. Diverted eyes, respectful nods, offers of help, and distance, yet they trailed after him, eager to be of use. There were parchments too; he had tried to play it off, but it was happening too frequently now to ignore. Beth and Amy had been absolutely annoying—tight-lipped and unswayed by her threats, yet they still gave her knowing looks and strutted about at her sides in the hall. James and Remus didn’t crack either; they’d just smile, but it was a brittle, glum smile in the way it tilted, one that made her nervous. She was tempted to believe this was just a part of some elaborate prank in the making.

 

They were rounding a corner when a gangling wizard stepped forward to block her path. His presence seemed to suck the joy from the air as other students abruptly stopped talking, eyes wide as they watched. It had gone silent. Hermione internally groaned; it was Valentine’s Day, and by the looks of his twitchy, sweating form, something uncomfortable was about to happen.

 

“Um, excuse me, Miss Evans.”

 

She stared at him intently, the wild part of her sneering. His scent was wrong. His features too soft. His arms looked so slender, his shoulders too narrow, his magic tepid and thin. He couldn’t even muster up the courage to look her in the eye. Weak. She shook her head slightly, a bit horrified at where her thoughts turned.

 

“Yes? May I help you?” She tried to keep her tone light, although the seed of dread blossomed in her stomach. More twitching, her eyes watched a single drop of sweat roll from his strawberry-blonde hair into a dark brown eyebrow. Nervous blue eyes finally looked up, yet they didn’t meet her gaze. They scanned the hallway and the surrounding faces before falling back to the floor. He seemed more relieved.

 

“M-m-may I speak to you, um-um some where private?” Squeaky and stuttering, he asked as he twisted the corner of his shirt. Amy squeezed her arm; she turned her head to look at her face. Amy was pale, clammy almost. Her eyes narrowed.

 

“Who are you?” she inquired, head tilting as she watched pink flood the tips of his ears and neck.

 

He brought a trembling hand up to run through his hair. She couldn’t help but notice it was short and thin, slightly longer on top, but her brain just kept coming back- it was too short, too thin, too light; there wasn’t even a slight curl. Not right.

 

“Oh, um, I’m Bertram Aubrey, 4th year Ravenclaw.”

 

The name clicked; she had seen him around, lingering in the halls after classes, sometimes walking across the lawn when she had decided to read outside. He was quiet in class, never really speaking up. He was like a ghost, an intangible presence that really only made an impression once it was right in front of you. She knew how that could feel.

 

“Okay.” Gasps rang out. The soft muttering of conversations started around her.

 

“Wait… Okay?” He finally looked at her, eyes wide, mouth dropping open.

 

“Yes, you just wanted to talk, right?” She questioned. He wasn’t able to get his response out before her friends started.

“I really don’t think-” Amy whispered in her ear. Beth tugged on her other arm, pulling them further away from the sweating Ravenclaw. Beth threw the waiting wizard a harsh glare.

“Excuse us.”

Taking a few more steps, just to ensure he couldn’t hear before turning back to Hermione.

“Reconsider this, Mia…” Beth urged. Hermione gently pulled away from both, smiling as she leaned into Amy’s side.

“It should be alright; I can just hex him if it’s too much.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, Mia.” Amy pleaded softly; there was an undercurrent to her tone, one she did not like at all. The look in Beth’s eye, the uncomfortable worry, the slight downturn of her face made the hairs on the back of her neck stand.

 

“Beth?”

“There’s been talk, just rumors of course, but he doesn’t… Take rejection well, Mia.” she confessed.

“Nothing here, of course, just some things mentioned by girls that have been to parties his family has gone to.”

 

“We know you’re wicked fast in a pinch, but… Don’t put yourself in that situation, please.” Beth pleaded.

 

Their words only hardened her resolve; there was no way she would allow some creep to keep skulking around the castle. She wouldn’t allow some junior vane to practice his techniques; she had seen too many women taken advantage of in her past life. Could still feel the rank breath of Scabior on her neck some nights, still remember Fenrir’s twisted promises before she was tortured.

“Listen to me, I am going to go and talk to him; he most likely will confess he likes me, which I will promptly decline. Just in case the rumors are true, why don’t you girls go get Professor Sprout?”

 

Both girls groaned, paling even further than what she thought was possible.

“You know where the abandoned classroom is next to the great hall?”

“Yes, I do,” Amy answered.

 

“Okay, good, I’ll make sure to take him there.” She gave them another reassuring smile that didn’t seem to alleviate either of the girls rising anxiety. She turned and made her way back to Aubrey, keeping her distance though.

 

“Sorry about that, my friends can be a bit silly.”

 

“No, no, that’s okay- good friends are difficult to find.”

 

“So… You want to speak privately?”

 

“Oh yes, please.”

“Okay, I think I know a place.” She gave him a disarming smile; it didn’t reach her eyes, didn’t change the tenseness in her body, but he was too nervous to notice. He blushed even more. She could still hear the whispering conversations around her; the oppressive air thickened. She hated being a spectacle; it reminded her too much of fourth year with Harry.

He gave her a lopsided smile, her eyes catching the crookedness of a few of his teeth. The Grangers would have grimaced if they saw.

 

“Please, lead the way, Miss Evans.” He gave her a gentlemanly gesture, arm outstretched. She wanted to laugh; the way he had moved reminded her of a poorly executed period drama.

 

Beth winced, pulling Amy’s nails from her forearm as they watched Hermione lead Aubrey away.

“Oh, Merlin, he’s going to die. We’re complicit in a murder, Beth.” Amy stared at her, eyes wide.

 

“I doubt Mia will murder him, maim significantly, but not murder. Maybe.” She grunted out, pulling on Amy so they could find Professor Sprout.

 

“Mia? Oh no, it’s not Mia I’m worried about; it’s Black.” Amy confessed, her eyes tracking the number of students who had left, students she knew reported to him.

Beth paled a bit; she had stupidly forgotten about Black. She cursed; it was a huge error on her part.

 

“Okay, shit, you’re right. How about we pick up the speed, hmm? We need Professor Sprout NOW.”

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

Hermione walked silently next to Aubrey. He stuttered as he spoke about his courses, his ambitions, how his family, while not as prominent as others, still had a few country houses in France. She smiled, or fussed appropriately, when she could tell he was looking for some type of response. Although internally she just wanted to roll her eyes. She nearly gritted her teeth after the unending personal word vomit turned to how he would be able to provide any witch with the life of their dreams. Something about how he would be “coming into inheritance of a significant sum of galleons” once his grandfather passed. Not once in the ten minutes it had taken in their walk to the abandoned classroom had he asked her a single question about what she actually wanted.

 

Sirius would never.

 

She blushed heavily when the thought popped into her mind like an unexpected house elf. Unfortunately, Aubrey saw, and in his infinite wisdom decided that her blush was attributed to his words. His confidence grew, something she crinkled her nose at.

 

Finally, they were at the abandoned classroom. She walked through the threshold, spelling the door open. She could see out of her periphery that he had tried to close the door. A brief flash of anger crossed his face before it left— the awkward smile he originally had back in place. Red Flag. She moved about the room; he trailed after her while she pretended to be absentminded as she swapped their positions. Her back was now to the open door, and he was further into the room. Cornered. She waited, watching intensely as he started to become more and more twitchy, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallowed.

 

“So, I… I.. I asked you to speak privately because… Well, I like you! Please go out with me.” He let out a jumbled rush.

 

She was flattered, but everything in her screamed that he wasn’t right. Curiosity burned, and she decided to indulge it.

 

“What do you like?”

 

“Wait, what?” He was confused.

 

She adjusted her stance, her hand covertly slipping over her wand.

“What is it about me that you like?”

 

He seemed puzzled for a moment, his mind racing itself to come up with an answer. She frowned. It was taking an embarrassingly long time for him to speak.

“Um… You’re pretty.”

 

“And?”

More silence. Honestly, now she was actually pissed off. Maybe she should just hex him and be done with this.

 

“You.. You smell good.”

 

Red Flag.

 

Now that one made her nauseous, because she could not remember a time when they were together, or even close enough past this moment for him to be able to smell her. It was insulting; from his words, she learned he had come from an older pureblood family, while not as important, he should have been taught basic etiquette. He had asked for a private moment, which was frowned upon; he had spoken too much of his finances, which was considered gauche; he had just asked for a casual relationship. She was a modern witch; she knew her worth and would do whatever she wanted at the end of the day—but she had grown to find some of the older chivalry and etiquette charming. Everything about this just rankled her.

 

“Thank you…. That was enlightening, but I’m going to have to decline.” She replied tersely. She might have offered friendship, but she wasn’t exactly enthused about the small glimpse of who he was that he had provided. She blinked, just for a second, but in the small moment he had crossed the room with horrifying speed, his bony hand clamping down on her wrist and tugging harshly. Her mind barely registered, through the shock, the pain in her wrist as he twisted them around- she was the one now cornered.

 

“No, no, no, you can’t tell me no!” He looked crazed, his face red, eyes shaking as he got in her face. She cursed her height because his gangling, hunched form unraveled, towering over her. She raised her hand, nails clawing into the forearm closest to her. She was pissed, her magic starting to crackle, hair twitching as she sneered at him. It wasn’t smart of her to antagonize him further, but she had had enough. Battled actual monsters, this limp waste of space wasn’t someone she would ever cower from. The headache from earlier came back full force. He had pulled her wand hand from her robes, but she could still use wandless magic.

 

“Let go of me- NOW. NO, NO, NO- get it through your thick skull- NO.” She was seething, ready to claw his ugly face apart. Just as she was about to curse him, a dark shadow fell across the room, the temperature dropping, plummeting as a thick, violent magic invaded. A strong, gloved hand slammed into Aubrey’s shoulder, the force nearly knocking him to his knees. He screamed, startled enough to let her go; she pulled back her hand quickly. Her wrist was throbbing, but she was completely distracted by Sirius’s fierce black eyes. He was furious, more furious than she had ever seen him. His strong features, hauntingly beautiful in their twisted rage. He towered over Aubrey, every inch of him tense and aggressive as he easily yanked the other wizard around. His free hand quickly found Aubrey’s throat, tightening, cutting off his air as he picked him up with one hand and slammed him into the ground. Her eyes dilated, breath coming out in short, quick pants as her blood sang. The wild part of her melting. Strong. Her blood was burning.

 

“Don’t you ever fucking touch her.” He growled out; it was low and calm, but it rang in her ears, spreading through her body, tingling. She could feel it in every strand, every nerve within her body. She shifted, head tilting to see more. Her greedy gaze devouring his rage. His muscles bulging, the white of his shirt sticking to his skin, he must have come from quidditch practice- every detail of his power rippling under her heated eyes.

 

Oh

 

He was feral as he started to wail on Aubrey; each time his fist connected with his face, she could hear his pleading, hear the moment he broke a bone in his face, blood from his gloved fists splattered on her skin.

 

“You’ll never fucking put your hands on her again. Never fucking look at her again!” He growled out.

 

She was enthralled.

 

Aubrey had gotten one small swing in retaliation, cracking against Sirius’s nose. He didn’t even flinch, just continued as blood poured down his face.

 

She couldn’t move and didn’t want to stop watching him. He was beautiful. Like a dark and vengeful god.

 

Professor Sprout rushed in, followed by James and Remus- they rushed to pull him off, Both boys could barely control him; there was shouting, then flashes of magic as Sprout forced them apart. Then came Amy and Beth, rushing to her side, fretting as they saw the bruise starting to form on her wrist. Then Dumbledore was there, shouting, demanding answers. It fell from her lips, but her eyes never left Sirius’s face. He wordlessly whispered, Are you Okay? She gave him a nod. In return he gave her a bloodied smile. Her magic purred.

 

He was magnificent.

 

“Aubrey, he asked, asked to speak with me privately, Amy and Beth warned me, there had been some rumors about him. So I asked them to get a teacher, just in case.”

 

Her eyes narrowed as she watched Dumbledore lean down to fix his face. What a shame.

 

“He asked me out, and I said no; as soon as I did, he attacked me. Sirius saved me.”

 

Everything fell into a bit of a blur; she knew he had gotten detention even though he had helped her. Something she hated immensely, he should have never been punished. The girls had escorted her back to their room, leaving her for a moment to go along with their head of house to make statements. She walked over to her bed. Thereupon her spread rested a bouquet made of bachelor’s buttons and edelweiss, a red ribbon tied around the stalks with Sirius’s unmistakable scrawl on the slip of paper attached. She smiled, picking up the flowers and making her way into the bathroom. There was a vase she could use on the counter, her mind supplied. The mirror gasped in horrified shock.

 

“What happened to you, deary?”

 

Dazed, she looked up, her pupils wide, black as night, blood splattered across her face, hair wild from her agitated magic earlier, cheeks pink, and her skin flushed. Wrist bruised and exposed as she held the bouquet to her chest.

 

 

The dark part of her mind rejoiced in ecstasy. He had done it for her, hadn’t hesitated.

 

She enjoyed it far too much to ever speak it out loud.

Chapter 33: Riders on the Storm

Summary:

Careful planning helps a seasoned gardener maintain his harvest

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; this is my first fanfic

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“There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”― Friedrich Nietzsche

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February 14th, 1974 Hogwarts (Evening)

 

Heaviness, exhilaration—every nerve in his body was buzzing, every cell flooded with a dark and heady sensation that snaked through his veins—powerful, seductive. He finally felt in control for once in his life, felt like he was the descendant of the mighty beings that were only whispered about. Fabled tales that ensnared his mind slipped into his ears as fantastical stories of victory and conquest by the fervent lips of elder blacks. Warring Lords—beings that reformed the world to their desires.

 

She had smiled at him.

 

He had looked up, just briefly through his rage, as blood spattered on his face, as it trailed from his nose and mixed with the unworthy form beneath him. As he delighted in the way skin and bone crumpled beneath his fist. As his mind narrowed on destroying the creature that had bruised her pale skin. What was pain? What was restraint? Trivial things that could be ignored when his prey was within his grasp.

 

He had looked up.

 

Flushed and devastatingly beautiful, she had smiled at him in that way that drove him mad, chest bursting as her eyes shone with adoration and delight. Her magic had flooded him with an indescribable pleasure.

 

Oh, how she blessed him.

 

He made his way through the halls; step by step he could feel the magic of the castle, feel it moving beneath his feet, feel it teasingly observing as he made his way to the Gryffindor common room. Portraits trembled, silent for once in their observation- eyes, thousands of judging eyes probed him. Yet he couldn’t care, couldn’t find the small part of him that used to worry. He would never worry again, not when she had smiled at him in a way that had destroyed and rebuilt him. As he entered the common room, he barely noticed the frightened faces, the horrified gasps- smiling in delight as his mind supplied her image, on loop, rewiring his brain with deadly efficiency.

 

As he entered the dorm, he noticed James and Remus, pale and pacing. Their bodies instinctively tensed as he made his way to the bathroom. He saw the small flare of Remus’s nostrils, the way his lip lifted. He laughed, a low, startling chuckle, his mind unkind as it raced- it seemed he could even intimidate the beast trapped within his blood. Excellent.

 

He silenced the bathroom mirror; the figure’s horrified face made him laugh fully this time. Deep barking laughs as he took in his appearance. Hair wild, eyes still black, face still bloodied, his shirt completely drenched in splashes of red.

 

“Sirius?” The tilt of his inflection, a length of pause, the tone filled with anxiety-unsure. It rattled in between his eyes as his mind tried to grasp onto the implication of it all.

 

“What is it, James?”

 

“Mate, are you okay?”

 

“I’ve never felt better.”

 

It was the most honest he had ever been.

 

Poor James swallowed rapidly, his body leaning back trying to put more distance between them. He looked like he was about to throw up. Twitchy, twitchy Remus, it caught his attention, the flicker of his fingers, the shift of his stance, how he clenched and unclenched his fists. His mind registered it quickly- horrified and disturbed. How could they be so when his blood sang so gloriously?

 

“Sirius, mate… this is, this is beyond what I can understand.”

 

He scoffed loudly. Something that made both boys wince.

 

“Maybe you don’t need to?”

“We do need to, Sirius, we do. We’re worried- rightly so, mate.” It was Remus this time.

 

He sighed, his mind helpfully supplying that they had been loyal, they had been understanding in a way he had never experienced outside of Hermione. Brothers, bound by choice instead of blood. Everything in him wanted to snarl, to laugh, or to force them away—anything but bare a part of him that felt so raw at the moment.

 

“She’s important to me- you know how important she is.”

 

He turned on the water at the sink, conjuring a small hand towel, wetted the cloth, and began to wipe the blood from his face and neck. The pressure from his hands, the warmth of the water as he watched pale skin reveal itself from under the dried blood—every sensation soothing the wildness of his mind. Dark black eyebrows came together as James pressed his lips flat. He was uncomfortable, shifting minutely, arms crossing over his chest as he tightly tucked his hands under, sandwiching them between his chest and arms.

 

“It’s just… this is a lot over a witch…” James forced the words out, one hand freeing itself as he rubbed a hand through his hair, a classic Potter tell when something was bothering him. His lips parted, then closed. He gave a brief look to Remus before asking.

 

“Is this serious for you, mate? Do… Do you love her?”

 

He turned to look at James and Remus, his head tilting as his eyes narrowed. He didn’t understand what he was asking.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Blinking, so much blinking from both- he noticed how he could start to see some veins beneath their pale complexions. He didn’t think they could get any lighter, not unless they died. Sadness and disbelief were etched into their very beings. He couldn’t understand the change in the mood, the shift in their magic.

 

“No… Wait… You don’t know what love is? How?” James exclaimed, his voice filled with incredulity.

 

His expression was so absurd, it was as if he had told him quidditch would be banned for life. It made him laugh. Their faces fell, something that confused him further, abruptly ending his amusement.

 

“No, I know the word; it was just never something that was spoken about growing up. So what do you mean?” He forced a smile as he continued to wash his face. It was a word he sometimes used; he knew it was when you liked something, but James’s question had a weight, an undertone he didn’t quite get. He didn’t like this; there was a prickly, uncomfortable sensation in his chest, the same that usually came when he was younger, waiting on the punishment his mother would decide on.

 

“Fuck, mate, I knew the Blacks were bad, but shit…. Not even at school? Valentine’s Day?”

 

Why, why, why was this so important to them? Why bother?

 

“You’ve never read about it either?” The softness of Remus’s tone made him want to grit his teeth; it set his already slipping control spiraling.

 

He was starting to get annoyed; he hated the pitiful looks that had taken over their faces. He hated the sobering feel of the air, the tension in the current his magic fed from.

 

“It’s not exactly on the Hogwarts curriculum, mate- Just tell me what the fuck you mean!”

 

He slammed down the towel on the bathroom sink, his face, and neck now clean. He stormed past them; they quickly parted, allowing him through. Coming to stand near his bed as he pulled a new shirt and pair of sleep pants from his trunk. Throwing them harshly onto the bed before turning to observe them once more. He was starting to bristle, his mind going over the word. It was just something you said when you liked something. Right?

 

“Of course I like her; I’ve always liked her. Is that what you’re talking about?”

 

They were doing it again. James and Remus communicated without speaking, just varying movements of their bodies and flashes of emotions in their eyes. He always hated it, hated how they knew and how sometimes they expressed something he couldn’t quite grasp. James nodded, cutting off the conversation before stepping toward him.

 

“Love.. Love.. Fuck mate, I’m not an expert on this, but it’s something that’s deep, a connection you feel towards someone—you, you want to be close to them, you think about them all the time, there’s a warmth there. When you see them, it fills you with joy, contentment. It’s a feeling you get, a feeling that changes you; it’s something much, much more than, like,” James stuttered, trying to express what little he knew.

 

Sirius stared at him silently, mind taking in his words, before chuckling.

 

“That’s it?”

 

Remus shook his head, his mouth opening and closing.

“What do you mean that’s it?” He questioned.

 

“Just a feeling? Just thoughts and warmth? Wanting to be close? I feel that way about Quidditch- fuck mate, I feel that way about you both sometimes.”

 

He noticed the bright blushes on both of their faces before turning and taking off his ruined shirt. His hand came up to hover over the bite on his neck. He had been placing stasis charms on it since the day she gave it to him. He didn’t want it to heal, for if it did, that burning pain, that deep satisfaction he felt the moment her lips touched his skin, would end. His fingers were shaking as he pressed down harshly, eyes closing as the sharp pain radiated through his neck and shoulder. It was divine. He dropped his hand.

 

“I was six years old, nearly seven, when I met her; the feeling of her magic guided me right to her- for a moment I stupidly thought I’d found a nymph; she was just so stunning even then. Since that moment she has dwelled within my mind, in every thought at the end of the day, at the beginning of each morning, living in every part of me.” He pressed against his sternum, over the spot he could feel her. Both boys just looked on, eyes wide as they listened to his soft confession.

 

“Right next to my heart, as each year stretches, she burrows deeper and deeper inside of me, living within my veins, flooding my magic, taking over my every waking thought. And I couldn’t be happier; this is the best I’ve ever felt in my life. A feeling? Something that could change? That’s impossible. She lives right within my soul, a piece of me; her body is simply separated. A much brighter, much more beautiful part of me.” He moved to put on his new shirt.

 

“Laugh at me if it pleases you, be shocked or horrified, be confused- be anything you need to be. You say it’s a lot, but it’s not enough. Every part of our world—” He glared at James.

 

“Is a threat to her because of her blood… But I… I stand at the top. The purest blood on this continent, from the most ancient and noble house. That’s supposed to mean something; that does mean something for all the wrong reasons.” He ran his hands through his hair, tugging harshly, before moving his hands to drag down his face.

 

“I’d spill every last drop of my pure blood to protect her. Use every last bit of power my family has amassed in the thousands of years since its beginning—to break this world or those in it to fashion something that wouldn’t dare to even think of harming her, wouldn’t dare think of displeasing her.” He turned to them, silver slowly seeping back into the black. He needed to move, needed to feel the burn of his sore muscles, needed anything but standing still.

 

“I have to do it, I have to do it; it hurts.” He was mumbling now. Back and forth he paced. He needed them to understand, to see. Just like he had.

 

“Do you remember? The first time you felt it? Felt magic? That rush, that sensation of completeness and wonder? That everything before didn’t matter because you had Magic? It’s the same. It’s more. I don’t know how to describe it any other way.”

 

He waited and waited, watching their expressions. He couldn’t stand it—the silence, the confusion, or the rawness that was bleeding into the room. His magic hissed in dissatisfaction, his mind calculating. It rushed from him, speaking in a voice softer than they had ever heard from him, a voice filled with uncertainty.

 

“Is that what love means? Is that what you’re asking me?”

 

 

“Fuck, mate… That’s… I don’t know. No one’s ever said it’s like that.” James was panicking a bit, looking to Remus for support.

“Mate, that’s… Love and maybe more.” There was a lightness to his words, but his body betrayed him. Tense, much more tense than before.

 

“But what… what if she doesn’t… You know?” James hesitated to ask; he didn’t want to hurt Sirius, didn’t want to crush his mate that was in deeper than he had ever guessed. Hermione did seem to like him, even with his… Intensity.

 

 

“Whether she chooses me or not, the fact is she’s chosen me now in some way, and I’m a greedy, selfish bastard. I’ll take whatever she’ll give. I don’t think I’d survive if I didn’t.” He was back to rubbing his sternum again. Something Remus’s keen eyes cataloged.

 

“She’s important to me- Essential. You understand, right?” There was an edge of pleading in his tone, one his father would have hexed him over.

 

“Yes. I think I understand now.” James offered.

“Yes, mate.”

 

It was only a moment, a small dip in the air as the darkness of the room condensed. It raised the hair on the back of Remus’s neck. The beast within him growled, shattering his mind as it had never spoken to him outside the full moon. Danger, Danger, Danger. it hissed. Sirius’s eyes were black once more.

 

Deep and low, the thing that crept from between his lips was a voice so unlike the Sirius he knew.

 

“You’ll help me, won’t you?”

 

It pulled the answer from his mouth, his mind horrified once it registered.

 

“Yes, Sirius.”

 

 

 

February 15th, 1974 Hogwarts

 

The sun was shining brightly, illuminating the halls in a kaleidoscope of colors as it reflected through the wide windows. Groaning figures mumbled in portraits, complaining about the light, about the injustice of their spot upon the walls. Birdsong fluttered through the cracks as they quickly fled the morning light. Waiting was always torture, a necessary torture but torture nonetheless- his blood was still singing, his magic exhilarated and snappish. The morning workout would hopefully discharge some of his energy; seeing her unharmed and unbothered would soothe the rest. His leg was twitching furiously as he tapped his fingers on his thighs. He leaned his back against the castle wall, shifting his legs to make his seat more comfortable. Grey eyes closing for just a moment as he calculated all the things he still had left to do.

 

His magic spiked, recognizing her immediately. His other senses went into overdrive as he kept his eyes closed, his whole body working to capture any morsel of her existence. Yet, he couldn’t smell her, nothing but crisp air and earthy stone, couldn’t hear her steps or the movement of her clothes, or the soft little huffs of effort she normally let out while descending the stairs. Nothing had changed from the symphony of morning sounds that had distracted him earlier. Tempering down his urge to smile, he continued to play along pretending to be unaware as he felt her presence get closer and closer.

 

Did that brilliant sneaky little witch want to surprise him? His pulse was racing; he could feel the teasing tickle of her magic right next to him- he could sense her leaning close to his face. He waited, just long enough that he felt the soft brush of her curls against his shoulder then he struck. Pulling a startled squeak from her as he grabbed her gently and hauled her into his lap. She rested sideways, legs across his lap, as his arms encircled her slender waist. His eyes snapped open to the most enchanting vision. Cheeks puffed, eyes sparkling as she scrunched her nose in mock displeasure. Yet she shone in happiness. Magic, bright, and warm. It took just a moment for his eyes to scan her, to lock onto the unmarred skin of her wrist. He grunted in relief.

 

“You’re absolutely no fun! I was supposed to scare you.” She needled. One finger poking into his chest.

“What a horrible servant I am. No worries, Princess. I’ll be sure to act positively terrified next time.” He gave her a blinding smile, which she returned with one that was infinitely more destructive.

 

“Good morning, Siri.”

“Good morning, Princess.”

 

She studied him with those curious golden eyes of hers, her hands coming up to lightly trace his features. His eyes closed, basking in the sensations. A light brush across his brows, a tentative swipe down his nose, and a light brush against his cheeks and jaw. There was just a small part of him that worried, that rose to the surface as he waited in silence. What if she was afraid of him? What if she pulled away? What if he had ruined this easy lightness between them? His mind quickly derailing as he felt her run her hands through his hair, before settling behind his neck, he felt her body press against his as she tightly hugged him. He bit his lip as she rubbed her face into the crook of his neck, curling tighter into his hold.

 

Her soft voice unraveled him; all the doubts and worries vanished as she blessed him anew.

 

“Thank you for helping me, Sirius; you were amazing.”

 

April 6th, 1974 Hogwarts

 

 

“Shh, James, stop making so much noise; we’re almost there.”

“Fuck, sorry I forgot to silence my feet.”

 

“That doesn’t really help if you keep talking so loudly, mate.” Sirius hissed out, crouched low as he peeked around a corner, sighing in relief when he found that the corridor was clear, he waved James over. Higher and higher they climbed, his normal trek to the seventh floor significantly less stealthy or efficient as he brought James along. He’d clenched his jaw so tightly at one point he thought he might have broken a molar; James had nearly given the whole game away sneezing. Filch had almost turned in their direction, but luck was on their side tonight when Peeves knocked over something further down the hall.

 

Sighing in relief when the familiar tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy was finally in their reach, he quickly started pacing.

 

“Mate, I am not convinced that’s going to help right now—” James chided before his mouth dropped open and all emotion disappeared.

 

“Well, you’ve certainly been holding out on me, I’m actually quite put out about this. ” James deadpanned.

 

Sirius held back a laugh before gesturing to the door, urging him to open it and step through as his ears strained to pick up any other sounds.

 

James crossed his arms in defiance.

 

“I feel like a jilted wife who’s just found out her wizard has another house he neglected to mention.”

He really wanted to laugh again but fought to just smile as he wiggled his eyebrows at James’s pouting face.

 

“Please, darling, you can hex me and yell in my ear later; just move that ass through the door.”

 

James scoffed lightly before winking at him.

 

“Fine. When you say it so sweetly like that, how could I not?”

 

They both moved quickly, entering the room before James turned and punched him in the arm. He grunted, rubbing his arm where he had been hit. His knuckle had gotten him just right; his muscle was throbbing.

 

“Fuck, and you’ve got the mistress??” His hand whipped out to point at a bewildered Severus, who was waiting at the other end of the room next to a cauldron.

 

“What can I say? Your bright, beautiful face just hasn’t been doing it for me lately. A wizard’s got needs.” Sirius playfully chimed back.

 

“A wizard is about to throw up- do, contain whatever this is.” Severus gestured between Sirius and James.

 

James was about to respond back, but he stood still, deathly still, as he finally noticed the room they were in. James was silent as he stepped away, walking over to the closest wall. Brows furrowed as his hazel eyes moved rapidly. A trembling hand coming up to touch the papers stuck to the wall. Sirius stood still near the door, waiting as his gaze met Severus’s. No one dared to speak; the only sound breaking the silence was the harsh ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Time was something both boys had become very mindful of.

 

Tick, tock. Trembling hands pulled back, coming to cover speechless lips.

Tick, tock, another wall abandoned by a shrinking figure.

 

Tick, tock, another, and another, detail after detail absorbed and digested.

Tick, tock, hands spinning rapidly as time vanished- a hour gone.

 

“It’s real- it’s really a war, isn’t it?” James questioned mournfully as he finally turned to look at Sirius. Wide hazel eyes shaking, pleading with him. Grey eyes studied him, taking in his expressions, his body language before responding.

 

“Yes.” It was a simple answer, but one that crushed James completely.

“He never… My uncle always spoke about what was going on, but never… He always downplayed it, always laughed when I asked for more” He swallowed, a hand coming up to pull off his glasses, the other used the bottom of his shirt to quickly clean them before putting them back on.

 

“Nothing that the ministry can’t handle, James.” He bellowed out in a sarcastic tone, shaking his head in disbelief as he gestured to the surrounding walls.

 

“He’d smile at me, pat me on my shoulder, and tell me not to worry. But it’s gotten worse, hasn’t it?”

“Infinitely, more so.” Severus stated as he crossed his arms and leaned back on the table he was next to.

 

“Fuck, mate, no wonder you’ve been so barmy if this is what you knew.” He grimaced a bit as he apologized to Sirius.

“Oh no, he’s been barmy even without all of … this.” Severus pointed at the closest wall.

“Hey, you’re just the mistress here; a wife’s got to stand by her wizard, even when he drops Janice Thickey level information.”

 

Severus just closed his eyes and turned his back, leaning over the cauldron, and he let out a deep, body-shuddering sigh. One that pulled a wild barking laugh from Sirius. He walked forward, his hand coming up to pat him on the back, something Severus grumbled about, wiggling as he tried the throw the hand off before Sirius turned to James.

 

“So Mrs. Black, are you all in?”

James gave him a shrewd look before adjusting his clothes.

“Of course, for this—” He waved his hand.

“And the other thing.” He tried to whisper it, tried to be discreet, but he failed spectacularly.

 

“You mean becoming an Animagus to help with Remus.” Severus let out absentmindedly as he began to prepare the cauldron.

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Divorce! You even told him about Remus? You didn’t even tell me; I had to force it out of you!”

 

“No, my family is the one making and distributing Wolfsbane. I knew before anyone, well, probably not Hermione, but I digress.” He stated before he pulled a saliva-soaked mandrake leaf from his mouth and placed it into the cauldron. The process had begun. James returned to the walls, eyes soaking in all the information, hunting for details he might have missed. Sirius was on another wall, eyes meticulously examining the collection of pictures. It was a collage of masks, each one just slightly different from the last. His mind calculating, eyes narrowing as his fingers traced the designs. Once Severus was done, he ladled the mixture into a clear vial before beginning the process again, making Sirius’s and then James’s. They each took their vial; James rolled his in his hands, admiring the shimmering liquid. Sirius simply nodded to Severus before moving, slipping the vial into his robes.

 

“Now for the tricky part.” Sirius rubbed his hands together, walking back over to the door. He quickly disillusioned and silenced himself before opening the door and peeked out. Once he determined the coast was clear, he removed his spells and waved both of them over.

“I don’t get it.”

“Silence,” Severus whispered.

 

James jumped a bit when Severus pushed him outside, Sirius following. Once the door was closed, he began to pace again, once, twice, and then a third time before another door appeared, much more bland than the door before. He waved them inside.

 

The room was now a large greenhouse with open panes of glass. The bright full moon was shining through, white rays illuminating the flowers and tables within. Sirius moved first, coming to a window and opening it; the light was more intense as he quickly moved a table over. Once it was situated directly under the beaming rays, he pulled the vial out and set it on the table. James, finally understanding, moved to do the same. Severus was the last.

 

As they waited for the vials to glow, James decided to explore the greenhouse; Sirius had mentioned it was a replica of one from a Black property. Giving him just enough crumbs about the statues hidden within to tempt him.

 

Severus moved, coming to stand closer to Sirius, who was leaning against a wall, eyes intense as he watched the vials on the table. Once he was close enough, he crossed his arms, positioning himself at his side.

 

“Are you sure about…” His black eyes fell on the messy mop weaving through the flowers before coming to stare at Sirius’s face. He noticed the muscle in Sirius’s jaw twitched, he quickly lowered his gaze.

 

“For now.” It caused chills to roll through his body; he could still feel the darkness of that day, not as intense but present now, always present. He hesitated a bit before speaking.

 

“I don’t like the uncertainty.”

 

“Then don’t think about it. That’s my job.” He hissed out, eyes never leaving the table.

 

“As you wish.”

 

June 1st, 1974 Hogwarts Evening

 

There were hundreds of quills scratching across parchment, hundreds of students that crowded her normal spot in the library. She was irritated because her favorite bench in the back was stolen by her own sister and her growing group of harried 3rd years viciously fighting over an upperclassman’s study guide. It was a betrayal of the highest sort. It was her spot. There was a growing part of her that just wanted to jinx the seat, but after careful consideration, she decided that wasn’t actually logical, and the title really wasn’t worth it at the end of the day. She remembered how wild she had gotten the first time she had studied for her owls. Harry and Ron had even secretly contemplated spiking her morning tea with a calming draught and then not so secretly threatening to do so after she had driven them both spare. She was relaxed, more so than she had ever been—already having taken them before and refreshed herself on all seven years of coursework years ago, she felt more excited than anything else.

 

She had even gently threatened—er, persuaded—Dumbledore to allow her to try testing for all subjects. Which he simply laughed in her face before writing permission and telling her to inform her head of house. Professor Sprout was stressed beyond belief after she had handed her the paper, although it was sweet how she would check on her every few days, just little moments of time between them, where she had covertly tried to gauge her stress levels and honesty.

 

She was sitting with Amy and Beth at another table closer to the windows, and, of course, Sirius was right beside her. Remus was off to the side of their table, trying to explain something to James. She was reading a lovely text on the pre-Victorian Era astrological guides to potion making, Amy and Beth were leaning in close, gossiping about a few celebrities in a Muggle magazine. Sirius was pretending to study, but she could tell he was a bit bored, having decided to scribble doodles on his parchment rather than actually read.

 

“Mia..”

“Hmm…”

 

“Look.” Suddenly there was a magazine shoved over the top of her book. Frowning a bit, she quickly looked on the page before tilting her head. There on the page was a picture of Kiss, the rock band performing on stage. Her eyebrows raised a bit; they were quite young here. She had only seen them older, much, much older.

 

“What about them?”

“Well, which one?”

 

“What do you mean, Amy?”

 

“Which one is the most handsome?” Amy questioned, while picking at her nails. Beth giggled when she heard the snapping of a quill. Sirius looked composed, but the slight twitch of his jaw made her giggle again.

 

Hermione studied their faces, head tilting before she picked up the magazine to pull it closer to her face, studying them diligently, while internally laughing at the small meltdown that was happening next to her.

“Hmm…. I’m going to have to say…”

 

There was a sharp intake.

 

“None of them, honestly; I think the wizarding world has spoiled me.” She laughed as she felt Sirius’s relief, his magic much more pleased. Handing back the magazine, she leaned back and picked up her book.

 

“Even against all odds, inbreeding aside, I’ve grown to appreciate the handsomeness of the wizards here.” She supplied while she tried to find the spot she left off on.

 

“You know, like Remus.” She mumbled through a breathy sigh.

 

All three girls laughed once Remus’s head whipped around, glaring intensely at Hermione before slapping his forehead with his hand. Even James was grimacing as he looked back and forth between his mates. Remus was sweating, Sirius was glaring, not at Hermione, but most definitely at Remus. His poor quill broke in another spot.

 

Hermione bit her lip, her magic buzzing. She liked teasing him. Really liked it.

 

“You know what? Absolutely. There’s just something about a smart, competent wizard.” Beth teased as she picked up the game.

 

“Oh yes, nothing could be more attractive.” Hermione slipped out with a mischievous smirk.

 

June 8th, 1974 Hogwarts, Evening

 

There were screams of shock as loud booming thunder rattled the windows of the castle, lightning flashing in quick succession as heavy rain started to pour. Sirius stopped walking abruptly, causing Severus to run into his back, face smashing against his shoulder. Lily grumbled, nearly slamming into Severus as well. Sirius’s grey eyes alight with exhilaration as he looked at the storm outside. Ignoring the questions from the rest of the group, he turned to make his way back.

 

He quickly tugged on Severus’s robes as he yelled for James to hurry, Remus was confused as they all bolted. Hermione just smiled and suggested he continue on to dinner before following them. The group rushed to the seventh floor, grabbing their vials before making the mad rush back down. Stopping only once for Severus, who needed a moment to breathe—he was the most unfit out of the small group.

 

Hermione quickly charmed them all with an Impervius as they passed through threshold of the castle and out into the elements, allowing them to confidently run through the poring rain. They already had an isolated spot near the forest that they had picked out. Once they reached it, Hermione moved off to the side. Eyes roaming over each of the boys.

 

“You guys ready?”

“We have to be.” Sirius let out. James and Severus just nodded, nervous smiles on their faces.

 

“It’s going to be a bit painful, I’m not going to lie, but you, you have to let it run its course—don’t fight it, alright?” They all nodded. Another flash of lightning and rolling thunder illuminated all of their faces.

 

The boys pulled out their vials, the dark blood-red liquid sloshing against the sides. One by one the boys uncapped the vials and drank them. Hermione winced as she watched them drop, her pulse beating rapidly as she watched them scream and writhe on the soaked ground, clawing at their hearts and at the slippery earth beneath them. Rain continued to fall, the wind blew harsher and harsher, and thunder grew louder and more devastating as lightning continued to stretch across the sky.

 

Severus was the first, his body’s hazy form shrinking, reshaping. There was a sharp, piercing cry that came from his lips as he transformed. Lightning flashed, and in his place was a black mass. It stumbled, adjusting to the new body as it spread its wings, flopping and floundering on the ground for a few moments before pulling its wings tight. One foot, then the other, its beak opening to let out a familiar cry. Dark black beady eyes observed her; he hopped, making his way to her form. She couldn’t help the smile that was painted across her face as she leaned down and offered a hand.

 

Grunting lightly as she pulled him up, she cooed over the shininess of his obsidian feathers, over the beauty of his animagus.

 

“You’re gorgeous, you know? A lovely, intelligent raven. Congratulations, Severus!” He nibbled on her hand a bit before testing his wings, she held her arm out, as he started to take flight. Even with the rain and the wind, he was able to circle the small clearing before coming back to seek shelter on her shoulder. She laughed as he groomed her wild curls, a finger coming up to rub under his beak.

 

Next was James; his form, instead of shrinking, grew. She was so curious; would it be the same? Would his form change?

 

Larger and larger it grew, until a reddish-brown form wobbled on slender legs. Lightning flashed again- sharp imposing antlers sat upon his head. He was a shining red stag, just as he had been before. She waited as he adjusted, her heart tight as memories of Harry flooded her mind. He would have loved to see this. Once he was upright and looked as stable as he could this soon after transforming, she walked over. Severus squawked in displeasure as she had jostled him moving. James moved slowly, legs still unsure as he made his way to meet her. She was smiling once again, reaching out to pet him. Sighing in delight at how soft his fur was. Coming to stand near his face, she continued to pet him.

 

“You are a majestic stag, absolutely brilliant, James. Congratulations.”

 

Severus pulled on her hair, gaining her attention. She turned slightly; it looked like Sirius had transformed while she was admiring James.

 

She leaned against James’s bulky frame as she waited; the darkened form on the ground grew and grew. Her curiosity exploded; his form was still growing, much, much larger than the Padfoot she remembered. Her golden eyes glowed in the night, the hair on the back of her neck once again raising as the dark form twisted; without the flashes of lightning, she could make out two large golden eyes that stared back at her. Her magic sang; it was connecting, flowing, and attaching itself to the power rolling off him.

 

She moved, picking up Severus on her shoulder and placing him on James; both grunted in protest before she walked forward.

 

Those eyes were watching her intently, moving from their place on the ground and coming up, up, up. Clouds parted in the sky; they had been in the storm long enough for the moon to rise. The clearing lit up, heavy moonlight shining down on their forms. Through the rain, the booming thunder, and flashes of lightning, she came to kneel in front of him.

 

He was massive, rippling with black fur. Golden predatory eyes, a thick and muscled face, and a strong jaw adorned with raised ears. She reached a hand out, which he rushed to meet, growling in contentment as she ran her hands through his fur. Her mind raced as she reviewed him.

 

He was much too big to be the Padfoot she knew; he would cause absolute pandemonium in the Muggle world or the wizarding world if he ever stepped outside changed. There was no hound that was large enough to compare. Possibly an Irish wolfhound, but even then he looked taller and much, much more stout. Definitely larger than a wolf. Her mind for just a moment flashed to the memory of Divination class. Trelawney’s booming voice, shrill and grave.

 

“THE GRIM.”

 

 

“You’re absolutely magnificent, Sirius.”

Notes:

Thank you all for your time and responses. <3

I appreciate everything. Thank you for giving this wild idea of mine a chance.

Chapter 34: Woodstock

Summary:

Every gardener has a favorite flower

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

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“But we are strong, each in our purpose, and we are all more strong together.”― Bram Stoker

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July 1st, 1974 Evans Cottage 6:30am

 

The mornings were still a bit chilly as the sun delayed its full ascent, happy to hide behind the thick clouds on the horizon, bright rays breaking through, warming the patches of rolling grassland as she ran. Thoughts flashed in quick succession, links upon links, trials, and paths interconnecting as she tried to calculate what needed to be done next. Things had stagnated; Riddle had steadied the backlash of his upbringing, turning his followers into even more fervent fanatics. He was no longer a powerful wizard but a god in essence, and they spread his twisted scripture far and wide. Hinging on the dissatisfaction of the masses with the ministry, whispering promises of a utopia guided by the most knowledgeable, the oldest families. What were a few concessions when you’d be cared for? Who would dare to challenge magic? Magic that had blessed Riddle with unimaginable power?

 

They didn’t know it was stolen, didn’t know it was a wriggling mass of flesh and blood perverted and corrupted. The cost was hidden behind a disarming beauty and behind a pleasant desire. Riddle was more than a venomous snake; he was an immortal hydra. For each leg she severed, another would grow in its place, allowing the beast to continue moving forward. She needed to strike the heart, the organ that kept blood flowing to those severed pieces, allowing just enough time for regrowth.

 

She stopped running, her hands coming to rest on her sides as she tilted her head back. Greedily sucking in air as she pulled her wand from her holster. She turned to her right, her hand coming out to press against the invisible boundary; she could feel the end of the wards, feel the weakening magic. Calming her mind, she whispered the protections again, reinforcing and expanding the layers. Like a looping lattice of interweaving spells and intention, she bound the wards tighter.

 

Every day there were more disappearances, more killings, and “unexplained” vandalism of Muggle-born owned businesses or homes. One instance near her father’s work had sent her into a blind panic, causing her to relive the crippling anxiety she had the summer after 6th year, the endless nightmares of blank eyes, deserted houses—empty pictures. And because of this, she would make another choice, chancing another roll of the dice. Placing her wand back in her holster, she turned and began to make her way back to the house. She only had a few more hours before the first official lessons with the Black family would begin.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

“How does this look?” Petunia inquired as she primped and picked at her dress before she grabbed her blond hair, twisting and pulling it into an elegant chignon as her pale blue eyes focused on her image in the mirror.

 

Lily, sitting in front of a vanity table along the wall, turned to shrewdly eye her sister. It was a slow, meticulous perusal, once, then twice, before speaking.

 

“Change the earrings; that pair doesn’t go well with your dress.” She turned back, setting down her mascara. She leaned over a bit to reach a semi-closed oak box on the table. Flipping it open, she began to dig through its contents. Humming lightly as she browsed, acceptable replacements were quickly placed on the tabletop; those less satisfactory were nudged back to the side in the box. After a few moments, sizing up each of her choices, she finally decided. Smiling, she quickly scooted back her chair and got up.

 

“Here, these would go so much better; they’re not as distracting.” Petunia paused, her hands coming down from her hair to take the earrings Lily was holding. They were three small white pearls, dangling in a straight line on a silver chain compared to the large brass-wired flowers in her ears—there was a small twitch of her eyebrow as she contemplated them. Pulling one earring out, she held up the new one in its place, eyes narrowing as she judged. It was only a moment before she decided, replacing the ones she had for Lily’s suggestion. Handing the flower earrings to Lily.

 

“Mia, thoughts?” Petunia asked while applying a slight gloss to her lips.

Hermione looked up from her book, eyes just as shrewd as Lily’s, as she inspected her sister.

 

“Are you going to wear Mama’s necklace?”

“Mhmm.”

Already a few sentences back into her reading, Hermione replied absentmindedly.

 

“Then it’s perfect, Tuney.”

 

Lily smiled as she looked at Petunia; both girls shared a knowing look.

 

“Tuney, will you help me with my hair?” Lily asked as she sat back down, discarding the earrings next to the jewelry box. Picking up her mascara and finishing her lashes, she leaned close to the mirror. Using her pinky finger, she slowly separated the lashes that had clumped up. Petunia, satisfied with her look, walked over, coming to stand behind Lily.

 

“Sure, anything specific?”

“I want to keep most of it down, but can you braid these top parts here?” She pointed to the sides of her head. Petunia nodded as she slowly ran her hands through her hair.

“And can you wrap them back?”

“Ah, I get it. Here, sit still, though; I’m not going to help you if you wiggle around a bunch.” Petunia chided as she smiled, hands already moving to start braiding.

 

Hermione smiled as she listened to her sisters, her book open in her lap as she counted down the minutes. Her pointer finger unconsciously moving back and forth on the page as she waited. They were all getting slightly more put together today than normal. It was a formal introduction to their teachers, and dance lessons followed shortly after. Petunia was stunning in a deep blue A-line dress that stopped just above her ankles, long-sleeved and embroidered with silver and white stitching; dainty white kitten heels complemented the ensemble. Lily was in a form-fitting sage green dress with soft, billowing sleeves and tan heels.

 

She had chosen something more simple; her wild curls were down, just slightly more defined. Deciding to put just a bit more effort in, she had done her makeup, just a few charms for blush and accents. She was wearing a lovely dress from Madam Malkins; it was white, with a V-shaped neck and a flower-like border that framed her chest and shoulders. The sleeves puffed out but then narrowed at the forearms. The waist was cinched, using a corset-like pattern. Charmed and sinfully comfortable white heels graced her feet. Normally pants and blouses were more her style, but after seeing her sisters dress up, she had decided to embrace it as well. There was a small part of her that wondered whether Sirius would like it—would he think she looked just as beautiful as her sisters or more?

 

Her pulse jumped as she unfolded her bookmark; it was the results of their owls. Her eyes glowing in delight when she looked upon the results, it was becoming a habit, a slight dopamine rush. First place: Hermione Evans; second place: Sirius Black. There was something so satisfying about seeing their names together. She didn’t want to believe it was because of what she had said, didn’t want to hope, to allow her mind to accept that he valued her—that he might like her.

 

The form of Hermione Granger still lived inside her, something that she couldn’t let go entirely. She would remind her, each time he looked at her, each time she felt like there was something more—the years leading up to the Yule Ball, the disaster of the night, and the years of limbo after. The most painful of all was the image her mind created: black hair instead of red, throwing her hand away, turning his back, and leaving her. It crushed her.

 

“My lovely flowers!” Louis bellowed, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts as he walked into the room. Eyes bright as he gushed over their beauty.

 

“A man like me must be divinely blessed to have such lovely daughters—but alas, it’s time I must share you with others.” He dramatically lamented, sliding against the doorframe. They all giggled at his dramatics, Rose slipping past him, shaking her head as she rolled her eyes. Rose came forward; slowly she looked over each one of them, lightly correcting a strand of hair, fixing a smudge of lipstick, or smoothing down a rumple in a dress. Louis’s keen eyes watched and waited until he noticed that Rose was satisfied with the girls before offering a hand. She graced him with a brilliant smile before calling them along as she took his hand. The group followed until they made it to the floo. One by one they called out.

 

“Black Estate-Derybshire”

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

 

It was just as magnificent as the last time she had been there; however, this time the welcome was much warmer. Arcturus stood relaxed with Melania, they were both in more comfortable wizarding clothes, a testament to their growing connection. Orion and Walburga had even shied away from their traditional black robes and wore dark blues. It still looked black under some lighting, but the change was noticeable enough. She, however, was stunned when her eyes finally landed on Sirius. It had only been a few weeks, but he had filled out, his baby fat finally gone completely, his sharp, masculine features blossomed and shined. His smile was mesmerizing, her heart fluttered— it was something that completely left her breathless. The other order members had always joked, always mentioned stories about “pretty boy” Black, but it didn’t do him justice. This, this was lethal.

 

His grey eyes sparkling as they connected with hers, his wild hair tied back and parted down the middle, small curling strands framed his face. A sharp jaw led her gaze down to a thick neck and further to the slightly exposed collarbones on his broad chest. He was wearing a white collared shirt, unbuttoned at the top; what nearly buckled her knees was how he had decided to roll up his sleeves, exposing his thick forearms. It didn’t help that his shirt clung tightly, accentuating his lean waist as it tucked into black pants. Pants that did nothing but highlight that he had the thickest Quidditch thighs she had ever had the pleasure of being so close to. Black dragon hide boots completed his outfit as they wrapped his feet and calves. Fuck.

 

He looked sinful.

 

He gave her the most devilish smirk, one that had actually made her choke. She tried to hide her face behind her sister’s back as she willed herself to gain control. She was panicking slightly as she knew she had to be blushing terribly. Quickly trying to cool her heated cheeks as the rest of her family went through the normal introductions, she cursed the gods when she felt his magic tickle her senses; when his hands covered her own, she nearly died when his husky chuckle caressed her ears.

 

He gently pried her hands away from her face as he smiled down at her.

 

“Hello, Princess.”

 

She cried internally, her mind urging her to speak, to say something—anything but stand there dazed and speechless.

 

“You know, I understand I’m pretty handsome, but this is the second time I’ve left a girl speechless because of it.”

 

She closed her eyes and groaned, smacking her face into his chest, trying to at least hide what she could. She could feel the low rumbling in his chest as he laughed, his whole body vibrating and shaking her. Someone just Avada her now. He dropped her hands to wrap his arms around her; she placed hers against his chest, pinching him lightly on his chest before looking up.

 

“Hello, Siri.”

 

His eyes softened.

 

“I missed you, princess.”

 

She stood on her tippy toes to reach her arms around his shoulders, squeezing tightly.

 

“I missed you too, Sirius.” she mumbled into his chest. Her mind unhelpfully noticing it was much firmer than she was used to.

 

He pulled her tighter, their magic joining for just a moment, his embrace, his scent enveloping her—she didn’t want to let go.

 

“Ahem.” It was soft but just as effective as if it had been yelled.

 

They both pulled away slowly, Hermione giggling at the sour look on Sirius’s face.

 

“Sirius darling, why don’t you greet the others now?” Walburga, interjected, eyes blank as she lifted a brow. He scowled deeply but went to greet the rest of her family, her eyes tracking his overly expressive form. Walburga closed the gap, coming up to take hold of her hands; Hermione snapped her attention back to the woman in front of her. Walburga squeezed her hands lightly before placing kisses on each cheek.

 

“It is good to see you again, I hope all is well?” Walburga rubbed her thumbs against the backs of her hands.

 

“Thank you, We,” she tilted her head toward her family.

 

“Are doing excellent, and you?” She chimed with an easy smile on her face as she squeezed back. It was small, but there was a warmth there; a tiny shard her magic had picked up, barely burning, but there all the same.

 

“We are well, but I will be much better if you do not turn that stubborn boy’s brain into further mush. Please, he is challenging enough without the added distraction.” Walburga dropped one of her hands. Moving to push a curl that had fallen into her face, pale eyes assessing her completely.

 

“You’ve chosen well; you look striking today.” she cooed, in a tone of voice she had never heard before, far from the shrill shrieking remembered from her portrait, nor the cold formality of their last visit. Hermione was shocked; the blush she had barely begun to get rid of came back in full force.

 

“T—Thank you, you look beautiful as well.” she barely stammered out. It seemed today her mind was rebelling, for there were one too many shocking events occurring too rapidly for her to keep up. It didn’t help that her rebellious eyes decided to zero in on the firm behind wrapped in black in her periphery. Wow.

 

“Of course I do, except mine was more intentional; it would be a shame not to highlight something so exquisite.” She smirked as she pulled her arm under her own, head tilted up confidently, as she slowly walked her toward the rest of the family.

 

The confidence, the absolute absurdity of the day, caused her to laugh out loud—maybe Sirius was a bit like his mother after all.

 

After introductions were made, Sirius swiftly reclaimed his position at her side; she could feel the heavy stares on their backs as Sirius led them ahead of the rest. She had to crane her neck to look up at him; the boy was growing like a weed. She wondered briefly if his Animagus transformation had contributed to his recent.. changes. She quickly looked forward once more.

 

“You can’t do this to me, Princess.” His low voice whispered right next to her ear, startling her out of her wandering thoughts, nearly tripping as she remembered she was in fact still walking. She kept her eyes straight; however, her traitorous hand continued to wander across the muscular forearm trapped between them. She couldn’t believe his skin was so soft.

 

“Do what?”

“Look so beautiful that my chest aches. It’s rather painful.”

 

Heat, she could feel it race across her face, blood rushing forward, flooding her cheeks and ears, even slipping down her neck.

 

“I’ll do my best to not hurt you then.” She quipped back, leaning into his shoulder.

“What did I do to deserve such punishment?” He protested, pressing back.

“Punishment, how so?”

“Not being able to gaze upon something so lovely would be torture, so wound me, hurt me thoroughly, and often, Princess.” His voice was soft and breathless; she couldn’t help but pause, couldn’t help but turn to soak in the look of adoration on his face. Her pulse skyrocketed. He’s a flirt; he’s just joking, Hermione. He’s just playing… Although every cell in her body burned.

 

It seemed this day was not done with blindsiding her; before she could muster up a single reply, Arcturus had caught up to the both of them. Melania slipped from her husband’s arms, elegantly navigating to her side, pulling with just enough force to separate them—Melania smiled at Sirius before leading her down a separate path.

 

“This way , dear; Sirius needs to speak with his grandfather for a bit.” She tutted.

 

She turned to look back. Sirius was still standing in place, the light from the hall shining behind his back, illuminating his form. Arcturus was leaning close, whispering in his ear. Yet his eyes stayed on her. Her heart clenched as she prayed it wouldn’t betray her.

 

The small echo of heels against the wooden floors accompanied them on their way. She didn’t know where they were going, but she was curious as she observed the hundreds of pictures hung upon the walls: portraits of ancestors, lost masterpieces centuries old, even one small piece that looked suspiciously like a child’s artwork. Melania led them both to another parlor; there, in the middle of the room, was a simple table, tea already steaming and awaiting them. There wasn’t another soul around, human or otherwise. Her mind was racing on what else might be happening today.

 

Melania separated as she made her way to her seat, gesturing for Hermione to follow. It took a moment for both to settle before Melania broke the silence.

 

“While Walburga ensures your family is taken care of and your sisters are introduced to their tutors, I wanted to take a moment to speak with you alone.” Picking up her teacup, she lightly sipped it before setting it back down.

Hermione simply waited, even more curious as to what the Black matriarch would need to speak with her about. They separated you. Her hackles rising.

 

“Let us not waste our time being coy nor weeding through false pleasantries. I know it is not your parents who are the head of your house, nor is it your elder sister.” Melania leaned back in her chair, manicured nails tapping on the tablecloth.

 

“You certainly are an impressive Mudblood, but a Mudblood nonetheless.”

 

Hermione bit the side of her cheek, fighting not to respond to the obvious provocation, while the words were harsh, Melania’s magic was cautious and inquisitive. Her eyes, however, betrayed her, narrowing minutely as the darker parts of her whispered how easy it would be to hex her.

 

“Regardless of what you accomplish, no matter how you shine, that is what those who hold power will say about you and, by extension, will use to attack our heir, our house. And so, you will need more than pure will and excellence.”

 

Pulling a dark black book from her robes, she set it on the table, sliding it toward Hermione.

 

“Against all odds, our families are now allied together; against thousands of years of history, you, a mudblood, hold the reins of our future. And so, this will help you ensure we remain on top. For that is the only way both of our families survive this. Do you understand?”

 

She reached, picking up the black book. It was made with a premium leather, blank in its lack of embellishments or titles yet radiating with power. She opened the book, eyes widening as she devoured the contents, one page then another.

 

“I understand, and I am honored that you have shared this with me.”

 

They shared tea together, both silent as Hermione absorbed the treasure held firmly between her fingertips. For the book held the darkest secrets of each and every family within the British Sacred 28. Secrets of current and old monarchs, governments, and groups. As the hour passed, Hermione closed the book, eyes glittering with satisfaction, carefully setting it back on the table, sliding it back to Melania. The surprised look on her face satisfied her earlier rage.

 

“I think we’ll get along nicely.” The smile she gave was truly vicious.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

“Sirius, come along.” Arcturus commanded, his tone amused as he watched his grandson pout. He turned, walking off without checking whether he had listened. However, the grunting and puffs of annoyance he heard assured him that Sirius was in fact following along. Orion would be joining them in his study once he helped Walburga with the Evans.

 

When he opened his study door, he was pleasantly surprised to find Orion inside waiting for them. Moving quickly, he went to the drink carrier and poured three glasses of whiskey. Orion silently came to stand beside him; he offered one of the drinks, which Oiron took before taking the other and walking over to Sirius, who had not moved away from the door. There was confusion and suspicion painted across his face, his magic vibrating just under his skin, palpable to everyone in the room as he handed him the glass. Arcturus hoped this conversation would go well.

 

“Take a drink and sit down, Sirius.” Arcturus commanded, his hand coming up to close the door.

Of course he did not sit, standing defiantly as he quickly drank down the whiskey in the glass. Arcturus was slightly impressed that he didn’t even flinch at the bite before taking a sip of his own. Orion walked over and handed him a large stack of parchment. He flipped through a few before walking over and handing the stack to Sirius.

 

“You are getting older, and as the heir to our house, you need to start thinking seriously about your future. We have already gotten quite a few offers from other families—” Before he could continue his speech, Orion yelped as Sirius set fire to the marriage offers. His eyes were burning with contempt as he slowly made his way over to both men. The magic in the room crackled, tightening, pressing upon them.

 

“I refuse. I will continue to refuse any offer you place in front of me. This is not something I will bend to. “Sirius hissed out, eyes blackening, body tense as he stared them down.

 

There was a prickling feeling of fear that ran through Arcturus’s body as he watched his grandson, slowly transform. Gone was the rambunctious jokester, and in his place was an echo of blossoming power. His black blood rejoiced.

 

“So you’ve chosen to take that path then?” Orion grunted out before he polished off his drink. Wincing as he set the glass down on the desk next to them.

“If you mean Hermione, then yes.”

 

“If you mean it, if you truly want it, then there is no more fighting us, Sirius. If you want to protect her, if you want to live to see a future with her in it, you must grab hold and master everything a true heir must. Do you understand?” Orion questioned. Both men held their breaths as Sirius’s head tilted. Goosebumps traveled up their arms, his eyes now black, the smile that took over his face put both men on edge.

 

“Yes, but I want something more.” Sirius whispered out, low and deep. The candles in the room flickered. The wards of the estate shuddered and sighed. Arcturus’s heart was racing, his father’s portrait silent as it watched him from above the study’s mantel.

 

Slowly Sirius moved, his hands coming to pull a folded piece of parchment from his pockets.

 

Arcturus hesitated just a moment as he stared at the single sheet in Sirius’s hand. Steel grey eyes observed the quiet confidence of his grandson, the power in his form as he took the reins of his future. It was as if his magic compelled him, his mind now intrigued as he took the parchment from his hands. Unfolding it as Orion leaned in, both of their eyes quickly read over the contents. Mother Magic had truly favored the Black family. Orion turned eyes sparkling with delighted madness as he gazed at his son in adoration.

 

“Truly?” he asked, hope heavy in his question.

 

Sirius gave him a beautiful smile filled with wild savagery.

 

“Yes. Will you help me?”

Arcturus beamed, eyes crinkling in joy. Orion laughed as he moved to pull Sirius into a hug.

 

“Of course.”

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

He prowled the halls as he made his way to the greenhouse. They had been separated for far too long; his skin had begun to itch. She was so close, was even in one of his family’s homes, and he had not even been able to enjoy it fully, hadn’t been able to soak in her brilliance. It was blasphemy. He ignored the silenced portraits as they raged and paced, the ones his grandfather had promised to move since they could not hold their vicious tongues. He had enjoyed relaying to them all the ways he would extinguish their bound existences if they continued to spout hateful anti-Muggle born rhetoric before Hermione arrived, but there was a deep satisfaction now that they would be stored away, their additional paintings removed from other properties and exiled to the same dark purgatory as their main portraits. He’d make sure to come back and ward the room, ensuring no one would ever find them again unless he wished.

 

Perhaps a few centuries alone in the dark would help them turn around.

 

Everything inside of him was singing the closer he got to the greenhouse. As he made his way, he allowed his instincts to guide him; he had been attuned to her before, but after his Animagus transformation everything had heightened. Every emotion intensified, to the point that even he worried, worried about scaring her off. He knew she would more than likely hex him than shy away, but the mere thought was enough to make him nauseous.

 

He found his goddess, nestled between her namesake, humming as she lightly touched the petals. He stood dumbstruck at her beauty, something that only seemed to grow, becoming more painfully profound as time went by.

 

“You’re going to make them jealous, you know.” he murmured, eyes roving over her seated form.

 

“Mmm, that would be a shame, wouldn’t it?”

she replied as she set down the flower she had been smelling.

“Who are you speaking about?” She teased as she turned to welcome him. He quickly made his way to her side, hands coming up to pick out the petals that had fallen into her hair as he gazed down on her. As his fingers ran through her curls, his thoughts filled with their luxurious softness how her tantalizing scent blended harmoniously into the surrounding garden.

 

“Every flower in this greenhouse— for nothing is as beautiful as the peony before me.”

His greedy eyes swept across her growing blush, across the darkness of her eyes. More, he so desperately wanted more.

 

“Not even the Lilies? The petunias? Or even the thousands of roses around us?” she whispered. It was meant to be playful, meant to be teasing, but Sirius could hear the slight insecurity in her voice and see it in the way she had looked down as she asked, body bracing as if she expected him to confess it was a joke or, worse, that there was something that could possibly be more beautiful to him. That wouldn’t do.

 

He gently guided her face back, waiting until she blessed him with those golden gems, and waited as she relaxed in his hold before responding.

 

“Nothing is more beautiful than the flower I’m holding now, Princess.”

 

Hermione’s heart was beating out of her chest as a deep, rolling contentment flowed through her at his words; they sounded so sincere. Magic blazing, moving to her unconscious desires, reaching out to connect, to pull him closer. Her mind quieting as she gazed upon his features, her heart filled with him—she moved, reaching up to trail her fingers across his face, relishing how his eyes closed, how he leaned into her touch as she explored. There was a warm, bubbling feeling rippling in her chest; he was just so much more than she had ever imagined. So much more magnificent and wondrous than anyone she had ever met. He felt safe; he always made her feel like she was important—more than important, that she was seen.

 

Maybe, maybe she could trust him with this little piece of herself.

 

She couldn’t help it when she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, her magic just as wild and desperate as it mixed with his. Gasping, his eyes snapped open, hazy, burning, and black, pupils dilated as his hand came up to trace the spot. The world silenced, their magic growing and expanding, swallowing up the room.

 

It happened so quickly—the way he moved, the way he pulled her into his arms, cradling her head as he lowered his face to hers, hesitating for just a moment. It was unspoken the way his eyes begged, the way they pleaded with her, but it burned her all the same. She nodded, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt him close the distance. His soft lips pressed against hers as he trembled and clung to her as if she was his world. Their magic burned through them both, like a thick, heady stream of pleasure, as her heart rejoiced. Light presses deepened as he let out a groan; those traitorous hands of hers slid higher and higher as they found their way to his bound locks, digging deep as she pressed her body closer, he melted in her arms.

 

He inhaled deeply as he pulled her tighter, not allowing even an inch of space to separate them as his lips rushed to devour hers. His hands tangled in her hair, shooting tingling sensations from head to toe; his firm body crushed against hers, his heart beating fiercely in his chest—his taste, his scent made her whimper. She felt whole. It was an ecstasy, a divine connection that burned her so thoroughly, so agonizingly wonderful that the moment they pulled back, the moment she looked into his beautiful eyes, she nearly wept. Her hands clung to him, unwilling to part. Her lips bruised and throbbing as heat rushed through her form.

 

She liked him, terribly so.

 

She ignored the soft whisper, the small part of her that scoffed as she gave him a dazzling smile.

 

Ignored how her heart nearly exploded as he gave her a devastating smile in return.

 

Ignored that little voice that whispered-

 

You’re fucked.

 

You don’t like him, Hermione. You love him.

Notes:

<3

Chapter 35: Kashmir

Summary:

Every good gardener knows, sometimes you have to reap the harvest.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic.

TW: Graphic torture

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“The reasonable man adapts himself to the world: the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man.”― George Bernard Shaw

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July 1st, 1974 Grimmauld, Night

 

The heavens were breathtaking as the night sky was filled with thousands of shining shards of burning stars. The radiance of cosmic entities billions of light-years away reached to the far ends of the galaxy, filling the vastness of one sky with countless wonders. He was lost, a mere speck of dust in the infinite space of the cosmos, yet he burned. Burned so brightly he felt as if he could rival the sun. Feverish as his mind replayed their kiss, the way her body felt in his arms, and the way she had claimed his lips. The way his soul had unraveled and was remade at the sound of her soft whimper. He was fucked, royally. Because now he knew—he had held the sun in his hands, tasted the ambrosia of the gods, and dined on one of the most decadent meals a starving man like him could ever have. He wanted more desperately.

 

His hands shook as he sat upon his chair, shirt torn apart as he pressed against her mark. The light of the stars—of the moon—crushed as the darkness devoured the light.

 

Merlin, help him.

 

July 11th, 1974, Undisclosed Location, Night

 

“Are you sure, Sirius?” Orion cautioned, dressed in all black, his form blending into the night; the silence of the surrounding forest amplified his deep voice, amplified the severity of his question.

 

“Yes.” It was such a simple word, yet it damned him all the same as he steeled himself for what was to come. Reminding himself that he was the one who had requested this, the one that wanted this, he took a deep breath and followed his father into the run-down shack. Down, down, down the long, winding hallways—a marvel of magical trickery—deeper and deeper into the darkness they went. At the end of the hallway was a monstrosity of oak and steel, a door decorated with twisting pieces of goblin steel that held countless enchantments; yet the light of the candle used inside peeked through the cracks. Orion moved with a deadly grace, his firm hands moving slowly as he opened the door, his black gaze studying him, challenging him to back away. Sirius’s magic hissed in displeasure, his hackles rising at the unspoken provocation. He clenched his jaw as he made his way into the room; he could feel the eyes on him now. The silent judgment of weighted stares.

 

There in the middle of the room was the bound and gagged form of an unconscious Simon Nott.

 

Arcturus leaned against the back wall, dressed in all black as he looked to Alphard, who was quietly standing next to Simon’s form. His robes were the only ones with a slight embellishment, silver threads stitched and woven into the fabric across his collar. His wand tapped against his palm as he waited.

 

“There is no going back after this, Sirius. Say the word, and we’ll return him to his home and try a different way.” He knew it was a question, he knew it was for his benefit, and he knew they thought he wouldn’t have the stomach for it. But he worshiped a goddess, and this man in front of him was a nonbeliever. He closed his eyes and rolled his neck as the vicious part of him that had been growing blossomed, eyes slowly opening as he moved to circle the unconscious form. He was a gangly older wizard; this was a man who supported the Dark Lord, supported the blasphemy that would sooner see his witch dead or subservient. Silver shining underneath thick lashes in the darkened corners as he prowled the room, glowing-burning brightly as he came to stand before his grandfather.

 

What use was his soul when the most important piece was persecuted?

 

“Let’s begin.”

 

Arcturus nodded, a smile beaming on his face as he pulled a darkened wand from his robes, handing it over to Sirius. He rolled the wand between his fingers; it was a dark and twisted creature, yet the power that flowed in the wand was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It yielded beautifully under his hands, eager to be useful, yet he could feel it was a bit temperamental, as if it did not believe his will was strong enough—his devotion to his cause was firm enough.

He would show it.

 

“Revennerate”

 

Simon Nott gasped as he regained consciousness, his curses muffled by the cloth tied around his mouth. There was a poetic justice in seeing him strain against regular Muggle binds. Alphard smiled as he stepped forward, leaning down into a crouch as he flicked his wand; the cloth vanished.

 

“What the fuck is going on? Orion?” He snarled at Alphard before he noticed Orion standing at the door. All the men remained silent.

 

“Such a dirty mouth for an old man.” Sirius tsked as he walked around, coming to stand in front of him, his eyes catching how the exposed dark mark contrasted so darkly against his pale forearm.

 

“Wait, you are Sirius, aren’t you? Orion’s Boy?”

“Why yes, it’s good to see an elder such as yourself can still recognize people.” he chuckled.

 

“What the fuck is going on?” Nott demanded again, refusing to look at Sirius any longer. Now that, that just wouldn’t do.

 

Sirius smiled, leaning forward to rest his hands on both sides of his chair, his hands gripping the top as he blocked Nott’s view, caging him in. Nott flinched back, trying to put more distance between them. He could be defiant if he wanted, could refuse to look at him, but now his eyes had nowhere else to look but down. That’s better. Now look at me, you coward.

 

“Well, I’m going to ask some questions, and you will answer them,” he cooed.

 

“I’m not telling you shit. I remember now; you’re that fucking blood traitor heir. The whole Black family ought to be ashamed. I hear how you mess around with those Mudblo—”

It was sharp and powerful, his fist cracking against his open mouth; it snapped his head to the side, his entire body shuddering as it slumped. He cried out, cursing once more.

 

“FUCK”

 

Sirius smiled brighter as he watched the blood drip from his mouth as he sputtered and struggled to fight off the pain.

 

“Sometimes I wonder if they’ve bred out the intelligence with some of you.”

 

He moved to wipe his hand on Nott’s robe, sneering at the bit of drool that had made it onto his skin. His other hand gripped tightly as he pulled Nott back up by his cheeks, forcing him back into his upright position.

 

“Now that we’ve been properly introduced, as gentlemen should, tell me, what do you know about the Dark Lord?”

 

Nott paled, eyes narrowing.

Good, look at me.

 

Nott looked at him with disgust before he spat in Sirius’s face. Laughing as his blood marked him.

 

“There you go, that’s what real pureblood looks like. Not the muddy shit running through that whore of yours.” Sirius just blinked, his face unfazed as he waited.

 

Maybe he could cut out his tongue when they were done. He clearly didn’t cherish it at all.

 

“I’d never betray the dark lord; you’re just a child, nothing compared to the might of his power—you’ll have to kill me.” He claimed with a petulant smirk.

 

But he could practically smell it, the fear oozing out of him, and feel the quivering in his magic as it balked under him. Practically hear the violent pounding of his heart. He nearly sighed in delight, but that wouldn’t be fun; that would give away the game too early.

 

Sirius stepped back, not bothering to wipe the blood from his face as he pulled the dark wand. His eyes black.

 

“Honestly, I’ve been itching for a chance to relieve some frustration; this is excellent news.” Nott paled further. Ghastly white, a truly garish color on his gaunt face. Yet it thrilled him all the same.

 

He turned to look at the toothy smile on Alphard’s face and gave him one in return. He loved bonding with his favorite uncle.

 

Alphard remained crouched as he whispered out the curse.

 

“Crucio.”

 

Sirius debated silencing him; his screams were pathetic, but they were cathartic in a way, their unholy echoing, sharp and desperate—the withering thrashing of his body fed his bloodlust. Sated the wretched black blood dancing in his veins. Hermione would understand he was making the world safer for her. He watched for just a moment longer before pointing his wand at his crying face.

 

“Legilimens”

 

His magic burned, flooding the room as he broke through his mind, digging deep into his psyche as he ravaged each inch for the information he wanted. Eventually he found it; after the third or fourth crucio, after he had nearly turned the man’s mind to mush, he sank his fangs into the wealth of knowledge this Death Eater hid.

 

The wand in his hand practically vibrated in glee, bending to fulfill his every whim. supplying him with more power than he ever thought possible.

 

It was nearly 3 am by the time they were done; as his grandfather and his uncle cleaned up the mess, he followed his father back outside.

 

Orion stood off to the side of the shack, leaning against a tree as he lit a cigarette.

 

“You did excellent today, Sirius.”

 

Sirius nodded; a sick part of him wanted to lash out, wanted to hurt his father. Words he had desperately wanted to hear his whole life only came now, only after torturing an enemy of their house. But he bit his tongue and buried those thoughts deep as he came to stand next to him, his traitorous pulse racing as he savored the words. His father smirked and handed him his cigarette. Eyebrows furrowing, he took it, copying what his father had done. He placed it against his lips and inhaled, holding the smoke in his throat before he allowed it to travel to his lungs. Eyes wincing at the burn, but he relished it. He closed his eyes as he let out the smoke, holding in the desire to cough. He wanted another drag, wanted to feel it again, but he held off as he moved to hand it back. His father stopped him, pulling out another instead.

 

“Don’t tell your mother; she hates when I smoke cigars. I don’t believe she’ll be any happier knowing I’ve grown attached to these Muggle cigarettes.”

 

“But telling her about the torture would be okay?”

 

“Oh son, she might even bake you a cake if she knew.”

 

Now that made him laugh; it was so absurd to imagine—his mother had never baked a day in her life.

 

They both stood in silence as they smoked under the night sky.

 

July 13th, 1974, Black Estate

 

He nearly buckled at the sparkle in her eye as she taunted him, teased him as she raced through the trees. Beckoning him to continue the chase, tempting him to capture her. Oh, how his blood burned, how his mind splintered, reliving the feeling of their kiss as he ran, how the animalistic part of him howled in pleasure as he hunted her down. The sly fox had eluded him for nearly fifteen minutes—flashes of red and gold, soft scents of apple blossoms and desire ensnared his nose. His ears strained to hear the light crunches of leaves and grass as she weaved.

 

She led, and he followed, coming to an open clearing. She transformed, draped in a lovely blue dress, hair wild, skin flushed as she waited for him. He stalked over to her; he couldn’t help the wild wagging of his tail nor the soft whining pulled from his throat as he placed his face into her delicate hands. Nor the deep rumbling purr as she peppered his face with kisses while running her fingers through his fur. This is what paradise might feel like. He transformed, on his knees as if in worship as his hands reached up to hold her hips. Looking up at her stole his breath, his heart beating frantically as he seared her image into his memory. She was divine, but the most pleasurable thought of all was that he was hers, that this lovely little goddess of mischief and beauty had picked him. He groaned as she giggled, hands coming to cup his face as she leaned down and blessed him once more. He never wanted her to stop.

 

His skin burned where she touched, where she kissed, his blood and magic struggling to keep his heart from separating and living within her hands.

 

July 15th, 1974 Undisclosed Location, Night

 

“I won’t say it again, Travers. Share with the class, what do you know about the Dark Lord?” Sirius laughed as he stabbed a dagger into his hand. The crunching grit vibrated up his dagger; he could feel the bones separating and feel the tendons snapping as he twisted it.

 

His eyes were soaking in the tears and trails of snot dripping from his face as he sobbed. How Pathetic. Was this the caliber of wizard in the Dark Lord’s inner circle? There was a curious numbness this time; there was only so much satisfaction he could gain when his prey was bound. He was itching for a fight, itching to take his hands and beat this disgusting Death Eater, but he needed the information more. Needed to know who the other nonbelievers were. The unmarked that slipped into their society like a pestilence.

 

“Tsk tsk tsk, Alphard, I think this one also wants a more personal experience. Should we accommodate him?” He smirked as he ripped the dagger from his flesh; Travers screamed so shrilly he nearly laughed again. He examined the obsidian dagger in his hands; it was a beautiful ancestral piece, something that was almost included in his cousin Bella’s dowry. Alas, it was not, and once his grandfather had banned Cygnus’s branch, with the exception of Andy and Cissy, from all other Black properties, it was now unequivocally his. He wiped a bit of blood off the handle before setting it on the small table next to them. It was beautiful under the moonlight, the blade covered in blood.

 

“Why yes, my darling nephew, I believe we should.”

Four sets of Black eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

 

“Crucio.”

 

“Legilimens”

 

Always a cigarette after. Always silence as they watched the moon. His mind recoiling at the memories he found, at the countless revels the sick bastard had participated in—there was one, a young girl. He couldn’t see the face, but her hair, those wild curls, the color of auburn, and the way her body matched too closely to Hermione had sent him into a vicious rage.

 

He had torn from his disgusting mind, throwing his body at him as he pummeled his face. Accidentally blackening his father’s eye as Arcturus and Orion struggled to pull him off, he felt a bit guilty now, but in that moment he had thought about tearing into them too. Bristling when they ordered him to wait outside as they finished, eventually he complied. His hands were shaking, bloodied, and bruised as he tried to light another. Grunting in frustration as the wind snuffed out his flame, he held back his surprise when his father turned, finally looking at him as he blocked the air. Black eyes appraising him as he lit the cigarette hanging in his mouth. He nodded to him as he greedily inhaled. Merlin, that’s better.

 

“Tell me when it becomes too much, Sirius; I will handle the rest.”

 

He nearly growled.

 

The problem wasn’t that it was too much—it wasn’t enough; his bloodlust was nowhere near satisfied.

 

July 18th, 1974 Journal Entry

 

“Is it weird for me to say I miss you?”

“Never, because I miss you the moment you leave my sight.”

 

“What are we, Sirius?”

“We are whatever you want, Princess.”

“But what if what I want is different?”

“Then I’ll tell you what I want—I want to be yours, your wizard, your boyfriend as the muggles call it. I want whatever you’ll bless me with, Hermione; I’m yours in whatever role you desire.”

 

“Then it’s no different, because I want to be yours, your witch, your girlfriend.”

 

“Are you sure? I don’t think I’ll survive if you’re teasing me, Princess.”

 

“Sirius, I’m yours.”

 

He couldn’t put it down and couldn’t bear to part with the words.

 

He was her wizard. She was his witch.

 

His witch

 

HIS.

 

July 20th, 1974 Black Estate

 

His heart was bursting as he entwined his hand with hers, his fingers tightening gently as he lifted them both to press a kiss on the back of her skin. He would rather not lift his lips, rather not separate himself further from her, but he could feel the eyes upon them. A small part of him wondered if it would really be so bad if he hexed them all. Of course he didn’t want to, and they were his family, not to mention her family, but they were cutting into his worship of his witch, and that just rubbed him raw.

 

Although her pretty little smile stole his concentration, her lovely voice filled his ears with delight. Merlin, her warm magic nearly crushed his heart with how pleasurable it felt teasing him. She was so cruel expecting him to be able to function when she destroyed every ounce of his will. Merlin, he loved it.

 

“I’m a bit nervous. I’ve practiced dancing before, but I haven’t had the chance to practice with a partner.”

 

His heart soared; he’d dance until his feet bled and his body failed him, go as long as her heart desired. For once he gave thanks to his mother. The witch had beaten him bloody, starved him, and denied him at every turn when he was younger, but she had given him this small gift—the skills he’d be able to use to make Hermione happy. It was worth it in the end, he supposed.

 

As the music started, he pulled her flush against his body; the instructor’s tsk of disapproval was easily ignored, his hands instinctively positioning themselves into the proper form as he gently guided her through the first few steps. His mind was heady as his eyes lowered, his body heating as he felt her move against him, felt a soft sliver of exposed skin in her back. He nearly groaned in delight as he felt her shapely legs sliding between his. Each touch, each turn sent waves of ecstasy through his mind, his heart—through the deepest reaches of his soul. The music’s tempo increased, his feet guiding them both, his sturdy form compensating for any hesitation, any mistake. More and more they twirled about the ballroom, each second feeding his hunger and soothing his ache as she melted into his arms, into following his will.

 

This was his witch, his goddess that was flushed and happy, branding him with her dazzling smile and delicious scent.

 

He felt it before it happened, his body moving, twisted as he shielded her from the harsh switch that landed on his shoulder. Her lovely eyes were wide in shock; he had felt the jolt of her body and could smell the slight fear that had crept into her scent. It boiled his blood.

 

He simply pulled her closer, chuckling a bit before giving her a reassuring smile. He felt the change, the trust she placed in him as she returned his smile and leaned into his chest. He turned his head slowly, eyes filled with rage as he looked at the pale instructor. It was the same man who had tutored him when he was younger.

 

“Ne bougez pas de cet endroit”

“Comme vous le commandez” The instructor flinched but dared not move.

 

He guided her out of the room to the sitting parlor where their family had moved. Leading her to a chair, he dropped to his knees as she sat, slowly pushing up the hem of her dress, his hands almost betraying him as they accidentally caressed her skin. Once her hem was secured in her lap, he picked up her left leg, his hands sliding to her delicate ankle as he appreciated her supple skin, his mind helpfully supplying that they would look good around his waist—might even taste just as wonderful. His deft fingers pulled on the clasps of her heel, slowly slipping it off her foot as he massaged her ankle and foot. The slight groan she gave him was confirmation enough; he had suspected that she had hurt herself by the way she had leaned more heavily on his arm as they left.

 

He looked up, eyes intense as he greedily devoured her flushed cheeks and slender neck. What he would give up if only he could run his tongue up it.

 

“Tell me, next time don’t you dare try to pretend it doesn’t hurt, Princess.”

Her pupils grew, something that almost made him purr.

 

“I’ll tell you, I promise.”

 

He smiled before looking down and casting a healing charm for sprains on her ankle; he felt her sag in relief. He slowly slipped her shoe back on and regretfully lowered her dress to cover her delectable legs. Before he could get up, she leaned forward, her arm reaching out to gently touch the spot on his shoulder where the switch struck.

 

“And this?”

“Doesn’t hurt in the least bit, I promise.”

He took her hand, moving it from his shoulder, and pressed a quick kiss to it. He was flooded once again with dopamine. Squeezing it before letting go and standing.

 

“Excuse me, love; I need to talk to the instructor for a moment.”

 

“Be nice.”

“Of course.”

 

He was smiling as he left her, smiling as he made his way back into the ballroom where the fucker was still standing. If he had any self-preservation, he would have left, would have gone straight to his parents, and departed. That switch would have hit her lovely wrist; the wizard had intended for it to hit her. The scent of smug condescension was too heavy to ignore in that moment, and his body reacted appropriately. He was smiling as he made his way across the floor, practically jubilant as he slammed his hand into his throat and squeezed, strangling the struggling wizard as he forced him backward, slamming him into the wall behind him. She had said to be nice, so he would nicely warn him.

 

“Look at me.” He commanded. Ignoring the way his face started to turn purple, ignoring the way his nails bit into his skin. Those shaking, bloodshot eyes trembled as they finally looked up from the floor.

 

“Don’t you ever fucking think for a moment I didn’t know what you intended to do.”

 

“Ensuite, c’est la mort.”

He squeezed harder, and even though he was an older wizard, even though he was slightly taller, there was nothing the wizard could do to pull his hand from his neck. Before the wizard completely passed out, he let go. There was a sense of displeasure watching him suck in air, but he was supposed to be nice.

 

He smiled once more.

 

Patting the man’s cheek before calling for Alton.

 

The elf bowed low.

 

“Please escort him out. He’s no longer required.”

 

July 30th, 1974 Undisclosed Location, Night

 

“Shit, he’s loose! After him!”

 

Orion and Sirius rushed ahead, lobbing spell after spell at the fleeing Death Eater. The bastard Tantum Yaxley had been more skilled than their informants had been able to determine. With a fine bit of wandless magic, he had temporarily stunned his father and Alphard before freeing himself. They had his wand so he couldn’t apparate, but the warded property they were running through was dense. His blood was racing, singing as the beast within him awoke, and his senses expanded. Eyes glowing as he followed his prey, ears picking up his desperate cursing and his labored pants, his nose picking up his terror—it was sweet, so so sweet. This is what he had wanted, the chase, this exhilaration as adrenaline raced, as his body burned, and as his muscles surged.

 

“Fuck, we can’t let him get away, Sirius; he’s too close to him,” his father forced out between whispered curses. Arm moving with precision as he flung more hexes, trying to force him in the direction they wanted.

 

“If he makes it to the wardline, that’s it.”

 

“Then he won’t make it.” Sirius hissed.

 

The hunt was on.

 

Yaxley ran, his heart beating out of his chest as trees exploded behind him. The only light filtered through the treetops as he ran; he tripped and fell as he scrambled over a raised log. His heart was racing, his eyes straining in the dark as he fled. He would need to tell the Dark Lord that it was the Blacks who had started picking off their higher members. Whispers had started, small conversations of speculation and even less spoken ones of fear. After finding out Nott was in the Janice Thicky ward with incurable brain damage and Travers had been found wandering the streets of Diagon, his mind so oblivated that he thought he was a child—well, it had everyone on edge.

 

The Dark Lord had been furious.

 

And he had been stupid enough to accept a drink from an old friend, ignorantly thinking it would be nice to numb his mind and body as he healed from being beneath his lord’s wand. Instead of numbness and relief, he woke up strapped into a bloody chair, with a wand at his throat.

 

He wheezed as he slowed, the throbbing pinch in his side and legs nearly hobbling him as he pushed through the dense brush. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, no longer as in shape as when he had first been inducted as a knight. He felt the strain tenfold and cursed it as he willed himself forward. It was quiet now, no more shouting, no more spells to duck or exploding trees. He stopped just for a moment to catch his breath, eyes wild as he looked around. There was an ominous feeling in his gut as he looked up toward the canopy; the light of the moon struggled to reach his spot.

 

It was too quiet, his mind warned, his magic coiled tight against his body.

 

Wrong, there was something wrong with the eerie silence that had swallowed the night.

 

A snap of a twig echoed behind him. He twisted around swiftly, heart banging in his chest, pumping painfully as his eyes found two glowing gold orbs in the darkness. The deafening, vicious growl that filled the clearing petrified him to his core; tears escaped, running down his face as he tried to will his body to move, yet his limbs wouldn’t listen. The clouds shifted, revealing the large, menacing form of a Grim, yet this beast wasn’t a specter—it happened quickly, those golden eyes clearing the distance between them, its thundering steps ringing in his ears, white, gleaming, monstrous fangs opening before they struck, clamping around his neck, strangling and tearing deep into his jugular. Intense pain as the weight of the beast landed on his chest, suffocation as he failed to draw in air, failed to cry, his lungs and mouth filling with blood, his arms weakening as he tried to fight the beast off. It growled again, tightening its hold before sharply twisting its head. There was a piercing crack as his neck snapped.

 

Blackness.

 

Orion held Arcturus back tightly, both struggling to control their breathing as they watched. Orion couldn’t believe his eyes; his mind couldn’t reconcile with reality as he watched the Grim rip out Yaxley’s throat. Arcturus’s mouth curving into a wicked smile.

 

Alphard paled, his body tense, his wand raised, yet the marvel in his eyes couldn’t be masked.

 

The light shifted, the moon illuminating the massive form as it continued to snarl and growl as it tore apart its prey. Blood and flesh, violent magic commanding the air, filling them with euphoria, feeding them, riling them to their cores. Fiends of bloodlust and madness relishing in the offering before them.

 

It was over quickly, but it would live in their memories for a lifetime. The magic in the air rippled as the Grim shrunk, transforming back into a man.

 

 

Sirius stared at the mangled form beneath his feet, eyes glowing with pleasure as he stepped back, further into the light of the moon.

 

He stared and stared, his mind racing as he lifted his hands. They were covered in blood, dripping with the flesh of the Death Eater, yet it filled him with a perverse satisfaction. His mouth was full of it, the tangy iron blood; his veins were filled with the euphoria of the magic burning within. His mind was finally calm, finally free of the spiraling need to protect. He could hear her, with her enchanting voice, whispering in his ear, You’re magnificent, Sirius. He could feel the warmth in his chest expanding. This threat was eradicated.

 

It was easy, far, far too easy.

 

He laughed uncontrollably, deep barking laughs, as he slowly turned to his family, running his hands over his slick face, those same bloodied hands running back up through his hair. He could hear their racing hearts and see their shocked expressions in the dark, but most of all he could smell their adoration and their pride. This fucking family of his.

 

He finally stopped, finally controlled his laughter as they hesitantly walked over. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his torn shirt, his hands elegantly slipping it between his lips as he wandlessly lit it. He felt powerful. He felt in control, and he craved more of it, this heady feeling revitalizing his body. Inhaling deep, he closed his eyes, his hand coming up to press against her mark on his neck—groaning at the delicious burn as he let out the smoke. This was the closest he could get, the closest he had ever felt to recreating how his witch made him feel.

 

They were silent as they cleaned up the mess. His mind filled the void as that divine feeling slipped through his hands, fading from his blood as the night fled.

 

I need more.

 

 

Woe is the madness of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.

Chapter 36: Some Kind of Wonderful

Summary:

Water, sun, and fertilizer—one must continually care for their garden, supplying it with as much nurturing as it might need.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; this is my first fanfic.

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“Never with my eyes will I see something both as beautiful and as cruel as the human soul.”―Mr. Luc Jorgart,

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July 30th, 1974 Black Estate, 3am

 

They were silent as they walked through the halls; the creeping darkness of the night seeped through the estate’s walls and penetrated the very air in which they breathed. There was a heaviness, a pressure that sparked their magic and seared their veins as the events of the night replayed. Fiends of mayhem and revelry, masked in elegantly tailored robes and set behind handsome faces.

 

Yet the dynamics of the men had changed; a visceral hierarchy had been unconsciously established, branding into their cores, permeating into their psyches.

 

Sirius walked half lucid through the halls; the others simply fell in line behind him as he made his way to his grandfather’s study. His eyes dragging over the gaps, the new patches of wall that had become available after ripping out the nonbelievers. He wondered if Hermione would let him have a portrait done—or, if she was amenable, several. He wanted to see her, her smiling face, her laughing, or her reading. He truly wanted to see her.

 

The door to the study was open; as he walked inside, he made his way over to the window, his black eyes drinking in the moonlight.

 

There was silence as each man found their way to a corner of the room. Alphard sulked near the bookshelves, a full bottle of opened liquor in his hand instead of a glass. Orion moved toward the drink tray, slowly pouring out three glasses. Arcturus grabbed one before heading to his chair behind his desk. Orion offered the whiskey glass to Sirius, nodding in affirmation when his hand came up to take it before moving back to hover around the drink tray.

 

Peace, if only for a few minutes, as the spirits flowed through each, muscles relaxed, smiles dared to appear, and once thoroughly soused, words were uttered once more.

 

“What was that form, Sirius?” Arcturus inquired as he closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, his hand still coming up to bring the newly filled glass of whiskey to his lips. Both Orion and Alphard paused, hazy eyes trying to focus on the imposing form next to the window.

 

“Animagus.” He hissed out, as he tried to ignore the burn of the whiskey. This was an excellent year his father had chosen.

 

“Not possible, you’re what? Only a third year now?” Alphard argued, a sloppy smile on his lips as he waved the bottle in his hand at Sirius.

 

“Yes, but you saw it. It was a fun bit of magic to learn.”

 

“I’m guessing the girl must be one, since this is something so niche to pursue at this age.” Orion grunted, eyes flickering to the chaise across the room as if he was contemplating face-planting into it. His hazy eyes looked to Sirius’s brooding face.

 

“Regulus?”

 

“No, he’s just a boy.” Just the thought of his brother in this moment curdled his stomach. Regulus would be ruined by this; no, he was much better uninvolved.

 

“Who knows, maybe I just wanted to impress her.” She had asked him to keep it a secret, so he would.

 

“Gods, really? How many of you did it? It’s for that ministry boy, isn’t it?” Arcturus opened his eyes as he snapped his fingers, mind sluggish as he tried to make the connection.

 

There was a deep rumbling growl, one that got all the men’s attention, eyes now wide and much sharper than before.

 

“You best keep that to yourself. It’s a secret for a reason.” His hand tightened on the whiskey glass. There was silence as the words were digested.

 

“Unregistered, then.” Orion stated after finally deciding to lay down on the chaise, although he determined that laying on his back would be a much better option than face down at the moment. He groaned as he settled in, one arm coming up to cover his face, the other still clinging to his drink.

 

“Brilliant is what it is. That was beautiful, cousin.” Alphard let out a sigh as he found a chair to slide into, a twisted smile on his face as his unfocused eyes stared into the ceiling.

 

“You were magnificent, Sirius. Truly.” Arcturus slurred as he started to slump into his seat, the glass in his hand empty.

 

“I want to do it again. A bit differently next time.” Sirius whispered.

“Then we will, we will.” Orion smiled as he mumbled out.

 

 

July 31st, 1974 Ministry of Magic (Morning)

 

Black bricks stacked higher and higher, beneath the towering columns of red and gold, beneath the stern gaze of the ministry statues, impatient employees waited as they were verified to enter. The air was charged more than normal, the darkness creeping in as Death Eater attacks became more and more magical. No longer could they casually brush it off, claiming that it was “really only Muggles and Mudbloods.” There was a stifling stillness now; lips no longer speculated, smiles no longer reached their eyes, and words no longer expressed genuine thoughts but carefully measured ambiguity. Thousands of eyes were watching, yet no one could be certain of who owned them.

 

“Come on, next up.” The grumbling security guard mumbled out, eyes glazed with sleep as he absentmindedly tapped his thumb on the metal stand in front of him.

 

“Good morning,” the guard winced, the tone too cheery, too enthusiastic. The beaming smile on the witch’s face was equally disarming this early in the morning.

 

“Hand over your wand and state your name.” He reached his hand out; the woman happily placed the wand in his hand. He grimaced at all the excessive movement.

 

“Delilah Taylor.”

 

The guard moved to place the wand on the glass orb embedded in his stand. As the wand passed over, it glowed green. He grunted before handing it back.

 

“All clear, Next.”

 

Delilah smiled just as brightly before taking her wand and stepping through the threshold. Sleek red hair shined in under the glaring ministry lights as she made her way to the lifts, smiling at Carson Davies as he waved. The old man was a talker, so she tried to avoid him by slinking back into a thicker crowd. Once inside the lift, she squeezed around the tightly packed bodies to press the button for level 2. Pushing forward, she maneuvered once more around the tight grouping to move to the back of the lift. She sighed in contentment when she finally made it grabbing hold of a golden rope.

 

“Oh hey Deli, good morning!” A mousy voice exclaimed, causing her to jolt as her eyes looked around. It took a moment before she realized she needed to focus her gaze down. There beside her was an extremely short witch with pinched features that fit with her mousy voice. She was older, wearing black robes and a silver pin of a snake on her collar. There was a flicker of recognition in her eyes before she responded.

 

“Margery, good morning! How are you doing today?” She gave a cheery smile.

 

“Quite well, as you know.” She gave her what should have been a reassuring smile, but the darkness in her eyes was off-putting. Margery fluffed her robes as the lift started to bounce around. Even though she didn’t move an inch without holding onto a rope, she used the movement of the lift to lean in closer.

 

“I met the most interesting individual yesterday, and honestly I was inspired.”

 

“That impressive?” Delilah leaned in to comment; the older witch’s eyes looked quite soulless now that she was closer.

 

“Oh yes, enough that I’d like to introduce you to that person as well. If we’re still on for lunch tomorrow, would you mind if I arranged a meeting?” She placed her hand on Delilah’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. Delilah looked to the glimmering silver pin, eyes calculating.

 

“So soon? They must be very impressive indeed. I’d love to.” She gave her a mischievous smile.

 

When the chime sounded for Level 2, Delilah waved to Margaret before stepping out. A chorus of laughter and good mornings met her as she walked past several open offices. It took nearly 15 minutes before the hallway ended at the Wizengamot Administrative Office.

 

“Good morning, Deli! Early today too, you’ve been quite punctual these last few weeks.”

“Morning to you too, Elisa. I’ve just been inspired. You know? Hopefully it sticks.”

Elisa nodded as she sipped her tea, turning back around to shuffle the documents on her desk, pointedly ignoring the long line of witches and wizards in front of her desk waiting to be helped.

“Excuse me, Miss-”

“I’ll be with you shortly.”

 

Delilah made her way deeper into the department; this wing reminded her of a tree, a long, spindly trunk that branched off into equally slender limbs. Thousands of branches, each holding centuries of carefully curated documents, her heels clacking against the tile as she passed door after door. At the end of the hall was a large, imposing entry. Its title gleaming under the ministry lights—Internal Archives. There was a small smirk on her face as she opened the door and stepped inside.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

“Heading out so soon?” Elisa smirked as she filed her nails as she continued to ignore the wizard standing in front of her desk. The line was just as long as it had been in the morning, yet the faces did seem like they had changed. Delilah nearly laughed at the slow bloom of red taking over his face as he failed to hide his growing displeasure.

“I’ve got a hot date tomorrow and figured I needed to get some nice robes.” The wizard rubbed his face, groaning in dismay as he watched Elisa turn completely around.

“Realllly?” Elisa grinned, her hands pausing from their filling as she leaned forward in her seat.

“Yes, Margret, you remember her from Magical Cooperation? She’s putting something together for me. It’s been a while, and I haven’t been able to find… The right type of wizard, you know?” She raised her eyebrow, giving Elisa a knowing look as she adjusted her bag.

 

“Oh, yes, well, I’ll be. I didn’t think the old hag had it in her, but lucky you.” Elisa wiggled her eyebrows before she looked around, thoroughly ignoring the wizard still waiting at her desk, now with his fingers wrapped tightly around the forms he had brought.

“I won’t even mention you left early today, only if you promise to tell me how it goes.”

“Excuse M-” Elisa shushed the man, clearly waiting on a verbal response from her.

 

Delilah winked before responding.

 

“Of course, I’ll make sure you hear all about it.”

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

Hermione walked confidently into the abandoned shack as the Polyjuice Potion wore off, the wards shimmering as they allowed her through. She grimaced at the limp body sprawled on the ground; she thought she had remembered to at least cover her before she left, but it was a moot point now. She flicked a lazy warming charm over to the body, sighing in relief as she pulled off the uncomfortable heels. Walking forward, she moved around the crumpled form to set the heels on the small table she had conjured earlier before digging into her bag and changing. Grunting in pleasure as she untied her hair from its tight bun. She had always imagined herself in a ministry position, but after having to actually ‘work’ for a week, she found it absolutely mind-numbing. Seeing Sirius in between days was the only thing that had made it bearable.

 

“Nox, dear.”

The elf popped next to her.

“Can you redress Ms. Taylor while I get dressed?”

“Of course, Master.”

 

“Tsk, what did we talk about?” she grunted as she pulled a shirt over her head. Nox just grinned before snapping his fingers, redressing Delilah Taylor instantly.

“Master asked me to call Master, Hermione instead. But Nox, thinks he likes the title Master much more.”

 

“Ugh, okay, we’ll keep working on that.” She shimmied into her jeans and put on her trainers before walking over to Delilah. Bending down, she pulled her ebony wand from her back pocket. It really was a dreadful little thing, reminding her a lot of Bellatrix’s wand, but it responded so beautifully when she used it for things like this.

 

“Obliviate.”

 

She felt a bit numb now; she had been erasing this worker’s mind for nearly two weeks as she collected the documents that she needed. Normally she would have just forged internal correspondence and picked up the papers at another location, but they had been cracking down on the magical messages recently. There were warnings about multiple uses of obliviate on a single target, but she doubted it would matter eventually. Closing her eyes, she placed her wand to her forehead and pulled a silver strand from her mind, hovering it over Delilah’s head before allowing it to sink in.

 

“Haec vivere”

 

Slowly she manipulated her memories, tweaking the interactions, the conversations, and the work she had performed as she strung together each day. Finally, she used legilimens. Still a bit clumsy with this skill, she slowed as she meticulously reviewed them back until she got to a series of memories in particular.

 

Delilah Taylor was supplying information on possible Death Eaters to an unknown ICW investigator because she couldn’t bear the thought of a filthy half-blood masquerading as a Dark Lord. Even worse, he was trying to have purebloods bow to his will, something that was so unconscionable it forced her to act. Hundreds of possible names and connections had already been provided.

 

Or so Riddle would see during their little meeting tomorrow—that snake pin had been branded into her memory. Umbridge had often worn it during her time at Hogwarts; there was a piece of her that was glad Riddle hadn’t changed in some ways.

 

She sneered as she stood up, cold eyes roving over the unconscious witch. She had chosen this one in particular, this one seemingly meaningless witch in the Wizengamot Administrative Office, because this was the witch who supplied the Dark Lord with the names and addresses used in Umbridge’s Muggle-born Registration Act. Willingly sold-out hundreds and thousands of innocent people, and so she would be given up to the Dark Lord. A piece of fleshy fodder to stoke the growing paranoia he would feel. She had a bit of hesitation in the beginning; truly no one could be entirely evil, yet after combing through years of memories, this witch had gone out of her way to do everything she could in order to crush Muggles, Muggleborns, and Half-bloods under her heel. It was what her late “papa” would have wanted, or so she had tried to justify it with.

 

“Cuir às do na linger sin uile,” she uttered as she waved her wand, erasing all the magical traces from the shack, the wards snapping and collapsing as they dissipated.

 

“Nox, can you please check it for me?” She inquired sweetly as she surveyed the room for anything else that needed to be erased.

 

“It’s clear, Master.”

 

“Alright, let’s get out of here.”

 

July 31st, 1974 Evan’s Cottage

 

Petunia kicked Lily’s shin as she heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. They were both enjoying a quiet reprieve from the lessons at the Black Manor, but their dearest little sister had wandered off in the morning again. Although it was only a few hours a day, she was curious where she had run off to. Lily made a face as she turned the page of her book, but she could tell from the way she straightened her body and from the way her eyes slowed that she was just as curious. Hermione passed by the entry, skin flushed and hair wild.

“Ah, ah, ah, come here, Mia.” Petunia sang.

Caught off guard, Hermione paused, looking back and forth between her and Lily before narrowing her eyes. She pulled her bag off and handed it to Nox; the little elf bowed before vanishing. That tickled her brain. What could her little sister possibly be up to that she needed her purse spirited away? How curious.

 

“Yes, you called?” Hermione huffed playfully as she came to sit on the couch next to her, leaning into her side as she quickly glanced at the book that was still in her hands.

 

“Of course I would when my sister shows up looking flustered. Don’t think I haven’t seen the change between you and that boy. Plus, he’s gone and sent you a bouquet this time.” Petunia pursed her lips, pointing to the large bloom of forget-me-nots and baby’s breath sitting in a priceless-looking vase.

 

She giggled at the blush that started to take over Hermione’s face, at how she failed to contain her lovely smile.

“WAIT WHAT?” Lily dropped her book, face flabbergasted as she lurched forward to take Hermione by the shoulders. Hermione tried to hide her face, but Lily wasn’t having it.

 

“Are you and Sirius actually together?” She asked as she gently shook her, face following every dip and dive Hermione tried to pull.

“We’re always together, though.” she teased.

“Oh no you don’t, you daft witch. Are you guys dating? Did you finally put him out of his misery? Is he just as pitiful as before but now you can kiss him?” Lily’s eyes were sparkling as she excitedly uttered her rapidly firing thoughts.

 

That made Hermione laugh; it was such a deep, infectious laugh that she couldn’t help but join in on it. It took a moment for them to settle as Petunia leaned in more.

 

“Yes, please, we are anxiously waiting here, so confess, Mia.” Petunia urged. She nearly melted at the soft look on Hermione’s face; there was a warmth, a radiance she had never seen her little sister express as she spoke.

 

“Yes, he’s, he’s just unlike anything I ever imagined. We’re dating, and I couldn’t be happier.”

“UGHHH, THANK GOD.” Lily grunted loudly as she released Hermione and leaned back into her chair. A soft smile on her face.

 

“Really, congratulations. That wizard follows you like you hung the moon. I’ve literally had one too many conversations about whether you could see it and when you’d finally give him the time of day. I think James is even running a multi-house bet.”

 

“Wait, what?” Hermione tensed at that, eyes narrowing.

“Anyway, what about his family?” Petunia tried to guide the conversation away from the bet.

 

“I know they’re changing—no, don’t give me that face. I read enough; there was a glaring, uh, way his family felt for a long time. Getting along with people like us is one thing. But dating?” Petunia cautioned as she spoke her concerns. She had been so excited to learn about the world her sisters had access to, yet after a few lessons and a few history books, she had realized it was riddled with barriers and prejudice. It pained her to think that her sisters would be looked down on or harmed because she and their parents didn’t have magic. And from what she had learned was that the Blacks were an old family, with equally old ideologies.

 

“Oh, I forgot about that.” Lily had paled as she ran her fingers through her locks. Hermione stayed silent for a while, eyes hazy as she looked out the parlor window. Sharpening as she studied the flowers on the table across from them.

 

“I’m not entirely sure whether I care about what his family thinks. He’s mine, and I’m his.” It was soft the way she spoke. Lily laughed and continued to pepper her with questions, but there was something there that had made Petunia tense. Made the hairs on the back of her neck stand and goosebumps break out.

 

In that softness there was an edge she had never heard before.

 

July 31st, 1974 Black Estate, mid-morning

 

Soft melodies soothed him as he read the reports from their informants, a large glass of whiskey in his hand as he swirled it. He hadn’t had a moment to get a hangover potion, so more whiskey would help alleviate the pounding headache he had. They would be able to acquire another subject to interrogate tonight; he had been pleasantly surprised at how capable Sirius was turning out to be. Orion had cautioned him, telling him to not expect too much, for the boy had always been a bit soft. “Righteous and stubborn,” he said, never having wanted to learn too much of the Dark Arts or sit through many lessons. He had bet his son that Sirius would follow through to an extent; after all, his favorite cousin for the longest time had been Bellatrix—yet they had both been wrong. It seems he had taken every lesson to heart. He simply liked needling his parents, like many young wizards do.

 

Although he wondered, if they had not become more accepting of Muggle-borns and Muggles, would they have been the ones learning just how capable he was instead of Death Eaters?

 

He chuckled a bit to himself; maybe there were perks to being Blood traitors after all. A small pop interrupted his thoughts. He tensed when he heard the noise, as he had not called for any elves. Eyes opening wider in surprise as he noticed the Evans girl’s elf walking up to his desk.

 

“I have a message from Master.”

“How interesting, give it here.”

 

The elf moved gracefully as he came around the desk to present the envelope to Arcturus. As he reached to take it, the elf suddenly growled, tightening his hold as he lowered the letter. He pulled his hand back quickly, rage starting to build.

 

How dare a mere elf..

 

“Master is entrusting this to you; Master’s trust is not to be taken lightly. Do you understand, wizard?”

 

His mouth dropped open as the little elf threatened him; it seemed his life was being filled with unimaginable things lately.

 

“And did your master tell you to say that?”

“Master would never; Master would be much less nice than Nox. Nox just wants to warn the old wizard, should he break Master’s trust, it won’t only be Master he has to deal with.” Black eyes narrowed as the elf grinned viciously, hand once again extending the letter.

 

“I shall remember that.”

 

Arcturus confidently took the letter, his mind only hesitating slightly as his fingers closed around it. He didn’t fancy aggravating a temperamental elf. His father would have beheaded the feistier ones, but not before suffering quite thoroughly trying to catch it. His eyes focused on the elegant script as the elf vanished. He leaned back, flipping the letter back and forth as he pulled his wand to check it for magic. After a moment when he was sure there wasn’t anything untoward, he opened it up. Picking up his glass of whiskey, he took a sip before reading and then promptly choked as burning Ogden’s finest went down the wrong pipe. His headache was back in full force.

 

Dear Arcturus Black,

 

I have been keeping track of your movements in the Wizengamot, and I fear you’ve run into a bit of a wall, so as allies, this just won’t do. I will carve an opening for you; all I ask is that you pass this little piece of legislation as a thanks. Furthermore, I will be delighted to see the Black family’s reputation in action.

 

-Aletheia

 

 

He was definitely dying, deep heavy coughs as his eyes watered, hand shaking as they held onto the letter, the other frantically patting his chest as he sucked in deep breaths of air. It took him a moment to collect himself, his mind racing as this revelation thoroughly changed his understanding and added another element of danger he had not prepared for. His heart was racing as he realized they owed a bit of a debt to the little witch, for she had been the one to expose Riddle’s treachery. Merlin, he hoped Sirius knew what he was dealing with.

 

He noticed a piece of rolled-up parchment tied with a yellow bow. It wasn’t there before. He set down the letter, wand lifting again to check for hexes or curses before unraveling the parchment, his eyes widening as he read the stunning piece of legislation. Goodness, Brightest Witch of Her Age wasn’t an exaggeration. He picked up his glass of whiskey, taking a breath before he lifted it to drink.

 

 

“HEY GRAMPS, I NEED INTO VAULT 615!.” Sirius bellowed as he excitedly barged into the room. Arcturus promptly choked again.

 

“Whoa, whoa, old man, it’s not that shocking.”

 

He covered his face as he fought the burn.

 

These two will be the death of me.

 

July 31st, 1974 Undisclosed Location, Night

 

Four men stood silently on the ridge of the hill, each in black robes and black masks with glowing gold eyes; the light of the moon shone down on their ominous forms. Violent magic swirled in the air as they waited for the prey to awaken.

 

Augustus Rookwood groaned as he spat out the blood from his mouth, his ribs aching, his limbs shaking from the pain coursing through his body. His mind was muddled, throbbing as he tried to pull himself together. He rolled over and pushed himself off the ground. Gagging as another wave of blood filled his mouth. He staggered to his feet, his body turning to the forms on the hill. For a moment he felt a bit of relief; his fellow Death Eaters were here; they would be able to call his lord. Before he moved to them, his hazy mind caught the glint of gold caught the canine features of the masks. Something wasn’t right.

 

“What are you all? Copycats? The Dark Lord will kill you for this!” He screamed at them, his rage burning as he tried to move his wand hand. Crying out when he realized it was broken, he looked back to the figures on the hill. Still unmoving, still silent as they watched.

 

“Tell me, tell me what you want!”

 

The man in the front slowly moved forward as the three behind him stayed still. There was a sharp pain in his mind as a deep voice whispered.

 

“Run”

 

Fear crept up his spine, his anger slowly dissipating into genuine terror as the figure transformed into a massive, snarling Grim.

 

He ran.

 

August 2nd, 1974 Potter Manor

 

He couldn’t take his eyes off her; he felt almost angry that she had gone and gotten so much prettier in the short amount of time that he had not seen her. Relaxing under their tree, she was glowing as she read the grimoire he had brought her from the library located at one of their Russian properties. His lovely witch had been interested in more advanced magical warding, and after he interrogated—no, gently questioned—all 165 property elves, one of them had recommended the book she was cradling as if it was Merlin’s private journal. He made a mental note to reward Dasha. He tried to refocus on the maneuvers James was going over, but he really couldn’t help himself today.

 

“Don’t mind that troll brain; he’s just mooning over the fact they’re dating now.” Lily teased as she repositioned her broom, gently knocking into James’s side.

The way James’s face fell, complete and utter betrayal painted every inch of his windswept form.

“DIVORCE! I said it once, but now I actually mean it! What the fuck, Sirius? I’m your best mate, and you didn’t even tell me first???”

“Ouch, best mate? I guess I’m the redheaded stepchild then.” Remus grumbled through his smile; it was one of those rare times they had gotten him up onto a broom to play a game.

“HEY! What’s wrong with red hair?”

“NOTHING! It’s actually quite fetching-” James quickly blurted out as he raised his finger and shook it at Sirius. Lily’s eyes widened as Remus’s and Severus’s eyebrows came together, their quick minds picking apart the slip. Sirius remained thoroughly distracted.

 

“But you, how could you??”

 

“You’re just mad I won the bet.” Severus chuckled as he crossed his arms. Broom swaying a bit in the wind as he looked at the dazed look on Sirius’s face.

Remus groaned, James sputtered, and Lily let out a brilliant laugh.

“Congratulations, by the way.” Severus stated, as his black eyes fell on Hermione’s form, there was a softening there. Something Sirius’s senses picked up. He narrowed his eyes, his hackles bristling; it was something Severus caught quickly. Rolling his eyes, he averted his gaze while trying to hold back a smile.

“Yes, congratulations, mate. Hopefully now you can settle down a bit.”Remus teased.

“Hmm, settle down. You know what? That’s an excellent idea.” He murmured as he dipped his broom, ignoring the booing from the group, and made his way down to Hermione.

 

“Ugh, we’ve lost him completely.” James laughed.

“I think he’s been lost for a lot longer than today.” Lily quipped.

Severus and Remus just shook their heads as they watched him toss aside his broom and snuggle into her lap like a touch-starved dog.

 

 

INFORMATION WANTED

Formal statement from the Aurors Investigation Division

August 5th, 1974

 

The Aurors are asking the public for help after a young witch named Delilah Taylor has been found deceased in a park outside Hogsmeade. Taylor, 26, worked as an archive attendant in the Ministry Administration Office. She was last seen July 31st walking to a cafe in Diagon Alley. If you have any information, please send your owls to our lead investigator, Carson Rowle.

 

August 6th, 1974 Evans Cottage

 

Louis grumbled to himself as he waited for Sirius to enter into his office; the boy was twitchy and nervous today, something that was slightly more amusing than the dazed lover boy or overly charming schemer personas. He closed the door and moved to lean on his desk, arms crossed and his face as stoic as he could possibly be as he held back the incessant desire to laugh at the sweat that had started to collect on the poor boy’s brow.

 

Biting down on his tongue, he simply waited, the awkward silence making the time feel much longer than it was.

 

“I, uh… well, shit—fuck, I mean, I apologize for cursing, but I’m a bit nervous about this.” Sirius rambled as he started to pace. Louis’s eyes followed his form, still silent. He ran his shaky hands through his hair, once and then twice, before turning and closing the space between them.

 

“Mr. Evans, I’m sure you can already tell that I like—no, I love—your daughter very much, and for some reason, only Merlin knows, she likes me too. While we might be a couple, in the wizarding world, casual relationships are frowned on. And by casual, I mean relationships that don’t express that marriage or serious consideration is being given.” He stepped back to pace a bit more. Louis internally groaned; he had not known that Hermione had decided to date him. He was pained simply because he would have to tell his lovely wife that she was right, once again.

 

“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about that, and I know Hermione wouldn’t either, but I can’t stand the thought of people looking down on her for it, so I came today to ask your permission.” He suddenly stopped, silver eyes sincere as he looked Louis in the eye, his form straightening, the jitters fading as he spoke.

 

“I, Sirius Black III, formally request to court your daughter Hermione Evans.”

 

Louis softened; of all the boys his daughter could have picked, this one, despite his family, seemed to truly care. He still decided to let him sweat for a few seconds more before adopting a very solemn face. Sirius paled a bit. He walked over and stretched out his hand. Sirius took it, grasping it firmly, Louis answered him.

 

“I, Louis Evans, accept your request to court my daughter.“ He tightened his grip, pulling him close.

“However, you must ask my daughter, and you must accept her answer. Regardless of my permission, her denial or acceptance is the answer.” He was nearly blinded by the dazzling smile Sirius gave him. Grunting as he was pulled forward by a startlingly strong grip and pulled into an equally bruising hug.

 

“Well, it’s now or never.” Sirius murmured before quickly heading out of his study; curious Louis followed along swiftly.

 

 

 

Hermione hummed as she read; the particular chapter on magical core-related warding was getting good. Her concentration was broken by a rush of warmth; her magic was purring as it felt Sirius’s magic reach out. She couldn’t help the smile painting her face as she slowly marked her page. Feeling him before she even looked up.

 

“Hello, Siri.”

 

“Hello, Princess.”

 

She scooted over on the couch, patting the spot next to her, her eyebrows raising to her hairline when he ignored her and went to kneel on the ground before her feet, hands coming to rest on the pieces of couch on each side of her legs. Her heart started racing, eyes widening at the impossibly soft look on his face. There was a tickling warmth rising from her gut.

 

“Hey, Princess, you know I like you a lot, right?”

 

She nodded, for her words failed her, her heart beating painfully now as she gripped the side of her book tightly; she could feel heat slowly traveling throughout her body.

 

“Well, I wondered if you could possibly make me one of the happiest wizards—” he lifted one hand, slowly pulling her right hand from her book. He pulled her hand to his lips, placing a light kiss on her knuckles.

 

“by courting me.”

 

She melted at the soft, crooked smile that painted his face.

 

“We’re already dating, silly.”

 

He turned the hand he was holding over, using his thumb to rub her palm open—he placed a long, slender box into the hand he cradled.

 

She stared at him confused; she set her book down in her lap, the other hand going to open the box. She inhaled deeply as she gazed down at the loveliest necklace she had ever seen. Her eyes tearing up as she looked at it, her mind racing. He couldn’t have known; there was no possible way.

 

She grasped it with shaky hands, pulling it from the box. It was a thin golden necklace; however, instead of a simple chain, it was designed with delicate vines of ivy, the leaves coming off the ivy held a collection of diamonds, and as it narrowed in the front, it connected to hold another teardrop diamond. Her mind was racing as she admired it.

 

“What does this mean, Sirius?” She knew, of course she did, but she would rather not get her hopes up.

 

“I meant it when I told you I was yours, in whatever role you desired, Princess. This, this just tells others exactly how serious my words are. This ensures there is no confusion, no second-guessing. Please, Hermione, will you court me?”

 

She knew it; she fucking knew it. She was fucked because she couldn’t help the sob that escaped her lips, nor the breathless “Yes” that followed, nor how she launched herself into his arms. He wanted her, really, really wanted her.

 

For the first time in her life, she felt completely separated from Hermione Granger. Because of this, this was the first time anyone had ever truly chosen her.

 

She fought through the sniffles as she asked him to place it on her neck. She fought through the numerous obvious throat clearings of her father as she kissed him repeatedly.

 

Her heart squeezed so tightly, finally she accepted that little voice that whispered that she loved him.

 

 

August 8th, 1974 Black Estate

 

Arcturus laughed as he slammed down the prophet on the table, startling Melania enough that she eyed him suspiciously. He was filled with adrenaline, his magic vibrating under his skin as he rejoiced. The little witch had just won him the majority in the Wizengamot for the next 6 months and possibly for the future.

 

MENACING WEREWOLVES—WOLF?

BRITAIN’S WIZENGAMOT CORRUPTION

AUGUST 8TH, 1974

Article by: Herald Sinclair

Daily Prophet Lead Investigator

Verified by Gringotts and Internal Ministry Head Norton Wilkerson

Head of the Magical Law Department Corbin Lourve

 

 

Gather around, gather around. The goddess of ruined breakfasts and troubling news has blessed us once again, this time only disturbing a half plate of eggs and overturning a barely drinkable tea.Once again, unmarked by traceable means, except for the wealth of highly documented and extremely incriminating evidence. My ruined morning meal must have been a blessing in disguise, for the news is very, very troubling, my friends.

 

It appears that the menacing terror that has reigned over Britain for the last two years is simply propaganda. With the shocking increase in werewolf attacks, we have also seen an increase in speculation and talk from the more traditional voting block that something must be done to curb the threat of werewolves. That even with Wolfsbane, there has been no change, more mauled children and witches than ever before. Yet, those attacks are not due to several dangerous individuals, but one.

 

Fenrir Greyback

 

That’s right, in the past two years, the over 65 cases involving a werewolf have been committed by one singular wolf. I have attached the cross-referenced materials and the internal ministry notes. (See page 3.) Bite records, victim statements, and residual magical signatures have confirmed it. The worst, however, is that this was known by numerous members of the traditional block. (See internal memos and correspondence attached on page 6.)

 

In the most recent legislation, sinisterly named “The Protection of Wizarding Witches and Youth,” pushed heavily by known names like Malfoy, Carrow, and Lestrange, a series of restrictions and barriers are laid out for anyone afflicted by the curse. What’s worse is that within this piece of legal bigotry, there are even more restrictions on creatures, Muggle-borns, and half-bloods. I suspect trying to legally categorize them along with other known creatures is an insidious precedent.

 

One must ask, should we be checking these members forearms?

 

The minister of magic was shocked after I presented this information, and as of now they have ordered a K.O.S (Kiss on Sight or Kill on Sight) order for Fenrir Greyback. If you know of his whereabouts, I’ll be disclosing the address to send your owl. He is now the ministry’s Undesirable Number 1.

 

But one must wonder, if the members of the Wizengamot knew, and heads of departments knew, why would they allow this rabid wolf to remain uncaptured for so long?

 

Was it possibly to cover up that several ministry personnel and Wizengamot members have been donating to an undisclosed vault at Gringotts? One that has only been accessed by one Tom Riddle.

 

That’s right, we have members donating to the Dark Lord, funding his terrorist efforts, ignoring a known rabid werewolf that allied with his cause, and trying to pass discriminatory legislation. Allowing just enough pain and terror to fester before trying to appeal to the minds of their constituents and all of those in wizarding Britain that what they were doing was “good”—was for the “best.”

 

As of now, the head of the magical law enforcement has detained Cademus Carrow and Ulysses Lestrange, along with two other members in the lower voting block, Carlse Gibbon and Gram Fowler. They will be detained under house arrest while being investigated for their connections to Tom Riddle, Fenrir Greyback, Gringotts fraud, and the possible murder of Delilah Taylor.

 

“All the great things are simple, and many can be expressed in a single word: freedom, justice, honor, duty, mercy, hope.”

 

Aletheia

Notes:

Thank you for your patience; my schedule has been a bit jacked recently with birthdays and work trips. Thank you all again for all of your wonderful support and comments!

Chapter 37: Ballroom Blitz

Summary:

Sometimes other gardeners may get in the way of cultivating something truly beautiful

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; this is my first fanfic

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“Men in rage strike those that wish them best.”― William Shakespeare

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September 1st, 1974 Hogwarts

 

“Before we feast, I have a few things that need to be addressed.” Dumbledore rose from his seat, blue eyes twinkling as his grandfatherly persona was applied in full force, bewitching the impressionable youth hanging on his words. As he walked around and made his way to the podium, his cheerful demeanor fell into a grave expression. His blue robes caught the candlelight; silver swirls of glimmering stitches painted whimsical scenes across the headmaster’s body. Although beautiful and easily dismissed, Hermione’s eyes narrowed on the scenes they depicted.

 

Morgana’s fall from grace.

 

“While I believe it has been beneficial for the development and nurturing of our inter-house unity, the curse placed upon Hogwarts has been a topic of heavy debate within the Board of Governors. As such, with a heavy heart, we come to a time when it must be addressed fully.”

 

He paused as he glanced around the great hall, the shuffling of students as they comprehended his words, as he drank in the paling of the older children and the confused curiosity of the newest first years.

 

“After it was analyzed by a top curse breaker in magical law enforcement, it was concluded that it required a higher level of expertise. As such, the ministry was happy to dispatch one of the unspeakables to examine it. And after extensive investigation this summer, they were able to confirm it could be broken.”

 

Dumbledore turned, his hand coming up to point toward two wizards sitting at a table off to the side. Both unremarkable in appearance, with brown hair, brown eyes, and soft features. Average in every way, and Hermione suspected it was intentional. Someone so average the mind fought to ignore them rather than commit them to memory. Her rage was building as she started to occlude. He wouldn’t dare. One of the wizards, the taller one, stood first, coming to stand next to Dumbledore. His voice was bland—annoyingly monotone as he addressed the students.

 

“We have determined that this curse, while anchored to the school, required an annual supplement of magic by the caster in order for the configuration to retain its original intent. As such, we suspect the caster is still currently a student.”

 

Finally, the second man stood as he passed the candelabra closest to the table. Hermione noticed the faint shimmer in the air around his face. A glamour. That one must be the unspeakable. Her mind twisted as her fist clenched tightly. Her magic coiled in agitation; she could feel the moment Sirius noticed, for his magic reached to soothe her. She could feel his intense gaze on her skin, as if she was being branded. His thoughts were so loud she could practically taste them.

 

Are you okay? What’s happening?

 

“My colleague simply needs to pass by each student; should the magical sample match the one we have identified, we simply request that you follow us to the lodestone in order to remove the curse. This here—” The man pulled a rolled parchment from his robes.

 

“Is the executive directive from the Minister of Magic, the Head of the Board of Governors and Magical Law Enforcement, the individual identified will not receive any criminal or civil punishment, nor can they receive any retaliation from any Hogwarts personnel—” The man glanced briefly at Dumbledore and the rest of the staff before continuing.

 

“For the complexity of the magic and the intent of goodwill show this was not done for malicious reasons. It simply must be removed, as it was not applied with expressed approval.”

 

The second man began his descent down the stairs of the stage, starting first at the Slytherin table. He wordlessly conjured a white glowing orb, it was so similar to what Lumos looked like, yet it was not as bright. Her mind breaking down the possible spell combinations.

 

Was his choice to start with the snakes an intentional act of suspicion or favoritism?

 

She calculated the odds, for if it was the latter and not the first, this potential rogue had a higher probability of whispering in the wrong ear after everything came to light. She watched him intently, her face frozen as the numbness of her occlusion hid the seething rage she felt. Golden eyes scrutinizing every possible facial expression on the unremarkable man’s face. Her gut twisted as her magic started to sound the warning in her mind. There was a small flicker of relief on his face as he passed by the last of the Slytherin table, the orb remaining unchanged.

 

The man walked slowly, although hundreds of eyes were on him. The silence of the hall was impressive; no one dared to speak as they waited to see who it could be. He chose Ravenclaw next, something Hermione logically understood, yet that meant this possible unspeakable operated on perceived house biases. Once again, as he made his way up and down the table, the orb remained unchanged. Now there was a flash of confusion.

 

When he selected Gryffindor next, she bit down on the inside of her cheek. Dumbledore would pay for this if her suspicions became reality. Once again he made his way down the lengths of the tables; her eyes widened in surprise when the unspeakable paused on Sirius. There was just a brief flicker, a speck of green in the orb. The man stopped, walking back and scanning Sirius once again. The same thing occurred, his face falling into a full frown as the orb didn’t continue to change. Brown eyes glanced at his colleague, silently communicating before continuing his walk.

 

Her eyes connected with Sirius. She knew the exact moment his brilliant mind figured it out—how his eyebrows slightly raised as his face morphed. The expression of shocked delight filled him. She flushed. Yet, it was short-lived as the delight slowly fled as the man started on the Hufflepuff table, his grey eyes narrowing as he studied her expression, studied how she tensed. His head tilted slightly as he quickly worked through the puzzle.

 

She recognized his anger when he turned his head to stare at Dumbledore, when his spine started to straighten, and when his finger began to tap on the table. A tick he had picked up from his grandfather. A small part of her felt relief; she wouldn’t have to explain herself—he knew. Another part suggested she pull him into the nearest broom closet for a quick snog, because he KNEW. Her mind deliberated how feasible the second option would be considering she was about to be outed and forced out of the great hall for an unknown amount of time.

 

She was deep into her calculations when she heard the gasps, when her ears burned as her mind tried to snuff out the desperate need to snap. She turned in her seat; the man stood behind her, the orb shining brightly—green, green, green. So bright it cast its eerie glow on his face as he looked down. Brown eyes blank, but she could feel his magic, taste his disgust and disbelief. She could see the narrowing of his eyes as he stared intently at her open robes, Sirius’s necklace sparkling in the light.

 

The other man, the curse breaker, stepped from the podium, Dumbledore close behind. He made his way to her table and offered a hand as the unspeakable stepped back.

“Well, I’ll be, this is something I never expected, but that says more about me, doesn’t it, Miss—?”

She plastered a false smile on her face, refusing to look at Dumbledore.

 

“Evans, Hermione Evans.” She replied as she took his hand and rose from her seat.

 

“Evans? I haven’t heard of that name before.” The wizard smiled, but his eyes were cold. She cursed internally; it looked like both would be an issue. There was no way this wasn’t going to make it back to the wrong person.

 

“Ah yes, possibly because I’m Muggle-born.”

She felt his hold on her hand loosen, the micro shift in his posture as he leaned away. Her magic was hissing in her ear. Danger.

 

“Well, let’s get this removed, eh.” He suddenly gripped her hand tighter than before, harshly tugging her forward. Dumbledore was smiling.

 

She ignored the punishing grip on her hand as the wizards led her to the lodestone. Ignored the harsh influx of shocked voices as the great hall broke out into conversation. The dark little piece of her, the vindictive, spiteful fox that clawed to be free, started to calculate the ways she’d be able to find out their identities. Maybe another trip to the ministry would be necessary. She had learned her lesson well with Rita; sometimes lips needed extra incentive to remain closed.

 

When they reached the lodestone she had attached the curse to, she wasted no time. Pulling from the wizard’s grasp, she glared at the insipid little smile on his face before flexing her hand. It felt like he bruised it. The unspeakable remained silent, remained distant as he watched. She simply walked over to the lodestone and placed her hand upon it. Magic building as she willed her desires into existence, willed her tempered rage into action.

 

Dumbledore shifted, his face blank as he refused to show any indication that he felt her magic filling the room. The two wizards flinched. Her mind supplied her with their nervousness and disbelief, her magic reading them thoroughly, pressing upon them in warning.

 

It took a second, just a moment before she removed her hand and turned around to the wizards. A dazzling smile on her face as she addressed them.

 

“Well, gentlemen, my role here is done.” She fluffed up her robes and began to walk around them to leave. She clenched her fist as she felt a hand tighten around her arm, forcibly stopping her.

 

“What do you mean? You haven’t done anything yet! You haven’t even pulled your wand.” the unspeakables brown eyes now filled with irritation. However, her eyes looked at the stubby fingers digging into her arm. Disgust filled her as she noticed the dirt underneath his nails.

 

“Not everyone needs an entire summer or help to get rid of a child’s curse. Remove your hand from my arm and check it yourself.” Eyes fierce as she looked into his.

 

“I’m surprised an Unspeakable such as yourself wouldn’t have been able to feel it.” Her voice was sugary sweet as she snapped back. She was thrilled in the way all three wizards paled. He quickly pulled his hand back as if she had burned him. Excellent. If she was going to be outed, then she might as well make them cautious of putting their hands on her in the future.

 

Turning swiftly, he pulled his wand and ran a diagnostic. Green, Green, Green. It was clear only the common Hogwarts wards and protections remained.

 

“Am I free to go now that you’ve verified it?” She huffed as she looked at her nails.

“Uh…yes, you’re free to go, Miss Evans.” The curse breaker stuttered out, his earlier bravado extinguished as he continued to look at the floating diagnostic. Before she moved to leave, her face lit up—turning to the uncomfortably silent wizards, her lips pulled into a sugary sweet smile. The harsh snap of her fingers made both wizards flinch as Dumbledore continued to watch the exchange with cold blue eyes.

 

“I almost forgot, silly me. I’ll be needing the directive. You know, for my records.” She moved with a predatory grace over to the curse breaker. His movements were tight and stiff as the growing frown on his face took over. Reluctantly, he pulled the parchment from his robes, pausing before handing it to her. He nearly scoffed when she opened it, running a diagnostic of her own to ensure it wasn’t another parchment he had handed to her. She turned to look at him, her golden eyes searching his face for glamours. There were none; he was still just as unremarkable naturally as the other was magically. She nearly purred when she caught it, nearly laughed at the way he flinched as she lifted her hand and brought it near his neck. Confusion flooded his face as he tightly clenched his jaw. Pale, slender fingers lightly adjusted the glimmering silver snake pin on his collar as she complimented him.

 

“What cute matching pins you both have.” She murmured while patting it, eyes cutting to Dumbledore’s face. Still cold, still calculating as he picked up on the now visible pins she had wandlessly unglamoured.

 

Look, see the extent of what you have done, you fool.

 

Panic, sheer panic, was on both wizards’s faces as she turned and left. Her blood was boiling as she made her way to her common room. This was the wizard who had left a baby on a doorstep and then raised it for slaughter. It seemed he no longer felt that she was a useful piece. Her mind replaying his message over the summer, his one-sentence warning when she had denied him the location of the resurrection stone once again.

 

So you intend to deny me. Noted.

 

As she rounded the corner near the entrance to her common room, her eyes landed on Sirius, drinking in his handsome features, his towering frame. Melting underneath the cooling sensation of his magic as it connected. He smiled at her the moment he felt her. Her heart squeezed. She wondered if this many forceful changes in her heartbeat were healthy, yet she couldn’t deny how much she enjoyed the pain. It made her even more mad. He was too fucking handsome, too fucking smart for his own good; it was dreadfully unfair. It had also made her realize there was in fact a broom closet just a few steps away from where he was standing.

 

She narrowed her eyes, hair crackling with her irritation as she stomped over to him quickly, his face lighting up in panicked concern as she closed in on him with alarming speed. That poor handsome wizard. Not a word was spoken as she harshly snatched his tie, and not a word was spoken as she dragged him into the nearest broom closet, harshly pushing against his chest. He towered over her, yet he yielded to her instantly. Not a word as she backed him into the wall and properly snogged him.

 

It took just a few seconds before his mind registered what was happening, but once he did, he growled, his arms coming to wrap around her as he took control and forced her back against the opposite wall. Caging her in as he devoured her. This, this is what she wanted. But she wanted more, wanted to get this burning frustration out. She nipped his lips harshly as she slid her hands up his chest and into his thick hair; she tugged—hard. Her entire body seared with warmth at the sound he made, her pupils blowing up as she studied his painfully exquisite expression. He snapped, closing what little distance there was between them, crushing her as he kissed her harshly. His hand came up to clench her jaw, angling her face just right. Finally her mind was blissfully blank.

 

This, this is what she had craved all day.

 

 

October 1st, 1974 Hogwarts

 

Darkness descended like an inevitable plague, covering the magical castle in a shroud of malcontent. Tensions between the students grew day by day; heated words pushed boundaries as the omniscient higher power that tightly held their restraints had been revealed as a mere mortal. The tenuous hold of bonds and alliances forged in times of peace degraded as the collective mass of growing prepubescents rediscovered the conscious recognition of free will. Of plausible deniability.

 

The harsh, chilly winds and beginnings of winter added to the deep, simmering grudges and barely concealed hatred that germinated for years before it sprouted violently into the “Hex heard around the world.”

 

“Hey, Bloodtraitor! Get back here!”

 

Avery hissed out as he roughly grabbed Sirius’s shoulder; he pulled with all his strength, but Sirius’s sturdy form wouldn’t budge. Avery started to pale when he realized he wasn’t strong enough to force him to turn around; he swallowed before slowly removing his hand and allowing it to fall to his side. He stepped back after realizing the difference in height.

 

Sirius breathed deeply as he held himself back. He had been so good—very good, really putting effort into trying not to snap and break the fucker’s neck when he constantly spewed the dogma that targeted his witch. Relearning restraint after the wonderful summer was an exercise of momentous proportions. Reminding himself of the audience around them and the fact that Hermione was waiting on the other side of the courtyard just within his sight. Just a few more feet and he would be at her side. Her pretty lips were turning into a frown as she rolled the fabric of her robe sleeves in her fingers. His heart warmed; she always worried for him. It was so cute.

 

“Just ignore him, mate. He’s not worth it.”

 

“Don’t, Sirius; he’s picking a fight for a reason.” James and Remus whispered in his ear to the left of him. Their reasoning sound—proper even. He wondered why it left a vile bitterness in his mouth. Severus to his right smirked, his black eyes challenging him to rise to the bait. He knew; he understood.

 

“Avery, ignorance can be deadly.” Severus drawled as he set his scrutinizing gaze on his nervous housemate. Now, he liked the sound of that much more.

 

“Shut up, you filthy fucking Half-blood. This is between proper wizards.”

 

The laugh that leaked out of Sirius’s lips caused many to shrink back, bodies tense and eyes wide as they reacted instinctively to the threat buried in his tone. Slowly running his hand through his hair, he looked at the soft layer of snow building beneath his feet. He should show him what a proper wizard looked like; he should introduce him to what happened to the other proper wizards that made themselves a nuisance. He was itching for a smoke. This time it was James and Remus who clamped down on his shoulders, much firmer than the worthless git behind him.

 

He looked to Hermione once more; she was agitated, auburn curls seeming to expand as he felt her magic growing. Her arms were crossed now; in her hand was her ivory wand. Her lovely eyes filled with coldness as they narrowed on the wizard behind him. The small flurries of snow landed upon her, sparkling as she shifted in the light. Merlin, she was fucking beautiful. What was he doing wasting his time here with this prick instead of being with her?

 

The fight drained out of him; his witch was waiting for him, and maybe if he was lucky, he’d be able to pull her from the growing group of wizards and witches that had begun to gravitate to her side.

 

“I’ve got my witch waiting on me, Avery; as invigorating as it is to hear you screeching, we’ll have to have a bit of a rain check here.”

 

He didn’t need to look at their faces to feel the absolute relief flowing through James and Remus. Severus, that prat, he just knew he’d be listening to him snark about being whipped for at least a day. But the thought of being able to hex him now brightened his mood.

 

He turned to smirk at Avery, loving the purplish color taking over his face. He chuckled as he turned his back and started moving. James and Remus were smiling as they walked ahead. Severus was the only one still keeping an eye on Avery, the only one holding onto his wand still.

 

“You fucking coward!”

 

Sirius laughed as he simply raised his hand and flicked off Avery. Eyes focused on the feisty little witch in front of him, his steps faltering as he noticed her tense, watching the people beside her pale in shock, hands coming up to cover their mouths. He stopped moving to turn around as he saw Severus’s wand hand raise in his periphery. His hand snapped down to pull his wand from his robe, his body twisting as the violent red curse aimed for him.

 

Everything slowed as he moved his wand hand up, lips mouthing the words of his defensive spell. Severus was nearly done, but it wasn’t fast enough; neither of them were as the curse slammed into his chest.

 

There was a thunderous crack that split the air as the students around them began to scream. Sirius felt a harsh pressure on his chest for just a moment before it left. Eyes confused as he watched Avery cry out, body tumbling in the snow several feet from where he had been standing.

“Fuck, what was that?” James yelled as he checked Sirius over. Remus, with his wand still raised, took a deep breath, eyes widening before he started running to Avery.

“Blood, lots of blood,” he cried.

 

Severus stayed at his side, eyes looking to him, asking silently if it was him. He shook his head, confused.

 

“Fuck! Fuck! He won’t stop bleeding!” Remus screamed as he furiously worked through every healing spell he knew, some students around them scattering, others crying out.

 

“Black killed him!”

 

I didn’t, but I wouldn’t be upset if he were dead.

 

“Black killed Avery!”

 

“Someone get a professor!”

 

 

Through the panicked conversations, through the cries and curses, his ears twitched, picking up the sound of snow crunching under a heeled foot. His heart rate increased as he watched the blood seeping from Avery’s chest, as he felt the warmth of his witch’s magic. He didn’t want her to see this, didn’t want to fill her beautiful gaze with such an ugly view.

 

But there she was, his goddess, a hint of concern on her face as she looked him over.

 

“Are you okay, Sirius?”

“Yes, princess, it, it didn’t even hurt—really.”

 

She devastated him with a smile that made a shiver run down his back.

 

“Of course it wouldn’t. A weak little curse like that wouldn’t even make a dent.”

 

Her answer shocked them all; James sputtered as Severus looked at her confused. She reached forward and took his right hand, trailing her fingers up to his wrist where the corded rope she had given him sat. Lightly running her fingers over it before turning and walking to Avery. His blood was burning from just her touch.

 

Hermione walked over to the writhing form of Avery, eyes savoring the slowly growing red pool around his body, a harsh contrast to the white snow upon the ground. Of course a junior Death Eater like him would curse someone behind their back. Gently pushing on Remus’s shoulders. The frazzled wizard narrowed his eyes but moved anyway.

 

“It just won’t stop.”

 

“I know, Remus.” She looked at him properly. She wanted to smile as she watched him figure it out. Truly the 70s held a much brighter era of wizards; it was such a pity Riddle had killed so many before. Moving her wand, lips uttering the counter to the sectumsempra, she couldn’t help but notice the silence as the blood receded, pulling back into his body as the thousands of lacerations closed.

 

“What happened here? Merlin!” Professor McGonagall chided as she rushed to Avery, Madam Pomfrey close behind her, horrified as she watched the last of the wounds close. Avery was still crying as Pomfrey checked him over, the diagnostic flashing purple as it read the dark curses residue.

 

Hermione’s voice was loud, filling the courtyard as she spoke. Hundreds of eyes were watching in horror, yet their ears were straining to hear what she had to say.

 

“Avery here decided to hex Sirius in the back after he had been generous by not rising to his harassment, and he paid for it.”She made sure to look around, eyes cold as she impressed upon the masses what was waiting for them if they decided to act foolishly.

 

“Are you saying Sirius did this to him?” McGonagall probed, harsh eyes landing on Sirius’s form behind them. Hermione ignored her question to focus on Pomfrey.

 

“Madam Pomfrey, he’ll be alright; he just needs a blood-replenishing potion and some rest.” She sweetly reassured the matron as she patted her hunched shoulder.

 

“Oh no, this one’s all on me.” She offered her hand to Remus; he hesitated for a moment before allowing her to help him up. She waved her hand, clearing him of the snow that had collected, removing the wetness from his robes, and the blood from his and her hands.

 

“You did this to him?” Dumbledore boomed as he made his way over, the crowd eagerly parting to allow the headmaster through, his eyes collecting all the details.

 

“Technically?” She uttered as she shrugged her shoulders.

 

“Explain.” McGonagall hissed, bristling at the careless attitude. Hermione sighed.

 

“You see, I’ve been a bit anxious, you know, with all the deaths and events happening. It’s why I made that curse for the school.” She narrowed her eyes at Dumbledore, then at the startled Gryffindor head of house. The implication heavy.

 

This one is on your hands, Dumbledore. This is what you wrought.

 

She thought loudly as she felt him try to skim her mind.

 

“And well, I’m very protective of people that I consider mine. So I made sure I could guard their backs, even if I wasn’t around. Avery here cast a pretty nasty curse, and the defensive protections I gave to Sirius responded,” she mentioned while repocketing her wand; whispers started around them.

 

“So. Yes, it was technically me.”

“What hit him? I’ve never seen anything like it.” Pomfrey fretted as she poured a blood-replenishing potion down Avery’s throat. He gagged and sputtered at the taste, but Pomfrey continued to force him to drink.

 

“A laceration curse.” She refused to comment more.

 

“Detention for 2 weeks and 20 points from Hufflepuff.” Dumbledore stated, his hands coming together as his face exuded disappointment.

 

“Hey, that’s not right!”

 

“Yeah, Avery attacked first!”

 

Dumbledore ignored the cries of the disgruntled students around them. McGonagall was tense as she took in just how many students disapproved.

 

“I’m going to have to respectfully decline, Headmaster.”

“You cannot decline the headmaster’s punishment, Miss Evans.”

 

Hermione grinned at McGonagall, throwing the normally stern witch off.

 

“Did you know Hogwarts has bylaws? I learned about it after some lovely reading one summer. Page 1065, subsection 4, clause 3. No student can be punished for harm to another student due to a protection embedded in courting gifts, as it is a couple’s right to provide magical protections to their intended, as long as such gift is registered with the Board of Governors prior to the semester starting.”

 

She twitched when she heard Sirius’s loud whistle of approval, forcing down the desire to laugh.

 

Dumbledore was known for his ability to remain calm under pressure, but she did notice the slight twitch of his brow. She moved slowly, pulling the scarf from around her neck, tugging it lightly as she fluffed her robes open, before putting it in her pocket. Ensuring her necklace was bared to every witch and wizard that could see.

 

“I’m sure you didn’t know, but Sirius officially asked to court me this summer. If you like, I can provide you with the letter of acceptance from the Board of Governors on his gift’s registration.” They locked gazes again; the silent war lasted only a second.

 

“No, it seems this was an accident caused by Avery’s actions.”

There was a bit of clapping from the crowd as the conversations around them picked up in full force.

 

“Yes, it seems so.” She nodded as she turned, eyes cold as she looked into Avery’s pale face, before moving to guide Remus back to the group of boys waiting on them. Sirius’s smile was dazzling as he welcomed her with open arms. She squeezed him tightly before leading him by the sleeve out of the courtyard.

 

His blood was still burning as he shuddered in delight watching his witch control the situation, her little sneer she tried hiding, and the way she spoke to Dumbledore. His heart was pounding as he realized just how much he loved watching her look down on Avery in disdain. Loved just how brilliantly vicious she could be. She was fucking perfect.

 

“Blimey, Mia, you don’t mess around, do you?” James mumbled, trying to bring levity to the situation. Still a bit peaky from the whiplash of the last few minutes.

 

Hermione smiled as she bumped into him as they walked, turning just slightly to adjust the scarf she had made him on his neck.

 

“No, I really don’t. Make sure to keep this on you, hmm.” Winking as she moved over to Severus, eyeing the black gloves on his hands. They shared a look; it was enough for Severus to laugh, the low, throaty rumble causing the rest to chuckle. She smiled as she moved back to Sirius’s side, entwining their hands together as she squeezed between him and Remus.

 

“Wait, everyone?” Remus questioned, hands still a bit shaky as he moved to loosen his tie.

 

She looked to the small patches on his coat’s elbows that she had fixed; he choked a bit as he shook his head in disbelief.

 

“Of course, there’s this lovely little bylaw about protective gifts during times of strife. And since the Ministry declared a State of Emergency… and Dumbledore allowed for the protective deterrent to dissolve. Well, I’m going to be the most generous little witch this school has seen in ages.”

 

Now that got a loud barking laugh out of Sirius. He pulled her hand up to place a kiss on her knuckles.

 

“You’re bloody brilliant.”

 

 

When he finally got her separated, he made sure she knew just how much he enjoyed her little display earlier.

 

October 6th, 1974 Hogwarts

 

“Come on, mate, we have to go.”

 

Sirius paced as he looked out the window of their dorm. He was anxious; this would be the first full moon that they would spend with Remus. Hermione had casually mentioned she had already spent several moons with Remus, which irritated him more than he wanted to admit. One was because she could have gotten hurt, and the other was that he really didn’t like the thought of Remus suffering. The bloke was actually a really decent guy.

 

“Wait, wait, you mutt, I swear I’ve got something that’ll make the wait worthwhile.” James huffed as he searched his trunk, grunting in happiness when he found what he was looking for. He pulled what looked like a ratty old cloak out from the bottom of his trunk. Sirius looked at it in annoyance.

 

“Great, mate, I’m sure it’ll keep us warm, but we still need to make it down to the shack before Remus gets there. Herm—” He stuttered, his words dying as he watched James’s body less head smirk at him.

 

“What the bloody hell??” He rushed over, circling James, eyes wide as his head tilted from every angle.

 

“Pops gave it to me before we came back. Cryptic as hell too.” He laughed as he took the cloak off, his body now visible again.

 

“Have fun and don’t lose it, son.” He mimicked his dad’s voice as he pulled Sirius and made his way out of the dorm.

 

“Like, I thought it was Gramps old cloak. Bloody thing looks ancient, you know? Lo and behold, I nearly fainted when I tried it on once it got cold and my body disappeared.” He laughed as he paused before the opening of the common room. Huffing as he got close to Sirius, mumbling how unfair it was he’d gotten so tall.

 

“Lean down, you freak; we both need to fit under it.”

 

“Jamie dear, if you wanted me under the covers with you, you should ask nicer.” Sirius quipped, before yelping as James punched him. He pouted as he crouched down, coming close to James, wiggling his eyebrows as James flung the cloak over both of them. They opened the portrait, ignoring the startled exclamations of the Fat Lady.

 

“Great Heavens, who’s there??”

 

They waited until they were further down the hall before speaking again.

 

“This thing is brilliant; I think we should use it for the map. I think we’re nearly done, but with this we can stay out longer. Might finish it fast that way.”

 

“That’s an excellent idea, mate, although I think we’ll have to split off in pairs; this isn’t exactly roomy.”

 

“True, true.”

 

They both made it with seconds to spare as they ran to hide when they heard Professor Slughorn and Remus making their way down the narrow hall.

 

Remus’s nose twitched in realization as he heard the door lock behind him; there were so many more scents in the shack. He groaned in exasperation.

 

“Come out, all of you. Hermione, what have you done this time?”

 

An auburn-curled menace peeked out behind a broken armories, smiling devilishly as she jumped up and raced to him. She led him to the bed, gently forcing his weary body down to sit as she gripped his hand.

 

“Well, I didn’t exactly do it, but I did help. And no complaining; you happen to have friends that like you.” She chided as she waved a finger in his face. One by one his friends revealed themselves from behind other nooks and crannies. Sirius smiled as he came up to sit on the bed next to him, lightly brushing against his shoulder as he ruffled his hair. James was next, coming to stand in the middle of the room, arms open as if to say, “Surprise!” Severus was last, grunting in annoyance as he fought off the spiderweb that was clinging to his robes. They shared a look; Remus could easily hear his thoughts. “What did you expect? honestly?”

 

He teared up, his body too exhausted to muster the strength to fight them or his overwhelming appreciation. Warmth filled his entire body.

 

“Well, go on then. Show me.” He chuckled as he weakly gestured.

 

“Sev, you first, I think.” Hermione hummed.

 

Severus smirked before transforming; a stunning black raven stood in his place. Remus laughed as he watched him hop over before fluttering up to stand on the top of the dresser.

Cawing as if to ask, “What do you think?”

 

“Of course, very fitting.” Remus nodded in amazement, leaning against Hermione as he felt another wave of muscle spasms.

 

James was next, transforming into a brilliant red stag. He pranced over, nosing Remus’s hair and snorting on his face as Remus tried to push him away.

 

“Majestic as always, James. Although I think I might even like you better like this.” He teased. James just huffed as he stomped his hooves and lowered his antlers.

 

“Hey, hey, don’t poke me with those things. I take it back; I like you more without sharp objects attached to your head.”

 

James winked at him before heading to a larger corner of the room and settling down. Next was Sirius; he jumped up exuberantly from the bed, eyes sparkling as he transformed. Remus tensed as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand, his eyes flashing gold as he stared at the massive, black-looking wolf in front of him. No, a Grim? The beast within him rose to the surface; he was suddenly hit with a strong desire to pin him down, to force him to bare his neck.

 

“Very… impressive, Sirius.” His words were clipped as he watched the massive predator wag his tail and make a beeline to shove his face in Hermione’s hands. Her soft giggle as she scratched under his jaw and ears helped take away some of the edge he felt. She playfully pushed Sirius away before transforming herself. The little fox quickly dipped off the bed, running around the room as Sirius tried to play.

 

The sight made him laugh, although he winced when it made his ribs hurt. He was grateful, so fucking grateful to have found friends, something he never thought he would have, and certainly not ones that would master an advanced form of magic just to keep him company. This time he couldn't stop the tears that fell; thankfully, they were gracious enough to ignore his sobs.

 

He hissed as he felt the first part of the change start, his trembling eyes looking to the full moon high in the sky. All play stopped around the room as they waited. His body was burning, pain obliterating his nerves as he transformed. His throat raw from the screaming. Yet the eyes of his friends never strayed, never wavered.

 

He blinked once it was done, eyes focused on the moon as he tried to right himself, his nose working overtime as the wealth of scents invaded his nostrils. The beast within him gave him no warning as it surged in his mind, an unknown power flooding him; to his horror, the beast took over. He was screaming, trapped behind a barrier in his own mind, as his ears heard the deep growl that passed his lips. His wolfish body moving without his control as he turned and bared his fangs, eyes focusing on the large black beast next to the tiny fox.

 

“Protect, pack.”

“No, no! They’re friends; they’re all pack!” He screamed, banging against the barrier. He was spiraling as he begged and pleaded for it to understand. He couldn’t allow this to happen, his heart crumbling in his chest as he fought for control.

 

It moved; he could tell Hermione realized something was wrong when she jumped out behind Sirius and placed herself in its path. He was still screaming, still pounding against his cage, but his heart shuddered in relief when it paid her snarls and growls no mind, yet despair was quick to take its place as the beast launched itself at Sirius, fangs bared.

 

Sirius felt the moment when the air shifted, when the darkness choked the room as Remus’s changed form rose from the ground. The deep rumbling growl filled the shack, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand. His instincts warned him, his magic crackling as the werewolf advanced. His heart nearly ripped out of his chest as he watched his little foxy witch jump in front of him, a clear sign that something wasn’t going right.

 

The beast charged, knocking her slender form out of the way, her yelp ringing in his ears as the werewolf closed the distance. He saw red, his blood burning. His body tensed as a deep, vicious growl left his lips, his back legs pushing him forward as he met the beast in a violent clash. All the animals in the room cried as Sirius and the beast fought, vicious snarls, violent snaps, and gleaming fangs flashing as they collided over and over again, blood spattering on the floor and furniture as they tumbled about. Cries of the raven, anxious beats of the deer’s hooves on the ratty wooden floor as it tried to find an opening, yips and barks of the fox as it nipped and pulled at any body part she could, trying to break up the fight.

 

It happened; it was an accident, but as the beast swung a massive claw to force Sirius away, it landed on Hermione, throwing her back against the wall with a sickening thud.

 

Remus was screaming. His heart shattering.

 

That was the end.

 

Violent, oppressive magic suffocated the room instantly as a bone-chilling growl escaped Sirius. He looked more massive than before as he easily forced the beast back with a newfound strength. His head snapped swiftly as he clamped his bloodied jaws around his neck, squeezing tightly while the beast struggled and clawed. But nothing moved him, nothing broke his hold as he forced his entire weight over the beast, pinning him down against the floor.

 

Remus could feel the pain, feel the sharp canines digging into his neck as he struggled to breathe. It only took a moment before the beast stopped struggling, his body going limp as it started to whimper. The barrier shattered in his mind as he forced himself to take over.

 

He was gagging, struggling to force air into his lungs as he stilled. Sirius must have noticed the change, slowly easing up on the hold he had on his throat. There was silence. It took a few seconds before Sirius let go completely, golden eyes burning as he stared down into Remus’s. He growled one last time, snapping his jaws, lips pulled back as he bared his bloody fangs. Remus didn’t know why he did it, but he felt compelled as he turned his head to the side, body relaxing as he bared his neck and stomach.

 

Sirius licked his chops, snorting before he turned and made his way to Hermione. She was sitting up, golden eyes piercing as she watched the exchange. Sirius crouched low, body covered in cuts and blood as he crept his way over to her, sniffing and licking all over her face and fur. She licked his muzzle, gingerly getting up and limping slightly as she moved to curl into his side.

 

The oppressive magic swirled in the room, growing and growing, causing all the inhabitants to cry out. Just before it became intolerable, it snapped. Something deep and heavy connecting them together.

 

Remus was breathing harshly as he got up, moving to curl up in the corner of the room, not trusting the beast in his body from taking over again. The buzz of magic floating in the air. The cruel goddess moon shining brightly on all the inhabitants as the night grew longer. Dread filled him.

 

“What the fuck just happened?” he asked the beast.

 

Weakened and hazy in his mind, it grunted.

 

“All Pack.”

 

The next confused him to his core. The beast was rumbling as it provided him the image of Sirius’s form.

 

“Alpha.”

Notes:

<3
I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. I know, in most stores the pack dynamics are the other way around, but I've been operating on more of a canon Sirius/Remus dynamic.

If you ever wondered how I imagined Hermione and Sirius together, I've included a link to my Tumblr; it's an image from chapter 34. It is AI-generated since I couldn't find an artist who really fit, but if you check it out and know an artist with a similar style, message me! I'd greatly appreciate it.

https://www.tumblr.com/sliverlilly/797069610920853504/how-i-always-pictured-hermione-and-sirius-in?source=share

Enjoy the weekend, lovelies!

Chapter 38: Fight the Power

Summary:

Occasionally a gardener must reflect on the choices

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

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“Resistance is a powerful motivator precisely because it enables us to fulfill our longing to achieve our goals while letting us boldly recognize and name the obstacles to those achievements.”― Derrick Bell

---

October 7th, 1974 Hogwarts

 

Time was a cruel god, a cruel force when the desperate creatures subjected to its whims pleaded and begged for relief. Sirius’s body remained tense, his heart frantically beating with each second that passed, filling his body with the adrenaline that kept him primed—muscles ready to spring to action, teeth throbbing in anticipation, in the desperate desire to sink into his prey. There was no pain, no part of his body that reacted to the violence it endured. Yet his heart, his soul, anguished as he felt the trembling form of Hermione resting against his side, her magic fraught with worry and pain. His mind spiraled, replaying the image of her crumpled form, replaying the horrific sound of her body slamming against the wall. He should have ended the fight faster and should have ignored his conscience that held him back, whispering traitorous things like, Don’t hurt him, he’s your friend.

 

He had instinctively curled his entire body around her, shielding her from the battered werewolf in the corner, every pore in his body fighting not to leave her side and ensure the werewolf never rose again. His desire to comfort her, to care for her, outweighed all else, so he shielded her even from the prying eyes of the raven and the pesky prodding of a nervous stag.

 

No one would touch her; no one was allowed to get near as he waited for the moon to vanish beneath the horizon.

 

He felt it, the moment in the room when the magic condensed and shifted, the precursor to the horrific sound of snapping bones and tearing skin—as the screaming form of Remus replaced the whimpering werewolf in the corner of the shack. He felt an unknown tug as a flood of emotion, of feeling, hit him. Despair deep and rich, so violently suffocating that he nearly failed to suck in air. His simmering anger cooled instantly; the boiling emotion that had kept him focused collapsed as he realized what he felt was coming from Remus. He could feel them all, so different from what he felt with Hermione, yet he felt James’s fear and trepidation. If he tugged on the thin string that connected them, he could also feel Severus’s weary caution and concern.

 

Something had happened this night, something he would have to figure out later.

 

He was the first after Remus to transform, ignoring the pitiful sobbing and teeth-grinding mantra whispered through trembling lips of “I’m sorry.” He ignored the pinching feeling of crusted blood and searing tearing of skin as he pulled his wand and began to check over Hermione. When she transformed back, he hissed in displeasure, his hand nearly snapping his wand with the force of his newly revitalized rage. His lovely witch was tired and wincing as she shuffled to find a comfortable position on the floor, her delicate ankle swollen and red. Bruises peppered her arms as she rubbed her left side. Her golden eyes were glassy as she fought not to cry.

 

“I’m okay, I promise.” She dared to smile at him, dared to pretend in front of him.

“I told you, you don’t pretend—ever, princess.” He spoke as softly as he could manage at the moment, his hand coming up to cup her face, his thumb rubbing against her cheek. He felt the moment she crumbled, the moment she felt relief at his words.

“Help me?” She whispered, golden eyes wide and pleading, something that tore his heart apart. As if he would ever deny her.

 

He ignored the louder sobs, ignored James and Severus trying to console Remus as he worked. Healing her ankle first, he methodically checked every inch of skin his eyes drank in. From the tips of her painted toes to the top of that brilliant head of hers, he weaved his wand and forced his magic to soothe and heal her. When he eventually felt her body relax and decisively felt she was healed enough, he finally took a deep, shuddering breath. He was battling with so many desires, so many contradicting needs; it was driving him mad.

 

“Thank you, Siri, that feels so much better. Let me—” Just the thought of her staying in the run-down shack longer made him want to curse, setting his teeth on edge.

 

“No.” He looked into her shocked face, cataloging her creased brows and confusion. He brought a hand up to rub his sternum; he could feel her more closely now.

 

“What? You’re torn up, Sirius; let me heal you.” She scoffed, anger slowly replacing the confusion. She bit her cheek when he didn’t answer.

 

“Sirius Black, you listen to me—” He gave her a wobbly smile; it was cute how she used his legal name when she was about to get feisty. Her words died as her eyes widened at his expression.

 

“Love, Remus and I need to have a talk. A very serious talk. I cannot have it with you here—”

“What?” It was so soft, her voice as she looked at Remus’s balled-up form. He could taste her concern cutting through his turbulent emotions.

 

“No, this wasn’t Remus’s fault. Something must have gone wrong with the Wolfsbane! Let me—” She was truly mad now; he could feel the sharp, piercing spikes of her magic striking out. He really did love that about her, how softhearted she could be, but now was not the time.

 

“Hermione.” She paused, her body frozen at his grave tone.

 

“Love, I NEED you to go to Pomfrey. This isn’t something I will waver on. I’m so close, so close to losing control, and I need it. I need to know you’ve been looked over by someone proper.” She seemed to melt at his words, the fight leaving her, though her concern never faded, only increased as she looked to the corner where Remus was. His hand came up, gently guiding her face back to look at him.

 

“I know you’re more than capable, I know you want to help me, and I know you would like to soothe Remus; you can even hex me later, I promise. But I need this. So please, will you do this for me, Princess?” He pleaded with her, his magic reaching to hers, trying to impress upon her how serious he was, how desperately he required it for his sanity.

 

“Okay, okay—I’ll go. But you cannot hurt him; this wasn’t his fault, Sirius. That wasn’t Remus.” His heart clenched; she had bound his trembling hands, muzzled his vicious need.

 

“I know, Princess.” He gave her a tight smile; his tongue felt like lead. It was the first time he couldn’t force himself to reassure her enough; his desire to make her happy paled in comparison to his desire to keep her safe right now. He would just have to figure out how to do both.

 

“James.” He commanded, his tone deep as it cut through the shack.

 

James bristled, his eyes watery as he tried to get Remus to see, to stop trying to claw his chest and face as he rocked in the corner of the shack. There was something, something sharp in him that couldn’t ignore Sirius. He turned, eyes pleading with Severus as he slowly backed away and went to Sirius. The Slytherin was pale and unsure as he took James’s place and tried to reason with Remus, attempting to prevent him from his perpetual self-harm as James left.

 

“Y-yes?” James stuttered, his pulse was racing as he came to stand next to Sirius.

 

“Take Hermione to Madam Pomfrey.” He uttered, head slowly turning to finally acknowledge him.

 

James looked at the blackness found in Sirius’s gaze, took note of the tiny ring of grey that was struggling to remain. Flesh erupted in goosebumps as his instincts flooded him with unease. This was not a time to argue or delay; he exhaled once, hazel eyes looking at Remus once more before he plastered a shaky smile on his lips and knelt down to help Hermione up. His hands were shaking as he fretted over her slumped form.

 

“Goodness, Mia, let’s get you checked out.” She returned his tight smile with one of her own, still a bit sore as James pulled her close. Sirius could still feel her worry, her hesitation. Could feel the warmth she held for him each time her gaze passed over his body. It helped, help settle him just to keep his cool until he could feel that they were far enough away. It was as if something had broken within him.

 

He was suffocating, struggling to breathe as he was bombarded with clashing emotions: rage, hatred, despair, desperation, love, and agony. His mind was spiraling as it tortured him, over and over, feeding him thousands of possibilities as he gripped his wand tighter and tighter.

 

“FUCK!” He screamed, his guttural cry startling the remaining two inhabitants, jumping up as his now black eyes glared at the blood-spattered floors, at the wall where she had hit. Pain was flooding his body, nerves searing as his muscles twitched and spasmed, as his blood began to flow freely from the wounds he had torn open. He relished the pain; it helped focus him.

 

He couldn’t control it; he needed to get it out, needed to tear into something. His nose twitched as his pupils grew larger, nearly swallowing the whites of his eyes. That sweet, sweet scent short-circuited his brain, the delicious scent of fear. His mouth watered, his body moving almost in muscle memory as he rolled his neck and clenched his teeth. He could taste it too: blood. He ran his tongue along his lengthening teeth.

 

He turned his body as his wand hand raised, his eyes taking in the wide, fearful eyes, the trembling forms. His ears catching the pleading, the whispered cries. His magic was building, his wand sparking as he forced it down the length of his wand. Barely contained as his mind fought his desires. Hermione’s words guiding him like a scripture.

 

It wasn’t his fault, Sirius. That wasn’t Remus.

 

He took a step closer to them.

 

It wasn’t his fault, Sirius. That wasn’t Remus.

 

His lips opened, his voice slowly hissing out the start of a curse.

 

It wasn’t his fault, Sirius. That wasn’t Remus.

 

His senses devouring the way they collapsed in on themselves.

 

That wasn’t Remus.

 

It wasn’t his fault, Sirius.

 

You cannot hurt him.

 

His mind struggled as the image of the snarling werewolf layered over their trembling forms. Back and forth it flashed.

 

Until it settled on the image of their fearful gazes, until he realized his wand was raised at his friends.

 

You cannot hurt them, Sirius.

 

 

He roared as he forced himself to turn, throwing hex after hex into the furniture of the room, forcing his rage, his violent magic, to obliterate, to crush and upheave everything around him. His body hissed in defiance, his heart clenched as tears filled his eyes, his throat went raw from his screaming. His lungs burned as he held back his sobs. Remus’s and Severus’s cries rang in his ears as they huddled together, desperately trying to shield themselves from his wrath. Again and again, he raged until nothing was left.

 

He sucked in air greedily, his wand falling from his bloodied hand as his other gripped and tore at his shirt, crying through the ache of his struggling lungs. Silence—his mind was finally quieted, his emotions spent as he stumbled over a broken chair to sit on the end of the bed. Ignoring both Remus and Severus as he pulled out his cigarettes with trembling hands. He fumbled once, then twice, before getting it just right between his lips and lighting it wandlessly. The first drag was absolutely divine, the second indescribable. His eyes were glassy as he exhaled. His heart ached.

 

“Don’t tell Hermione. I don’t think she’d be happy to learn I’ve taken up smoking.” He laughed as he harshly rubbed his face.

 

“As you wish, Sirius.” Severus answered, his tone hesitant as he broke the silence. His eyes watered again; he’d nearly hurt his friends.

 

He didn’t know what it was—the tone of his voice, the complete fucking wreck of the room, the sharp pain in his chest, or the fact the bed was still properly made—but he laughed, and once he started, he could hardly stop, grunting in pain after each deep, rib-bruising laugh. No one else laughed with him. When his hysteria finally stopped, he took one more drag of his cigarette before crumpling it between his fingers and vanishing it. Slapping his thighs as he forced himself up, he turned and made his way to the two cowering in the corner. He ignored the way they flinched as he neared, ignored how they paled at his smile. Ignored the slight shaking of Remus’s head as he got closer. Ignored the hot rush of terror that flooded his system from both of them.

 

“Come, Severus, help me get Remus up.” He moved to the other side of Remus’s curled form and gently took his arm. There was hesitation, but he just stared into Remus’s red eyes, trying to convey his regret. Remus seemed to understand, allowing both boys to help. He waited for Severus to take the other arm before gently helping Remus up on his feet and over to the bed. Remus grunted in pain as they gingerly set him down.

 

Sirius came to crouch down in front of Remus’s legs, taking in all the wounds on his body. Eyes pausing on the teeth marks around his neck.

 

“Listen, mate, you need to tell me exactly what happened tonight.” His tone was playful, but there was still an edge that made both boys tense.

 

“I..I” Remus stuttered, his emotions torn as he looked at the crazed expression on Sirius’s face.

 

It twisted into an ugly sneer.

 

“TELL ME!” He screamed, his veins bulging in his forehead as he clenched his fists. Remus paled, eyes wide as the magic between them snapped, and out came the words, flowing from his lips as if he was imperioused.

 

“Everything felt normal, except when you showed me your form, there was this feeling I got; it made me want to pin you, make you submit, I guess? The change was normal until I saw you. That’s when the thing inside me forced itself out and took over. As soon as you won the fight, it was over. I was back in control.” He swallowed as he began to shake, his body struggling to stay upright. His throat was throbbing as each word he spoke felt like razor blades cutting into him.

 

“I asked it what happened; it said we were all a pack now. It showed me your form, said you were the Alpha.” He snapped his lips shut, the compulsion now gone, leaning back confused. Severus steadied his body, his face pinched.

 

“Fuck, what was that?” Remus asked breathlessly, leaning heavily into Severus’s grip.

 

“I think… The pack magic overrode the potion… You didn’t belong to a pack before?” Severus asked as he eyed Sirius, clearly ignoring the way Sirius had seemed to force the words from Remus. Sirius was running a hand through his hair, his face grave as he took in Remus’s words.

 

“No, never. I’ve been alone since I was cursed as a kid.”

 

Sirius sighed, standing up from his crouched position, eyes glassy as he looked at Remus and Severus. His gut clenched and twisted as their emotions flooded him. They were nervous and anxious. He could help the bile that was rising in his throat. He knew this feeling, this combination of emotions. It was what he used to feel with his mother. Fuck.

 

He walked on unsteady legs and bent down to get his wand. Standing up and casting a few healing spells on the worst of his wounds before walking back and sitting on the bed next to Remus. Slowly pulling his wand, he moved to heal Remus. Severus joined without a word, both boys working quickly to help erase the damage of the night. When they finished, Severus sighed as he went to sit down on the bed to the right of Remus. Sirius grunted as he leaned into Remus’s tense shoulder.

 

“Fuck, mate, I’m sorry. To you too, Severus.” He felt Remus relax just a bit. Severus closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them and nodding.

 

“I don’t blame you, and I apologize for the way I acted. My mind’s… a bit fucked.” He chuckled. Guilt slowly eating him alive.

 

“Blame my fucking cousin parents or whatnot, but seriously, I don’t blame you one bit. You weren’t in control, and fuck—” Sirius lifted his head, leaning forward, eyes quickly looking at both.

 

“I didn’t hurt either of you, right?” He whispered, his voice raw as he forced himself to ask.

 

“No, bloody frightened, but you never hurt me.” Remus whispered.

Severus was quiet before he spoke, words measured.

 

“You didn’t; for some barmy reason I trusted you wouldn’t.” He ran a hand through his hair as he sighed again.

 

“Fuck, maybe my parents were cousins too.” He blurted out, eyes horrified at the thought.

 

Remus whipped his head, mouth open in disbelief, before breaking out into a weak laugh that slowly built into deep, bed-shaking rasps. They all chuckled, exhausted from the long night and flood of emotions.

 

Sirius leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he pulled at his hair and tried to process his emotions. He couldn’t do this again; he couldn’t completely fall apart like that. It wasn’t healthy; it wasn’t right. He vowed to figure out a way to deal with this darkness that simmered beneath the surface.

 

“What is an Alpha?” He questioned.

 

“I suppose the leader? Werewolves function a lot like regular wolves; there’s a hierarchy of dominance and leadership.” Severus mumbled as he pushed himself up, wand out as he started to repair the damage in the room. Remus’s shivering spurred Sirius into action; he got up, scouring the room to find something to cover him with. He smiled when he found a knitted blanket, so similar to the ones Hermione made, bundled up in the corner. With a quick wave of his wand, he cleaned it and made his way back to Remus, covering his shoulders and fretting with the fit until his shivering stopped. He patted him on the shoulder before turning to help Severus fix the mess he made.

 

When they were finished, both Sirius and Severus moved to leave the shack; Slughorn would be coming soon. Severus assured both that he would be able to recreate the same lock Slughorn had placed on the door.

 

Severus nodded to Remus, opening the door and lingering in the hallway. Sirius paused, eyes taking in the now fixed room, Remus’s lonely form sitting on the bed, bruised and weary. He felt like he had fucked everything up, ruined something his mate had already been struggling with.

 

“Remus.” He waited until his green eyes were looking at him.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m sorry too, Sirius. Tell Hermione for me.” Remus uttered. A soft but sincere smile graced his face.

 

Sirius laughed, although his guilt grew.

 

“I will, just don’t expect her to allow you to beat yourself up over this, okay, mate?”

 

This time Remus laughed; it was a brittle wisp that stung him more than he wanted to admit.

 

“Okay.”

 

Sirius’s legs were heavy as they made the trek back to the castle. His shoulders brushed against Severus’s, the magic sparking in his chest, feeding him with a flash of emotion. Weariness, determination, mild fear, and flickering bits of trust. It seemed he would need to learn to deal with more than just his emotions.

 

As they entered the castle and broke to head separate ways, Sirius stopped Severus.

 

“I’m sorry, mate. Are we good?” He held out his hand, pulse racing as he battled with the waves of disappointment and guilt that were slowly weighing him down.

 

Severus studied him, eyes unreadable. It only took a second before he grabbed his hand, shaking it tightly.

 

“It brings me a sense of… Relief. To know the wizard I’ve come to hold in high regard is just as frighteningly powerful as he is brilliant.” His grip tightened, crushing Sirius’s fingers in a punishing grip.

 

“Do not ever attempt to abuse my loyalty… This trust I have placed in you.”

 

Sirius swallowed, grateful relief flooding him at his words. He tightened his grip, pulling Severus in for a hug. He ignored his attempts to pull away and the harsh squirming—decided he didn’t hear the harsh whisper of “gross.” He pulled back and let go, patting the scowling snake on the shoulder.

 

“I promise.”

 

“Send Hermione my regards.”

 

Severus just glared at him as he patted down his robes and turned to leave, huffing as he made his way back to the dungeons.

 

Hermione nervously chewed on the corner of her fingers as she waited with James outside the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was a blessing; Hermione knew she had chosen to take her lie about falling at face value. Her soft eyes landing on the calendar hanging by her office, the full moon circled in bright red—something that could be seen even from a distance. She had pursed her lips as she checked her over, complimenting James on his expert healing, as she could find nothing wrong except some residual soreness. Something she mentioned could be taken care of with a mild dose of a pain potion.

 

Hermione gladly took it; she would have rather just allowed the soreness to go away on its own, but the memory of Sirius’s crumbling face compelled her to take it instead. She would rather not worry him; goodness knows what would happen if she winced or moved wrong during the day. It would probably send him into a tizzy. She also didn’t want Remus to feel more guilt than she knew he probably did. Pomfrey covertly checked on James while he fretted, sighing in relief when his diagnostic came back clear before shooing both of them out of the infirmary.

 

“Was… Was it always like that—I mean the moons?” James hesitantly stuttered out.

Hermione turned to scan his face, taking in his nervousness.

“No, they were rather peaceful. The first one had a lot of sniffing, but we just slept or played, honestly.” She frowned as her mind raced to figure out what went wrong.

 

“You know, that wasn’t Remus, right? He would never. He didn’t in the end.” Hermione cautioned, her heart squeezing as she hoped this introduction hadn’t soured James to helping Remus in the future or, worse, continuing to treat him normally.

 

James rounded on her, his face red. Eyes hurt.

 

“I know, I would never! The poor bloke, it was just so painful looking. When I read about the change, I never imagined it would be like that, and then whatever happened.” James started to pace, his hands coming up and moving in wild motions as he tried to get whatever was burdening him off his chest.

“I felt so useless the whole time! Like I’m this giant stag, but I couldn’t even help. Not even after everything was over. You should have seen him, Mia. He was devastated, clawing at his face, sobs, I don’t think I’ll ever unhear.” He turned back to her, his eyes glassy as he fought not to cry.

 

“And you got hurt—I couldn’t even keep it together long enough to remember I needed to help you too.”

 

Hermione’s heart melted. This was the kindness that Harry had always carried; it seems he had inherited a bit of James in this way as well. She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. He didn’t hesitate, pulling her tight as he sniffled. She rubbed his back in soothing circles, basking in the warmth of his embrace.

 

“James, you did exactly what you needed to. You made sure you didn’t leave us or Remus alone, and you got me to Pomfrey. You were wonderful.” She declared as she tried to reassure him.

 

“Sometimes our roles don’t seem like a lot in the moment, but they make all the difference in the end.” She pulled back, looking into his puffy face as she made sure he understood her words. She took it as a victory when she noticed the slight curve of a smile starting to emerge as he struggled to believe her words.

 

“Thanks, Mia.”

 

They fell into a comfortable silence as they waited, both leaning on each other, unwilling to let go of the tiny bit of comfort. They perked up when they heard footsteps from down the hall. Hermione picked at the edge of her shirt, fingers rolling the fabric back and forth as her pulse quickened. It was Sirius, still battered and hurt as he made his way to them. The pitiful smile on his face made her want to steal him away, made her want to tackle him and find out what had made him so sad. To find the reason his magic was crying out so desperately for hers.

 

“I think I’m going to head back to the common room now. I’ll get dressed while you talk. Meet you back here before classes?” James uttered as he moved to rub his tired eyes once more.

 

“That sounds perfect, James.”

 

She watched as the two boys exchanged glances and small nods before James disappeared down the hall.

 

“Hey, Princess.” It was soft as he came close, grunting as he pulled her in for a hug, burying himself in her curls. Inhaling deeply before melting against her hold.

 

“Please tell me you’re okay.”

 

“I am, Pomfrey approved and all.” she reassured. His whole body shuddered in relief.

 

“Will you let me heal you now?” She whispered as she gingerly held him close, hands unsure as she placed them around his hips. When he didn’t answer, she simply pulled away and took in the look on his face; something had gone wrong. There were no more words exchanged as she pulled him along to a hidden alcove. It was a place she had gone to many times before when she needed to escape for a moment. He chuckled in surprise when she pulled him behind a tapestry into a small room that had a bench. Leading him over, she made him sit before pulling her wand and scouring his body for wounds. One by one she healed him, biting her bottom lip as she winced over some of the deeper scratches.

 

When she was done, she stood in between his spread legs, a hand coming up to cup his face, the other moving to play with the hair at the base of his neck, fingertips running against his clammy skin. When he had relaxed enough, when his magic no longer cried but simpered, she asked what had been eating away at her.

 

“Tell me what happened after Sirius.”

 

He sighed but didn’t move from her attentions.

 

“I’ve… I’ve been feeding into some bad habits over the summer—I nearly… I almost hexed him, princess. Hexed one of my friends for something he couldn’t control. And Severus got caught in it too.” He closed his eyes tightly, his body tensing back up.

 

“I just, I get so worked up sometimes, and when it comes to you. I just, I can’t stand it. Just the thought of you getting hurt makes me a bit barmy, but I had to see it this time. It was real. Not something my fucked-up brain conjured.”

 

He snapped his eyes open, sadness flooding the stormy grey, something that cut her deeply. His hands came up to hold her hips as he pulled her closer, arms moving to wrap around her as he placed his head on her chest. His eyes closed as the sound of her heart beating helped calm him.

 

“Did you apologize? To both of them?” She whispered as she ran her hands through his hair.

“Yes—but it, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough,” he whispered as he snuggled closer.

“Then show them, be there, be present, and… be in control.” She played with his silky strands, her mind racing as she tried to find the best way to help him. The older Sirius had struggled all the way until his death to curb his impulsive and volatile emotions. She didn’t like comparing the two, but even with the timeline changes, there were still core aspects of what she knew of him that had stayed the same. It thrilled and sobered her, because this time her mind cruelly warped her memories. Instead of him rushing to Harry’s defense, it was her in his place. It was her and him battling together at the ministry. It was her he died defending. She pulled him closer, tilting his head back as she looked into his sorrowful eyes.

 

Bending down, she kissed him, once and then twice. They were chaste, so different from the many kisses they had shared before, but they affected her all the same. Her heart beating in exhilaration, her blood burning. His magic clung to her, more tightly than his arms, but she felt his relief, his happiness slowly building.

 

“I will, and apparently your wizard here is top dog,” he chuckled as he looked into her eyes.

“Hmm, really? The masculine posturing after I was gone went that well?” she teased.

 

“No, really. I’m the alpha.”

 

“Wait, what?” She pulled her hands from his hair, something that made him grunt in dissatisfaction. He pouted, refusing to say anything until she returned her hands.

 

“Severus figured what happened tonight probably had to do with some sort of werewolf pack dynamics; Remus said the wolf in him took control for a bit. Said I was the alpha after I got him to settle down.”

 

Hermione’s mind raced; this was a massive deviance. It was something she hardly knew about herself, but she had overheard minor conversations in the past and noticed how Sirius would often defer to Remus in certain situations. What did that mean for them? What did that mean for Remus?

 

“Kiss me.”

 

Sirius whispered, breaking her from her spiraling thoughts. Her mind tingling at his low tone, magic purring as she felt almost compelled to listen to him, it was a soft whisper, a soft tug at the bond between them. A tempting suggestion. Her heartbeat skyrocketed as she felt the heat building between them.

 

“Oh, that’s interesting.”

 

She smiled as she lowered her face to kiss him, her hands tugging harshly as she drank in his mischievous smile. She could easily ignore it but chose to listen to her instincts instead. She’d hex him later.

 

October 8th, 1974 Hogwarts

 

It had taken several apologies, numerous talks of acceptance and understanding, copious amounts of chocolates, and physical barricades before Remus returned to somewhat normal. Hermione noticed how he still shied away a bit, but she wouldn’t allow him to ignore them and run away like he wanted to. Tonks and Sirius had lamented together over drinks before their deaths about how self-pitying and self-deprecating Remus could get if he was allowed to get worked up over something. It just cultivated his self-sabotaging nature if it wasn’t nipped in the bud.

 

Sitting next to him as she read in the quidditch stands, she gently pushed on his thigh with her own.

“Hmm?” He barely moved as he devoured the new defense book she had gotten for him. His eyes fluttered back and forth as he ignored the training game above them.

 

“Remus.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

She bumped him again, this time with a bit more force.

“Ouch, Mia. What?” He finally paused from his book to look at her, a bit dazed and irritated with her prodding.

 

“Thank you for being my friend.”

 

Her lips pulled into a blinding smile as she watched his ears and cheeks turn pink, his head turning back to his book as he tried to raise it to cover his face. She giggled as she scooted closer, resting her head on his shoulder before going back to her book. It took a while, but eventually she felt the soft weight of his head as he rested his on hers.

She only hummed in response when she heard his soft reply through the excitement above them.

 

“Thank you.”

 

October 25th, 1974 Hogwarts

 

One, two, three, four, five.

 

It was the number of times she had to raise her wand to complete the spell circuit as she worked through charming pin after pin. Her mind frazzled as she pushed her magic, stretching it to complete the delicate charm work required. After finding a cursed first-year Muggle-born convulsing in an abandoned hallway, her mind had been tortured with the memories of her past. She could feel it, that slow creeping anxiety that used to live underneath her skin. It had horrified her how lax she had gotten, how she had no longer kept herself primed for a fight although she had trained her body. It was even worse when she was with Sirius, that small part of her letting go and trusting him with their safety allowing her mind to finally breathe and relax. But it was a bandage, a minor relief in a sea of horror that continued to haunt her.

 

Faces, hundreds of dead faces, kept appearing in her dreams, screaming and clawing at her skin, begging her to save them. Because she knew she was the only one who had seen the future, seen the carnage.

 

Soft and warm hands enveloped hers, slowly lowering her wand to the ground. She dropped the pin she had been working on into the blanket beneath her, huffing in frustration.

 

“Love, it’s time you take a break. Come here.” Sirius murmured as he easily shifted her forward from her spot on the ground, moving to sit behind her as he pulled her into his lap. He easily recast a warming charm on both of them as he settled in and rested his back against the tree she had been working under. The strong urge to cry hit her all at once. Her defenses broke as she soaked in his warmth, his scent, and the gentleness of his caresses against her back and arms.

 

“I need to finish Siri.” She whispered as she hid her face in the crook of his neck, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck. Sniffling as he pulled her tighter.

 

“Hmm, how terrible to hear, because I don’t think I’ll be letting you go for another… 15 minutes. I’m positively difficult like that.” He hummed as he held her, his hands coming up to run through her messy curls.

 

“Princess?”

“Yes?”

 

“Do you like me?”

“Of course I do, Sirius!” She pulled back quickly, nervous at his sudden line of questioning. His eyes drank in her tears.

 

“Good because I really like you.” He smiled as he continued to run his hands through her curls, one hand coming up to wipe away the few stragglers that had escaped her eyes.

 

“Do you trust me?” He whispered next, his piercing grey eyes staring into hers, stunning her with his beauty. Her magic surged, flowing over them both as she leaned back down, hiding her face in his neck once more.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then tell me, tell me what’s going on in that big beautiful brain of yours so I can help you. It hurts seeing you, feeling you so scared and anxious.”

 

Struggling to voice her worries as her heart tightened, her insecurities of the past flowing through her mind. She hated crying, she hated feeling vulnerable, because she had no other choice; she had to be the strong one, had to be the one with the plans, the one to make the tough decisions. It was the sole reason they had kept her around. But…this was Sirius. Her Sirius. The words tumbled out of her.

 

“I’m scared. I hadn’t realized how much I had come to expect the school to be peaceful, to be so different from the outside. They ripped it away, that peace, and I—I needed it.”

 

He cradled her head, holding her closer as she confessed. She sighed in relief, soaking in how strong he felt, the light pressure of his body against her, and the soothing feeling of his magic. He felt safe. He had always felt safe to her.

 

“And the pins?” He questioned.

 

“I can fight; I can protect myself. But there are so many who can’t.”

 

He placed a kiss against her curls as he shifted to get more comfortable.

 

“Thank you for telling me. This is something I think I can help with.” He whispered into her ear.

 

“Will you trust me to take care of this for you?”

 

Her heart was beating in her chest; no one had ever offered. Helped—sometimes, but never offered to simply fix what plagued her. Her tears were back in full force as she softly answered.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Thank you, Princess.”

Chapter 39: You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet

Summary:

A gardener knows to be thorough is to survive the winter.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

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“Destiny is shaped by thoughts, influenced by choices, and executed by hands.”― Michael Bassey Johnson

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October 26th, 1974 Hogwarts

 

Ascending higher and higher, each step he took was one inch closer to solving the problem that was plaguing his witch. It had taken more time than he had liked to be able to make sure the proper people were assembled. The price he had to pay was knowledge, relinquishing something that was shared with him, something that he had hesitated sharing, yet he couldn’t find any dissatisfaction with his choice.

 

Instead, he was brimming with energy, overflowing with purpose as he paced three times. The door that revealed itself was a welcome relief. As he stepped inside, he couldn’t help but smile at the flood of emotions from the group waiting on him. It seemed they were just as excited.

 

“Finally, do you know how long we’ve had to wait in your dark lair? I mean, the room is cool and all, but your decorating skills are absolutely abysmal, Black.” Amy scrunched her nose as she pointed her head to the walls layered in prophet articles and wild writing.

 

“I don’t know, he is Black, Amy; this might be the normal ambiance for a family like his.” Beth teased.

 

“No, I’ve been to some Black properties and… This, well, this is a bit macabre even for them. Really, what the heck, Sirius?” Lily questioned as she wandered the room, her eyes unable to stop reading the articles plastered. Paling as she came across one with more detail than she ever wanted.

“Hey now, it’s rude to comment on my eccentric personal style. I’m sure Mother taught you at least that much, Lils.” He quipped back; his voice was teasing, but there was a harshness there, something Severus and James picked up on. One pair of eyes narrowing and the other curious. He felt a bit of satisfaction when she flinched; there was something that rankled him about Lily because she was Hermione’s sister, she was blood, and so she should have been the one to notice. She should have been the first to mention how weary and stressed she had been, but it had been him in the end. It always was. He walked over to shake Severus’s hand before moving on to Remus and James. Winking at Beth and Amy, who were sitting on the couch, he moved to pull a shrunken box from his pocket.

 

Enlarging it once he placed it on the table in front of them, he called Lily over.

 

“Since Dumbledore’s decided he wanted a mock junior Death Eater training ground on Hogwarts, my little witch has absolutely been beside herself trying to figure out how to fix his fuck up—So” he paused to look at each one of their curious faces. He dug his hand into the box and pulled out a slightly modified pin.

 

“I need a bit of help charming these little buggers. I’ve created the first to model the rest off, but these little pieces still meet Hogwarts bylaws and regulations… With a bit of a twist.”

 

He handed one off to Severus, eyes challenging him to break down the spell combinations on his own. He handed his charm sheet to Remus; it detailed the breakdown of what they needed to do. James leaned over his shoulder, eyes absorbing the combination—a bright smile took over his face as he finished.

 

“Oi, this is brilliant, mate, and I think this counts as a bit of a prank.” James laughed as he moved to sit on the couch next to Lily, leaning forward to grab a handful of pins. Remus chuckled as he passed the charm sheet over to James, who showed it to the ladies on the couch. Amy laughed as Beth smiled before turning to look at Sirius.

 

“This is… Really silly but brilliant, Black. You know, Mia did mention you were diabolically intelligent, and I can’t help but agree.”

 

“Speaking of Mia, how is she not going to notice we’re all missing? We are certainly her favorites.” Amy inquired as she reached to grab a handful of pins herself.

 

“I just put two of my very favorite, very passionate people together.” He moved to pull Severus and Remus to the side while the rest started on the charmwork.

 

“And?” Lily asked as she reread the spells, silently moving her wand in practice before grabbing a pin.

 

“I might have mentioned something about Elf rights to my brother and might have made sure that happened when I was walking Hermione to the library. Merlin, who would have guessed that got both of them going? Barely even noticed I left.”

 

That got a hum of ‘of course’ from the group. Sirius pulled another parchment out of his pocket, placing it on the back table as Severus and Remus leaned in to look.

 

“So, Feathers, did you figure it out?”

Severus sputtered, his face pinched in disgust as he heard the nickname.

 

“Merlin, no, I refuse.”

 

“Too late, Feathers, request denied. Alpha and all that jazz, so?”

 

Severus groaned before harshly slamming the pin over the parchment.

 

“You’re really going to pull rank on this? Did I not properly threaten you?”

 

Sirius pointed to himself before smiling, eyes twinkling as he took in Severus’s mild agitation. His words were saying one thing, but his emotions… Well, he couldn’t exactly hide his slight amusement from him now. Pointing to his smiling face, he teased Severus more.

 

“Remember, I’m a bit barmy, family loop instead of tree and all that; I see threats as terms of endearment. So, feathers, back to this.” He rolled the pin back and forth on the parchment.

 

“It’ll hold. I’m guessing you want to work this master to the map,” he hissed out, head turning as he frowned. Deeply.

 

“Anchor it specifically.” He hummed.

 

“Wait, what did you add to this, Sirius?” Remus questioned.

 

“It’s the Master pin.” Severus responded, pausing as he waited for Remus to figure it out.

 

“No… Really? Sirius, we can’t do that.” Remus chided as he reached to pick up the pin, wand coming out to utter a diagnostic charm.

“We anchor it to the map; the information sent back to the master will record it. It takes care of three things…” Sirius stated, moving to lean back on a free part of the table as Remus worked through the spell matrix.

 

“James, get over here.” Remus yelled, eyes never moving from the diagnostic. James huffed but made his way over.

“What? I had a good rhythm going.”

 

“Look at this mess.” Remus nodded his head to the diagnostic.

 

James’s hazel eyes widened as he scrutinized the spell matrix on the diagnostic; his hand came up to pull his glasses, cleaning them on his jumper before setting them back and reviewing the information again.

 

“Sirius…. I know we want to finish the map, but this… This is an invasion of privacy.”

 

Sirius’s eyes never wavered as he stared into James, head tilting to the side in his silence.

 

“Prongs, the map itself is an invasion of privacy. The pins at least won’t say who is providing the data while it crafts the map.”

 

“Prongs?”

 

“Yeah, cause of the antlers.” Sirius stated, looking at James as if he was slow.

“Shit, are we giving each other names? I want to give one.” Sirius smiled as he could feel James’s excitement and Remus’s growing exasperation. James looked to Severus; before he could open his mouth, Sirius shook his head.

 

“This one’s feathers, prongs.”

“Ah, makes sense.” James nodded his head sagely, his hand coming up to tap his lips as he stared at Sirius. He narrowed his eyes before snapping his finger and pointing.

 

“Padfoot!”

 

Sirius paused, taking it in before smiling.

 

“Yes, I think that sounds brilliant.”

 

“UGHHH please, please. This! We need to talk about this!” Remus grunted and groaned, hands moving back and forth as he continued to point at the floating diagnostic above the pin. Severus chuckled, arms folding as he leaned on the table like Sirius as he watched James and Sirius turn their attention onto Remus.

“Don’t be so moody….” Sirius started.

“Moony.” James finished. Both boys turned their heads to look at each other, bright smiles taking over their faces as they pointed at one another.

 

“Bloody brilliant, mate.” Sirius complimented as he came to pat James on the back; James returned the pat with one of his own on Sirius’s back.

“I knew you had taste, Padfoot.”

 

“Bloody idiots, the both of you.” Severus mumbled, turning to scratch down his thoughts on a separate piece of parchment before handing it over to Sirius. He shook his head all the way back to the couch, stopping only to sit down in James’s spot and grab a handful of pins to start.

 

Sirius reviewed the changes and handed it to Remus.

“Better?”

 

Remus studied the parchment intently.

 

“Yes, this, this will work… Padfoot.” He grinned as he canceled his diagnosis and picked up the pin to study it.

 

Eventually they returned to crowd around the table, each taking a handful of pins to charm as they worked through their free period. Sirius couldn’t help but notice the soft contentment that filled him as he worked around his friends. Eyes occasionally sliding to the marked walls behind them.

 

When they finished a large majority of the pins, Sirius thanked them before taking the completed ones. He separated from the group heading to lunch to make his way to the astronomy tower. He made his way to the balcony. There, waiting against the railing, was a group of his owlets, one representative from each house. He couldn’t feel them, but his Animagus senses filled in the gaps his magic could not; they smelled a bit nervous. They were twitchy as he silently made his way over; he moved further away from them before pulling out his cigarettes. He pulled one out and lit it, taking a deep breath before addressing the group. He exhaled, smoke swirling and rising before being blown away in the wind.

 

“No need to be nervous, gentlemen. I’ve got something that might interest you.” He finally turned to look at them again; he was met with shining eyes filled with curiosity. He channeled his grandfather and his father, pulling from the hundreds of memories of his youth. It settled over him as he opened his mouth to speak, his voice low and commanding.

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

“Of course, Mr. Black!” Collins, a fellow Gryffindor, chirped—Sirius noted he seemed to be the defacto boss in the group. The rest nodded along to his answer, eagerly awaiting his next words. He pulled a pin from his robe pocket and tossed it to him. The boy caught it, eyes marveling at how it sparkled in the light.

 

“This is a sign of my protection, of my witches protection. If you choose to wear it, you represent me and mine. So choose wisely before you decide.” He cautioned, face blank as his intense gaze pinned the boy down. He lifted a hand to his hair, smoothing it back before taking another drag.

 

“It will protect you from most curses and jinxes; it will also alert anyone else who wears a pin that you need assistance. You’ve seen how I treat those who attempt to harm someone I consider mine; you’ve seen what my witch is capable of.” He moved, crumbling his cigarette and vanishing it before coming to stand in front of Collins and the boys. He gently took the pin from his hands and held it up, rolling it between his fingers. It was a golden peony.

 

“This represents only those who are worthy of the consideration of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black and the Most Illustrious and Noble House of Evans.” He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, lowering his voice as he noticed how they all seemed to stand straighter, pride filling their expressions as they realized what he meant.

 

“I gathered you all here because I have seen who you are. I have seen your loyalty, your ability. You all are worthy. So I must ask, must offer this to you—continue to work with me, continue to stand by my side, and allow me to protect you as you do.”

 

There was a chorus of “yeses” from each; he smiled as he set the pin on Collins’ shirt collar. Next was Robinson from Hufflepuff, then Wilts from Ravenclaw, and last was Corvus from Slytherin.

 

“When you wear this, you represent House Black and Evans… Do not abuse our protection or trust. Or you will be answering to me. Do you understand?” The boys paled just slightly but nodded in acceptance.

 

“Spread the word, be discreet. Anyone who feels unsafe, who needs protection, tell them to come see me,” he ordered.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Black.” Collins whispered, his hand coming up to rub the pin on his collar. He turned and led the rest of the boys out of the astronomy tower.

 

Sirius sighed, popping his neck before pulling his wand and vanishing the smell of smoke. He started making his way back down the tower. This was another step, another move. There was much more he still needed to do.

 

A bubbling feeling of warmth built in his chest as the smiling image of his witch popped in his mind. He couldn’t wait to hear her go off on all the things she spoke about with his brother.

 

October 28th, 1974 Hogwarts

 

At first she had hardly noticed it, the shining glint under the candlelight as she walked past in the halls, accompanied by Amy and Beth. People moved now, their magic moving, flowing like gentle waves that parted as she waded forward. They had been respectful before, but now it held a reverence, a soft appreciation she felt in every corner of the castle entrenched with the steadying comfort of magic most familiar to her. Peonies, golden peonies, filled her gaze as hundreds of witches and wizards now wore pins doused with Sirius’s and her friends magic. Her heart swelled; he had done it, had blanketed the school in something that calmed her mind, that mimicked the safety she had felt before. She couldn’t stand it.

 

She rushed forward, ignoring the soft protests of Amy and Beth as she made her way down the hall. Magic burning as she felt his cool brush, she pushed forward to the place she knew he would be waiting, where he always was for her.

 

As soon as she was within reach, as soon as his dazzling smile forced out her own, she launched herself into his arms. Squeezing tightly as he lifted her up and spun her around.

 

He laughed as she peppered his face with kisses, ignoring the catcalling and loud whistles from the crowd.

 

“Hey Princess”

 

“Shut up! Why are you soo…UGH..” She kissed him again.

 

Why was he so fucking amazing??

 

He laughed loudly, smiling as he looked at her scrunched-up face.

 

“Feel better now?”

 

Fuck she really did love him.

 

“Much better.”

 

October 30th, 1974 Hogwarts

 

As the days grew longer and colder, the magic of Hogwarts warmed, as if it had been trapped in a perpetual spring. Tensions cooled as aggressors felt the change in the atmosphere, in the confident defiance their prey exuded. Once again a prefect sighed as he tried to be respectful—tried not to laugh in the face of the 7th-year Slytherin. His golden peony sparkled against his throat as he led the student to the great hall.

 

Alexander Gromov.

 

He was from a prominent pureblood family, one he had bragged about spanning back centuries in Russia. Yet, he moped as he followed the prefect to dinner, staring down into his hands that were now bright and very, very red. It looked as if he had dipped his hand into hot red wax. He winced when he looked up and caught his reflection in a hall mirror.

 

He was wearing a black knitted beanie on his head, there was dark black coloring around his eyes in the shape of a mask, and his robes had been glamoured into a black and white striped jumper. Sighing, he knew he shouldn’t have hexed that half-blood.

 

Hermione was walking with Sirius to dinner, completely engrossed in trying to get him to understand how some runic formations complemented each other more than others. As they walked into the hall, her thoughts cut off as her eyes caught the large group of students crowding around the front of the hall. She blinked, once and then twice. Her head slowly taking in James and Remus’s smug faces. Even Severus was barely holding back his smile. Amy and Beth were lost causes as they laughed and whispered to themselves. Lily, her lovely, brilliant sister, was completely red in the face, trying to hold in her laughter as she looked to the group.

 

The best part was that Dumbledore’s twinkle was no longer present as he rubbed his forehead, talking slowly to the other professors as they gestured to the group.

 

She could feel it bubbling up, an almost painful stitch building as she pressed her lips tighter, struggling to hold it together. She squeezed his hand hard as she turned to look at her boyfriend. The absolutely goofy look on his face did her in.

 

She laughed loud—so loud it startled the entire hall as her deep, hearty laughs rang out. It was slow, but infectious as the rest of the students started to join her. She was wheezing as she slowly dropped to the ground, tears pouring from her face as she continued.

 

There, slowly turning red in humiliation, was a bunch of pureblood students glamoured as Muggle cartoon criminals, caught red-handed, as they stuttered and mumbled out why they looked that way.

 

Sirius just smiled as he leaned down with her, their hands never separating.

 

October 31st, 1974 Hogwarts 7:30pm

 

“Sirius, where exactly are we going? It’s Halloween.”

 

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise now, would it?”

 

She pouted as she tugged on his hand.

 

“You know I’m not a fan of surprises.”

 

He just wiggled his eyebrows as he pulled her along through the castle. Curiosity burned as she followed him; it grew nearly unbearable as he led her out of the castle. Only pausing to place warming charms on them both and casting a soft lumos before leading her down the path to an open field hidden by a cove of trees.

 

Magic burst behind her eyes as her senses exploded. There in the cove were hundreds of students waiting, standing in elaborate masks that covered their eyes; behind them was a long, thin line of fire. On the other side were long wooden tables that seemed to mimic the ones in the great hall. Fruits, meats, and decadent dishes covered the top as Hogwarts elves flittered about, arranging plates and cups. The heat from the fire radiated out, filling her body with warmth.

 

Sirius’s heart was beating frantically in his chest as he gazed on the wonder taking over her lovely face. His blood was burning as he held her bare hand in his, as his eyes roamed over the tight black gown that was draped across her body. Her auburn curls were wild as they swayed in the wind, her golden eyes flashing in the night. Her magic was overpowering as it devoured the ambient magic around them. She was magnificent, and soon, everyone else would know it as well. He pulled her close, gently combing a stray curl behind her ear.

 

“Tonight is Samhain, a night when the veil between the known and unknown worlds is the thinnest. It hinges between two celestial polarities.” He guided her over to the group as he whispered in her ear. His touch, warm and steadying. His magic was cool and refreshing as it slid across her skin.

 

“Light, Dark, Warmth, and Cold. Life and Death.”

 

The crowd parted, allowing them to make their way to the front, closest to the fire.

 

“You trusted me to help you, so trust me in this. I know that bleeding heart of yours will still fret, albeit more silently now.”

 

He paused, pulling back to slide out a glimmering black veil from his robes. She gasped. It looked ancient; it was a jeweled face veil, lined in diamonds, stitched and weaved together with shining black tulle, hundreds of shimmering constellations covering the nearly translucent fabric as it connected to a thin, golden-spiked tiara.

 

“This is typically worn by the witch chosen to be the priestess who leads the Samhain ritual. This has been worn by hundreds of witches in my family, and now I wish that you wear it and lead the ritual tonight. Wear it, and bless those that have gathered here with your protection.” His voice was low and soft as he looked into her eyes, waiting for her to accept. He knew. How could he know? Why was he the only one that ever understood her? He had done what he promised, made the castle feel safe, and made her worries lessen, but there would always be a piece of her that wanted more, that wanted to help, and he was here giving it to her in the only way he knew how. He was divine.

 

Smiling when she gave a slight nod, he moved to place the veil on top of her head, her dark, burn curls spilling out beneath. The shimmering fabric, falling as it lengthened to blend into the darkness of her dress.

 

“I… I’ve never done a Samhain ritual before, Sirius.” Her mind was racing as her magic vibrated in pleasure; this felt right. It was different from the winter rituals she had done before. The magic around them was rich, although it felt thinner and stretched as it soaked into her body and bled off the hundreds of students waiting.

 

“The priestess needs only to cross the boundary, and all things unknown will become known,” he murmured as he looked to the fire. She took a deep breath as she tried to calm her racing heart. He had never spoken this way to her, filled with such solemnity, with a gravity that stilled her to her core.

 

She had trusted him before with the small pieces of herself; he handled them with care, with love, and with unwavering dedication. It was so easy to decide she would entrust him with her magic as well.

 

“I’ll do it.”

 

She sucked in a breath; his grey eyes shone silver in the firelight. It was hauntingly beautiful, as if he was a dark fae that had revealed himself to her after stepping from behind the veil.

 

She stepped forward, heart beating as she closed her eyes and allowed her instincts to take over, allowed the magic of the night to guide her. Opening them to gaze across the fire, she noticed Nox was waiting on the other side; in his hands rested a bowl that looked like it was carved from the skull of a mythical beast.

 

Cross the boundary, and all will be revealed.

 

It was soft, the voice that slid through her ears, tempting and enticing her forward. She picked up the hem of her dress, taking a breath before she ran, her body burning as she jumped over the fire. As she passed over, she felt a wave of intense magic flow across her body, washing away her worries, her fears, washing away the sickly weight that had only lightened in the recent days. As her feet landed on the other side, she turned to look back; there in the flames was the ghost of her past. Hundreds of smiling faces, burning as they waited. Tears gathered in her eyes as the bloody form of Harry stepped forward; he looked just like the last time she had seen him. Glasses cracked, head bloody and gaunt, he gave her a sad smile. She heard nothing but knew the words his ghostly form uttered from his lips as they all vanished, burned within the ritual flames.

 

Live Hermione

 

Tears fell as she felt relief, felt the freedom of her mind, and magic as it was renewed.

 

“Master.” Nox stepped forward, offering up the bowl; now she could see it was filled with the ash from the boundary fire. As if compelled, she reached forward, dipping her fingers into the ash, only to take them out and trace the rune Dagaz on the backs of her hands.

 

Awakening, certainty, illumination, completion, and hope.

 

This ritual was to prepare for the winter ahead, to shed the devilish shadows that encumber oneself, to examine the duality of one’s nature, and to choose a pathway forward.

 

Magic was burning through her blood, filling her as she became the vessel, the priestess of the night, the guide, and the purifier of souls.

 

She called them; it was time to cross the boundary.

 

One by one they crossed, braving the flames and the unknown to kneel at her feet on the other side. She asked each, what did they seek? What did they wish?

 

Fiery red hair and emerald eyes, Lily was the first to cross, her soft voice confessing her wish.

 

Peace

 

She traced Wunjo across her exposed brow.

 

Black hair and hazel eyes, James grinned as he fell, kneeling at her feet.

 

He wished for success.

 

She traced Fehu across his brow.

 

Sandy blonde hair and dusky green eyes, Remus lowered himself in reverence as he uttered the desire for protection.

 

She traced Algiz upon his unblemished cheeks.

 

Black hair and Black eyes, a proud wizard faltered before kneeling at her feet. Severus wished for honor.

 

She cradled his face as she traced sowilo across his brow.

 

More came, faster now as they braved the flames.

 

She dipped her fingers into the ash and blessed them, drawing the rune that would best fulfill their requests, magic empowering it, filling them with the same magic burning through her blood. An elf would come forward to lead the student to their seat, to fill their cups and stomachs as they shared their meals, breaking bread with their seatmates as the intoxicating magic resonated between them.

 

He was the last, illuminated by the fire as he made his way to kneel before her, stunning her, enchanting her as his eyes gazed upon her in adoration.

 

“What is it that you seek?”

 

“Balance and Strength”

He whispered as he looked up into her glowing eyes.

 

She dipped her hands into the ash, fingers lightly tracing the runes Gebo and Uruz as he closed his eyes. Relishing the way her fingers danced across his skin.

 

She leaned to place a kiss across his brow; the sharp, tingling heat spread through him; their was magic connecting and blending as he opened his eyes.

 

The runes were glowing on his pale skin.

 

Holding out her hand, she helped him up from the ground, neck craning as he towered over her. His hands came up to gently remove the veil from her face. Handing it off to Nox, who had come forward.

 

She studied his flushed cheeks and burning eyes.

 

“Let’s go.” She pulled him along, eyes never leaving him as they navigated to their seats.

Their hands entwined together, connected as one under the light of the moon.

She never wanted to let go, for he felt like magic—wild, beautiful, and incomparable—yet hers.

Chapter 40: Stuck in the Middle with You

Summary:

Sometimes, one must recognize when a patch of soil is poisonous.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; this is my first fanfic

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“History is full of examples of men with deep-seated grievances who embraced good causes, in part at least, to settle old scores.”― Carl Bridenbaugh

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November 1st, 1974 Hogwarts

 

Mother Nature had been kind to the inhabitants of the Scottish Highlands, skies clear as the sun shone down upon Hogwarts, rays trickling through the windows and cracks. Seeping into weathered stone and charmed dorms as it fought the bitter cold that pervaded the castle.

 

There was something cruel about his magic, an icy edge that she had never noticed in her past life that seemed to be eager to present itself more and more in her presence. Perhaps this was the same cruel magic that had attracted Gellert all those years ago. Dumbledore remained silent as he kept his back turned to her. Hermione took note of the bare perch in the corner of his office—it seemed that Fawkes had not been at his post in some time.

 

“I find that as one ages, that history tends to repeat. Certain cycles emerge regardless of how the times change or how different the new generation is from the last.”

 

She froze, pulling her hands together, pressing them tightly in her lap as she forced herself to occlude as she observed the unsettling form of the wizard, who was becoming a stranger more and more each day.

 

“Is it history that is so familiar, or are you searching for a pattern you wish to see?”

 

“Perhaps, it is both.” He hummed, body shifting, his uncommonly drab robes blending into the dark surroundings as he slowly turned, moving with the calculated grace of what one would expect of the most powerful wizard of the century.

 

“Do you know why I have called you here?” He uttered as he slowly slid into his seat, expressions muted on his face as he rearranged his robes, cold blue eyes finally taking her in.

 

“No, I can’t say that I do.” She answered as she shifted in her seat, her body instinctively turning, her chest moving slightly sideways, her arms shielding her more vulnerable spots, and her hands moving closer to her wand in the pocket of her robes. Her eyes caught the slight curve of his thin lips as he observed her. He was amused at her unease.

 

“I have always considered Hogwarts a bastion of progress, a sacred ground of magical convergence. For it is the beginning, the true beginning, that cultivates the future. It is why I have worked so hard to shape and mold Hogwarts and its curriculum.” He shifted again, his hands coming together to sit upon his desk.

 

“Dark rituals—dark magic will never be welcomed within her walls. Not while I live.”

 

Ah. Hermione sighed, eyes drifting from the imposing form of the wizard in front of her to the cold perch. She stood, hands still at her side as she walked over to the window behind the perch. The light of the sun warmed her chilled face as she closed her eyes.

 

“Magic is a blessing and a curse, for it’s not gods that wield it, but simple men—simple women. Imperfect beings, grey matter that exists in-between the vibrant beauty of this world.” Tracing the delicate designs on the window, she turned slightly, eyes narrowing as she watched him.

 

“It seems in your old age you’ve lost the ability to see the wealth of colors… or perhaps you’ve never been able to see them.”

 

She pushed from the window, moving to leave as a deep feeling of sadness took over; it felt like she was mourning, once again mourning the death of a man so large and pivotal in her memories. This twisted, coiling figure soured them.

 

“Miss Evans, I will not allow another generation of witches and wizards to be beguiled by dark magic into following another rising dark lord… Or Lady.”

 

“Samhain is sacred, a connection with our past and the one time a year when the veil is thin enough to see the pathways forward, ways to survive the harsh winter.”

 

Her eyes landed on the portrait behind him, the only one he had allowed to remain. Phineas Black stood still; she smiled a bit, for he reminded her for once of the Muggle paintings, beautiful, tortured, yet unmovable.

 

“Sirius Black has always been a paragon for the light, now…and in the future. I have and will always cross the boundary needed to ensure that our future will remain bright, Headmaster.”

 

Placing her hand on the doorknob, she wondered if this was simply time trying to correct itself, time trying to erase the anomaly of her existence that had latched onto the time stream, unwilling to die, to be extinguished. She steeled herself.

 

“What you see as dark is simply grey. A balance you’ve lost the ability to understand. Do not attempt to tip the scales, Headmaster.”

 

Opening the door, she stared at the steps, hesitant to start her descent. Turning once more to look behind Dumbledore.

 

“Phineas… Mon centre cède. Ma droite recule. La situation est excellente. J’attaque.”

 

 

November 3rd, 1974 Hogwarts

 

Confetti fluttered in the air as loud music blasted through the common room, and the shimmering banner swayed—Happy Birthday Sirius, scrawled in red and gold, shimmying and wiggling as the banner nearly came unstuck. Hermione soaked in the atmosphere, the soft reds and earthy hues of a room she had spent so many years in. It was the same, yet less weathered, less burdened than she had remembered. Eyes glazed as she watched Sirius move with a magnetism that blinded her. He shone, shone so brightly that everyone around him couldn’t help but be pulled into his orbit, couldn’t help but want to bask in his light. His deep laugh, as infectious as his smile, warmed her heart.

 

She fingered the necklace resting on her collar as she watched from her corner near the fire. She watched as he shrugged off the feminine hand that had landed on his shoulder and watched as he slightly turned to see who wanted his attention. Watched as a familiar blonde-headed witch smiled brightly at him, wishing him a happy birthday.

 

Unease rolled through her as she watched him smile, not as brightly, in thanks but lingering near her as she tried to keep his attention. Her mind couldn’t help but pull forth those hazy memories she had suppressed, ones featuring this very common room except it was with another wizard and another witch—that had crushed the small piece of her that had been growing all those years ago. Reminding herself that this wasn’t Ron, this was her Sirius. Yet the witch standing next to him, eyes sparkling as if he had hung the moon, was none other than Marlene McKinnon.

 

The witch who lingered in his shadow, the witch who had held a piece of Sirius Black’s heart in her past. One who didn’t care that he was courting her—didn’t care that she could see how closely she stood or how affectionate she was being. It burned her to see, because they looked so good together; that’s what really stung, that dug deeper than her jealousy. Because they were both beautiful in a way that drew you in, that ensnared your attention and dared you to look elsewhere, knowing nothing else would ever measure up. Forcing her eyes away, her pulse raced, nausea building as she allowed the image of them together to fester.

 

Had she stolen his great love? How could she measure up to a witch that looked like she was minted from the same coin?

 

She clamped down on her emotions; she knew he could feel them. Berating herself internally when she noticed his eyebrows coming together, his mind working out the trace of the emotions she had allowed to slip through. His piercing gaze turning, she could feel it, sense that he was going to check on her.

 

Don’t. Keep smiling, keep celebrating, please.

 

Today wasn’t about her; it was his day, his birthday. She didn’t want to ruin it with her insecurities.

 

Just as he turned to look at her, another form blocked his view.

 

“Kitten! Today is a celebration—no more sitting, come dance with me.”

 

For a single moment she saw green eyes instead of hazel as James extended his hand, her heart crumbling and blooming instantly. Was it fate that Potter men always seemed to save her in small but unforgettable ways?

 

The muscles in her cheek spasmed as they fought the smile forcing its way out, failing to hold as he shimmied in order to entice her into dancing with him. The lingering melancholy dissipated as she slowly stood, her hand coming to rest in his as he pulled her into a dizzying twirl. Laughing as he pretended they were ballroom dancing as they shuffled and glided through the crowd. Music filled her ears, and warmth filled her spirit as they danced, her body swaying to the rhythm as her partner changed. Remus was slightly dazed as he twirled her in James’s place, whistling as they both saw James had stolen another Evans from the crowd—Lily’s vivacious laugh ringing as she stumbled through a modified boogey with James. Remus leaned close, his breath tickling her ear as they danced.

“You don’t have to worry; he’s only had eyes for you—the entire time I’ve known him.” He chuckled, his green eyes lazily moving to the spot she knew they would be in. They spun again; a flash of blonde and black graced her periphery.

 

“Hmm, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

 

A sandy blonde eyebrow raised. He pulled her close, bodies flush as he moved to dip her; laughter filled around them as he leaned in, his cheek nearly brushing hers. She blushed at the close contact, at the warmth slipping through his clothes.

 

“Here’s your proof.” He murmured as he pulled them both back up, a mischievous smile on his face as their dance was halted by a heavy hand landing on his shoulder.

 

“Birthday boy here—now sod off, you big mangy mutt,” Sirius teased, yet the twitching around his left eye gave away his irritation.

 

“Of course, of course, Kitten, will you be okay with this stray?” Remus questioned as he smiled and moved back. Sirius tensed at the name, his eyes raking over her, searching for any discomfort. It was soft, tinged with a hint of sadness, the smile that bloomed on her face. Her heart was lighter as it reminded her. This was her Sirius, for as long as she wanted him. He had promised her himself. She reached out, her hand taking his and gently tugging him close; his tenseness eased as a blinding smile took over his face. Her magic reached for him—they both sighed in relief as it connected.

 

“I think I’ll be fine, Mooney; this one isn’t a stray.”

 

Remus winked as he turned and offered his hand to a short brunette in the crowd; the girl blushed as she offered her name—Mary. She could see the small pinkness of the corners of his ears as he pulled her off to dance.

 

Her attention was broken as Sirius pulled her close as she moved her arms up and around his neck as they started to sway to the music. She drank in his features, the confetti in his hair that sparkled under the candlelight as they moved seamlessly together. The feeling of his strong arms around her waist steadied her as she rested her head on his chest. Listening to the heart that raced for her, smiling as she realized hers was beating just as fast, synced to the same beat.

 

She could barely feel her feet as he led her around the room; she was warm, and in his arms it felt like that summer and all the summers that had come after together.

 

“Happy Birthday, Sirius.”

Leaning up, she placed a quick kiss on his neck, smirking as she felt the slight shudder of his body.

 

“Thank you… Kitten.”

 

She smiled and held on tighter.

 

December 14th, 1974 Hogwarts

 

Snow fell lightly, covering the ground in a soft blanket of harsh white—sound devoured as it compacted higher and deeper. She shivered as she made her way deeper into the library. It was a rare moment alone; Sirius and the boys were working out an end-of-the-semester prank. Severus had shuffled off with Regulus, muttering something about dunderheads and potion failures as the youngest Black brother covered his laughs behind a well-placed sleeve. Lily had shooed her off, swarmed by fellow Ravenclaws as they furiously coordinated the end-of-term study guides. They’d shunned her on principle after she had offered her color-coordinated guide as an example; she was a bit satisfied at their combined groans as they quietly cursed and complimented her.

 

She held her book tighter against her chest as she trudged deeper into the back, coming around a tall shelf to a cozy table hidden next to a window. It had been her favorite getaway in the past. She stilled, however, when she noticed familiar blonde hair and blue eyes. Luna. Eyes watering as she studied the witch sitting at her table, she could see it, see where Luna got her otherworldly beauty and charm. The same delicate nose, the same mysterious eyes and smile that confused yet comforted you. She was humming as she sat in the chair closest to the window, hand twirling a lock as she rested her chin in her palm.

 

Hermione hesitated; she would rather not ruin her peace, but the witch turned and smiled, head nodding to the seat across from her. As if compelled, she moved to the seat, sliding in as she studied the mysterious witch.

 

“Thank you for letting me sit here.”

 

Those blue eyes caught the light reflecting off the window; they were deep and clear.

 

“I would never turn away a witch the moon held in such a high regard.” It was whimsical, the airy tone of her voice, yet it struck her with such a heavy weight. She sucked in a breath as her pulse raced, eyes shaking as she watched the witch return to looking out of the window. She fiddled with the strap of her bag. Everyone had always whispered, always teased about Luna having seer’s blood. Everything within her screamed that it was true, that the witch in front of her was filled with that sacred blood.

 

“I…I, too, hold the moon in high regard; I miss its company.”

 

The witch moved, her hand coming down from her chin as she truly looked at her; the sadness in her gaze made her blink furiously as she struggled to hold back tears. Flinching as the witch moved and took her hand into her own, entwining them together as she squeezed. Dread filled her.

 

“I’m sorry, traveler, for even under similar skies, the moon shall never appear in the same shape it had taken in your fond memories.”

 

“No…” she gasped, tugging as she tried to pull her hand away, tears falling as she tried to hide her face as the crushing reality of her words struck through her. Tried to curl away from the woman she had stolen a daughter from—from the truth that she might have taken the life of one of her dearest friends. The witch never let go; she just stood up, leaning across the table as she endeavored to console her.

 

“Shhh, love, it is alright. The moon has many faces and many shapes as it graces the night skies; it may not be the one you loved, but it will be. Just less familiar than you wished. For this is a new sky, one that has a brighter dawn.”

 

“How could you not hate me?”

 

“Shooting stars ripped from other galaxies fulfill wishes, create a beauty, and change that every other planet and every other star dreams of. A beauty that the moon prayed for. How could I ever hate something like that?” She cooed as she forced Hermione to look at her.

 

“You’ve paid, time and time again. There are others that wouldn’t hesitate to take the jump and sacrifice along with you. All I see before me is an astonishing witch I would dearly like to know.”

 

The witch wiped her tears, smiling as she stared into her eyes. The witch moved to sit down, her hand still tightly grasping hers.

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you finally, Hermione; my name is Pandora Rosier.”

 

She was trembling as she wiped the rest of the tears from her eyes. Pandora had simply smiled as she waited, looking out the window and humming a tune, one she remembered Luna humming. She felt hollowed out. Eyes burning as she continued to stare at their connected hands.

 

“I think…I think I would really love to get to know you too.” She finally squeezed back. The smile she got was achingly beautiful. Pandora finally let go, pulling a tiny parchment from her pocket and sliding it to her.

 

“Write me whatever you wish, whenever you wish. It was lovely meeting you, but our time will start later.” Pandora uttered as she moved to stand, the same whimsical smile on her face as she collected her shell-covered bag on the floor, blue eyes now hazy as they looked to the way in which she entered. Hermione blinked, confused as she watched the witch move to leave, the melodious sound of hundreds of shells clinking together as she swayed. She felt him, as soon as he entered the library, magic twisting in worry and anxious energy.

 

“You must calm Mr. Black; his wrackspurts are truly dreadful,” she chided before disappearing. Hermione sniffled as she rushed to clear her face, but that hollow feeling lingered, twisting inside of her as she fought another wave of tears.

 

Strong arms wrapped around her as she felt him slide into the seat next to her, his hands shaking as he moved to cup her cheek. His intense grey eyes drinking in her tears, her shivering body, and her slouched shoulders.

 

“Hey there, Kitten, what’s all this?” He gestured to her tears, his face crumbling as she sniffled more. He hesitated before he pulled her from her seat, easily settling her in his lap as he fretted.

 

“I’m so sorry to bother you; I know you must have been busy.” She curled further into his embrace; she wanted to hide away—didn’t want him to console her this time. She deserved it, deserved to feel hollow.

 

He tsked, holding her tighter as he fiddled with the ends of her curls.

 

“Now I’m really worried; someone must have confunded my little witch. Because she can’t possibly believe in that big, beautiful brain of hers that she could ever be a bother, especially to me.” He scolded. His words made her cry harder.

 

What did she even do to deserve this? To have this kind of care? What was the point of it all if in the end she took the lives of everyone she held dear, of everyone she fought to protect?

 

“Kitten, please, you’re going to give this dog a heart attack.” He shifted, arms loosening as he tried to convince her to look at him. She could feel his despair, his deep, curdling worry seeping into the hollow space in her chest. She didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want him to worry. So, she closed her eyes and thought deeply, dragging forth every happy memory she could. Like battling a dementor, she filled herself with all the love and hope and care she had ever experienced, hoping to fill that void, to twist it.

 

Leaning back to give him a shaky smile, she ran a hand through his hair.

 

“It’s embarrassing, but I heard a sorrowful story. One that just hit me more than I thought a story could.” She uttered as she hoped he wouldn’t question it further.

 

Sirius swallowed; his throat felt tight as his senses screamed at him. She was lying; everything within him knew it. Yet, he could force the words to pass his lips, couldn’t force himself to push her, not when she looked so miserable, not when he could feel her struggling to hide just how much it affected her. His heart was crumbling; he couldn’t stand to see her tears, to know she felt so sad. So he smiled, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on her lips, dragging his hands into her curls and guiding her down to rest on his chest—arms encircling her as if he could protect her from what tortured her.

 

“Shall I tell you a happy story instead?”

 

He gulped when he felt her little nod. Mind wracking through thousands of memories to find something, anything—there were so few that he had that didn’t include her, but he eventually found one that had filled him with joy before starting.

 

“It was summer; I had been hiding out from my grandfather—”

 

She sniffled as she listened and felt the deep vibration of his voice, soothing her as she looked out the window. Snow continued to fall, yet the wizard in her arms helped ward off the crippling cold that had seized her.

 

December 20th, 1974 Potter Manor

 

The elf moved silently, filling the discarded cups with more hot tea as the charmed clock rang out into the study. The wizards were tense as they were locked in a stalemate.

Arcturus leaned back in his chair, hiding his annoyance as Fleamont looked down at the table between them. Charlus, the bastard, was wandering around the room as he pointedly ignored the still rolled-up parchment on the table that Fleamont was avoiding. He tapped his finger on the side of his chair as he took a breath before leaning forward once more, moving to snatch the parchment off the table and unravel it himself. Ensuring it stayed flat, he laid it out on the table.

 

“I am remiss on what is preventing you from giving me your assurance that you’ll vote supporting this. Just look at what I am asking you to put your support behind.” He clenched his jaw as he noticed both Potters look to each other before Fleamont spoke.

 

“It has come to my attention that you might be trying to push anti-Muggle legislation through bills that might look harmless. Considering this is to be voted on tomorrow… Can you not understand our hesitancy when the majority of our block hasn’t even seen this bill?”

 

His finger increased in tempo, tapping more harshly against his chair.

 

“And who, may I ask, is out there spreading this?”

 

“Dumbledore.” Charlus answered in a huff as he came back to his seat near the table; he brushed his hands on his pants before moving to pick up the parchment and read it.

 

Arcturus stopped his tapping, his hands coming together to rest in his lap, his face blank as he waited for Charlus to read the bill.

 

“Wait… who… Who wrote this for you?” Charlus let out a breath as his eyes greedily read line by line. His hands were shaking once he reached the end, quickly handing it off to Fleamont before looking to Arcturus with an appreciative gaze.

 

“I’m not sure whether you’d believe me, but my future daughter-in-law, if my grandson is lucky enough to keep her affections.”

 

“Why wouldn’t you have just sent this out in the first place, Arcturus? Why the need for cloak and dagger?” Fleamont questioned as he read through the parchment.

 

“I expected opposition, while I can muster enough votes now that two seats are completely barred from voting until the investigation is complete. But I need a majority, so once those seats return, they’ll need full agreement of the Wizengamot in order to try to repeal it. Which will never happen.”

 

He leaned back again, sighing as he reached to pick up his tea.

 

“You can imagine my surprise when I send out this bill to your voting block and have a steady stream of owls returning my mail. And now, as I sit here in the study of a family I believed to be allied with, that Dumbledore of all people has been whispering poison in your ears—there is no wonder now why you have not seen this bill before today.”

 

Both wizards tensed, eyes wide in disbelief.

 

Arcturus glanced at the clock and sighed. He had nine more families to visit before the day was over. He had no more time to waste with pleasantries.

 

“Gentlemen, can I expect your vote?” He asked as he polished off his tea, moving to smooth out his robes.

 

“Yes, you’ll have the Potter vote.”

 

“Thank you for your time.” He nodded to both men, his eye twitching as he silently cursed Dumbledore as he quickly advanced to the Floo.

 

“Longbottom Estate.”

 

December 21st, 1974 Wizengamot

 

“Lord Black! Lord Black, is it true your heir is courting a Muggle-born witch?”

“Lord Black! Is it true you’ve disowned several members of your family?”

“Mr. Black—Orion Black! Are you concerned about the attacks on prominent families?”

“Lord Black! Here, sir!” reporters yelled, their voices grating on Arcturus’s nerves.

 

Hundreds of lights flashed as Arcturus made his way through the crowded atrium, Orion close by his side as they pushed through the densely packed mob.

 

“Lord Black! Is it true you were pivotal in ensuring the final supermajority vote? How do you explain the complete change from previous Black patriarchs and family voting?”

 

More flashes.

 

Moments before he reached the private apparition point, Arcturus turned to address the mob. He was temporarily blinded as he defaulted to a formal smile.

 

“The Black Family has always supported protecting magic, always accepted the will of magic. So this decision was made easily, and the majority of the Wizengamot also made such a choice. Thank you, that is all.”

 

MAGICAL ERA OF REFORM

FIRST TWO-THIRDS SUPER MAJORITY IN 100 YEARS

Article by: Norton Briggsby

Wizengamot reporter

Verified by: Herald Sinclair

Daily Prophet Lead Investigator

 

I cannot believe my eyes, nor the quill that is diligently writing this report. The Black family has led one of the first two-thirds supermajority votes in 100 years, and to boot, it was considered one of the most highly controversial bills to grace the venerable chamber floors, some court recorders claim. Yet this bill was widely unknown, the contents spelled with layers of confidentiality wards up until it was opened and read.

 

What is the significance of this?

 

Very rarely does a supermajority vote occur, bills often passing with the necessary majority of 26; this is often only obtained after numerous failures. Not only that, but a two-thirds supermajority is nearly unheard of, as our governing body, while small, holds several political and familial voting blocs. The Black family’s submitted bill gained 36 votes out of the 50 in the Wizengamot. As such, it is decreed that the bill satisfies the criteria of “Pro bono omnium.”

 

Meaning ‘for the good of all,’ to have the bill rescinded or revised, it would require the full majority to approve of the changes. Something that has never happened in the history of the Wizengamot.

 

Rights activists have been celebrating this as a victory, a monumental push forward for witches and wizards everywhere. And what exactly was this bill?

 

THE PRESERVATION OF MAGICAL BLOOD AND CULTURE

 

Although the title is startling considering the family that spearheaded the effort, the body of the bill is beautifully brilliant. It prohibits the discrimination of anyone with magical blood, meaning Muggleborns, Halfbloods, and purebloods. Allows for dormant family lines to be reclaimed by squibs as long as no magical family remains. Enshrining squib rights and setting aside funding for squibs for roles in magical integration.

 

It establishes primary schooling for any of magical blood, focusing on teaching common ancestral rituals and culture and fusing it with basic Muggle schooling for mathematics, science, biology, and literacy—it also opens funding for an advanced version at Hogwarts, expanding on the current Muggle studies course and adding a wizarding culture course that is required for graduation for future students. It provides reclassification of magical designations, meaning legally and magically speaking, to be pureblood, you no longer need at least two generations of magical grandparents but simply need both parents to have magical blood. This is monumental, as some older families that have expanded into nontraditional relationships have binding magical stipulations for inheritances. Once this bill is submitted in full, those stipulations will be met for many.

 

The most startling of all is that ALL magical blood cannot be discriminated against, meaning witches or wizards afflicted with blood curses or other magical malignancies cannot be barred from any magical institution or magical facility.

 

Are you following me? If not, I’m willing to help you. Our furry friends, witches, and wizards afflicted by lycanthropy have been stricken from the creature designation entirely, as they are simply witches and wizards now legally. The bill reappropriated funding for additional expansions and hiring necessary to accommodate these individuals.

 

This, my readers, is a date that will go down in history!

 

Hermione smiled as she read the article, her eyes moving to the parchment that was delivered just before the prophet had. It was brief, but it warmed her all the same.

 

 

Merry Christmas, Miss Evans

-Arcturus Black

 

 

December 27th, 1974 Potter Manor

 

The halls were decked in holly and mistletoe, something she expertly avoided as she made her way up the stairs. Nervousness filled her as she followed the brightly dressed elf; she had been quietly escorted away while the celebrations were had below. James had been beaming, dressed as Muggle Santa, while he showered the lot of them in horribly wrapped gifts with twinkling eyes. Sirius had nearly passed out from laughter after he learned that James had gone all in. His large gut, white hair, and beard had been charmed, its expiration ranging from a few hours to potentially a week. Remus had sputtered as he read James’s poorly written notes on what exactly had been used; she feared after reading he might need an expert to reverse it. But she kept that to herself once she saw Euphemia’s dismay.

 

She paused as she heard Mixty knock on the study doors; the soft response filled her with curiosity. Entering the study, she was filled with the soft scent of parchment, fresh grass, and something woodsy and sharp. It was Harry. Oh, how he would have cherished this, the knowledge that he shared something so personal with his family, another connection, another piece of a puzzle he had never had the chance to be a part of.

 

“Miss Evans, thank you for coming.” Fleamont bellowed as he moved to pour himself and Charlus a drink. She smiled as she twirled the new bracelet on her wrist—a Christmas gift from Sirius, a charmed bracelet that matched the necklace he had given her. It filled her with the cool flush of his magic, soothing her nerves as she responded.

 

“Thank you for having me, although I’m curious what this might be about.” She turned, eyes cataloging all the art and family portraits on the walls. It was a myriad of familiar faces, of familiar smiles and wild hair.

 

“Well, I won’t beat around the bush.” Charlus grunted as he sipped on his firewhisky, eyes slightly glazed as he stared into the fire.

 

“We know of your involvement in the recent legislation; by we, I mean the order. However, I imposed on my darling brother here after I learned you’d be coming to celebrate. There is a delicate matter I wished to discuss.” He took another sip.

 

“Why have you cut connections with the order? After every—” He choked, his face turning red as he wheezed. She turned to look at him, eyes narrowing as her wrist began to burn.

 

“Merlin, Charlus, are you good? Did the Firewhiskey go down wrong?” Fleamont fretted as he moved to slap Charlus on the back. She waited until he stopped, waited until his color returned to normal. The fool had nearly triggered the bond.

 

“What do you mean cut connections with the order? I have done no such thing,” she hissed, magic crackling as she tempered her anger.

 

Fleamont looked confused, eyes bouncing from hers to his brother’s; they seemed to communicate silently.

“We were told that you had been refusing to work with the order. Dumbledore said you couldn’t handle the pressure of the task, and it now fell on the rest.” Charlus uttered as he waved a hand to Fleamont. Signaling for him to move back as he caught his breath. All the anger fled from her system. Of course.

 

Hermione sighed, weariness settling in her bones. Dumbledore was dead set on removing her from the board. She moved, coming to sit down at the seat across from Charlus; she quickly conjured a glass cup and wandlessly accioed the firewhiskey from the drink stand. Both men blinked in surprise when she poured herself a shot and then chugged it down. wincing as it burned all the way down. She bit back the desire to cough as she set the glass down on the table harshly; she reached for her pocket. Both men eyed her warily as she pulled out a folded parchment. She handed it to Fleamont, who was equally impressed and disappointed in her.

 

“Um, that was, impressive for a young witch, but now I’m a bit worried about what you all are getting into at school.” Fleamont mumbled as he read the paper.

 

“Thank you? I assure you, this was the first time I’ve done that specifically. The seriousness of the matter—well, I figured it couldn’t hurt.” She looked up to Charlus; the stoic wizard was merely observing her.

 

“I have and always will be an ally of the order. Whether Dumbledore wants me to be or not.” She let out a sigh as she leaned further into her seat; Charlus caught the implication instantly, his face hardening.

 

“Darling, why did you give me a recipe for Dragon Pox?” Fleamont questioned, thoroughly confused at the direction the conversation was going.

 

She got up from her seat, coming around the table as she squeezed Charlus’s shoulder.

“It’s something I would like the Potter family to brew. It’s a variation on the current Dragon Pox, something that will help with stronger viral strains.”

 

“What about the Princes? They are better equipped to handle potions with larger distributions like Dragon Pox.” Charlus inquired. He tensed as she dug her nails into his shoulder, squeezing as tight as she could.

 

“I would rather not overburden the Princes, as they’ve been working extensively on the Wolfsbane potion. I have seen—many articles about the Potter’s brewing capabilities and instantly thought that this would be a perfect fit. Something… almost necessary. Would you mind helping me with this? Money is no concern of mine.”

 

Charlus paled, his hand tightly gripping his glass as her words sunk in.

 

He grunted, eyes shifting to his brother.

 

“This would be a great opportunity, brother; you’ve mentioned how you wanted to expand,” he rushed to convince his brother, his voice nearly breathless as he pushed.

 

Fleamont flipped the recipe in his hand back and forth, his mind calculating the logistics, unaware of his brother’s nervous form.

 

“Well, this is brilliant. If you’re certain you want to work with me, then yes. I’d love to work on this with you. I’ll get everything together, and we can talk about it after the holidays.”

 

She could feel the moment Charlus relaxed in his seat, the moment his magic seemed to sigh and flood him with relief; she removed her hand, slowly walking over to the corner of the study. A large single portrait hung; his face was one she knew, one she could pull out of a crowd no matter how large or small. Running her hand over the nameplate: Henry Potter. Harry’s namesake.

 

She stared into the flickering gold, the name etching itself into her mind.

 

“Does Dumbledore know about the cloak?”

Chapter 41: The Show Must Go On

Summary:

One must not neglect invasive weeds, or else they'll suffocate their garden.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

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“Jealousy in romance is like salt in food. A little can enhance the savour, but too much can spoil the pleasure and, under certain circumstances, can be life-threatening.”– Maya Angelou

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Jan 3rd, 1975 Hogwarts Express

 

The train rocked as it headed into the curve; the gentle sway barely moved her as she flipped through the pages of her book, one heavily glamoured. Sirius had barely mentioned a thing when he had handed it over; his mother had simply smiled when she oversaw the exchange. She had laughed at the time, since it would be a book Walburga was proud of sharing. Secrets of the Darkest Arts was a fascinating read—it was just as gripping and morbid as it was the first time she had read it in the dead of winter on the hunt. The section she was currently absorbed in detailed the steps for learning and mastering fiendfyre.

 

It was something she felt she needed to learn far more than anything else, with her turbulent relationship with Dumbledore, the wizard who unfortunately held onto the majority of the basilisk fangs—this was now a necessity out of extra precaution. She didn’t think he would become that petty. Yet after her talk with the Potters, one where she cautioned against allowing him access to or knowledge of the cloak. She couldn’t predict what he might do in retaliation. He had already set out to cut her off after denying him one Deathly Hallow; who knew what would happen when he learned she had ruined his years of meticulous bonding. Through the anxiety of her ever-shifting thoughts, there was one constant—she smiled down at Sirius’s angelic face in her lap, her hand running through his hair. He was pretending to sleep, his mouth twitching every so often in a smile when he felt the bracelet he had given her tickle his face.

 

As she moved to flip to the next page, the door of their compartment opened, loud laughter filling in the space as a bright blonde hair caught her eye. Her hands tightened on her book as she watched Marlene invade the compartment, watched as her stormy blue eyes greedily trailed over Sirius’s form before turning to acknowledge Remus and James. Strike one.

 

“Heya, mind if I join you? The other compartments are full.”

 

Remus’s nose twitched; it crumpled a bit before he turned to look at her. She narrowed her eyes at the blonde. So she wasn’t above lying, it seemed. Strike two.

 

She started to occlude, her hands tightening on the glamoured book as Sirius grunted in annoyance at having to move from her lap and sit up, shifting to move closer to her as Marlene moved to sit on his other side.

 

“Thanks, I would rather not have to keep looking—how was your guys’ break?” Marlene smiled as she settled in next to Sirius, eyes triumphant as she quickly leaned to brush her shoulder against his. Strike three.

 

“It was great, Marls. I got to dress up as the Muggle Santa; I actually miss the beard at this point.” James quipped back, completely oblivious to the mounting tension in the compartment.

She laughed loudly, her head tilting back as she smiled at James. Every move, every voice was manufactured: a coy look to the side, a minute shift as she pushed her chest out, the tilting angle of her head as she gracefully swept back her hair.

 

“What about you, Remus?” She asked as she moved to pull out a mirror and tube of lipstick from her bag. Leaning back against the seat as she flipped it open and started to apply a light pink shade to her pouting lips.

 

“Uh, excellent. Same old, same old.” Remus muttered, eyes now focused on the book in his lap. His foot had begun to lightly tap against the floor.

 

It was a grounding sound, the tapping; it certainly helped keep her distracted from the growing feeling of rage simmering in her blood. She smiled viciously at the contents of the new chapter—it held an in-depth guide to multiple disfiguring curses.

 

“And what about you, Mister Black?” she purred out, her voice sugary sweet as she leaned once again into Sirius’s shoulder, her hand coming up to lightly touch his forearm. Strike four.

 

Perhaps fiendfyre was the best application in this case, her mind hissed as she tried to calm herself, occluding further. Stop it, Hermione. You’re acting absolutely barmy. There’s nothing to worry about.

 

Sirius just grunted, sneering at the hand on his forearm, something that made her smile slightly. He was indifferent as he tried to make space between them.

 

“It was fine.” His voice was short and curt. Perhaps I should snog him in the train bathroom? Hermione mused that the thought looked better and better as she watched the interactions between Marlene and Sirius. But it didn’t deter Marlene; she just smiled, eyes twinkling as she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse.

 

“You guys don’t mind, do you?” she asked as she moved from her spot to maneuver her way to the seat directly in front of Hermione. Remus grunted in displeasure as he slid over, giving her a wide berth as his eyes continued to glance between her and Marlene. The blonde shuffled for a moment, cracking the compartment window open. The cool chill of the wind entered, ruffling the pages of the book she was reading. It was annoying enough that she slowly closed the book, her face blank as she moved to place it back into her bag. She had hoped she would get to know Marlene; now she hoped she would remove herself from her presence posthaste.

 

The sharp sound of a lighter being flicked caught her attention as Marlene lit her cigarette, smiling as she eyed Sirius and blowing smoke out of the cracked window. Hermione scrunched her nose; the smell was acrid and bitter. Strike five.

 

“Want one?”

 

“No thanks,” Sirius huffed, his eyes narrowing before he looked to Hermione, concerned at how tense she was. He nudged her leg with his knee; the blankness on her face morphed into a sweet smile—she patted her lap in response to his silent request. He gave her a blinding smile before returning to lay his head in her lap, pouting until she returned one of her hands to his hair. His large arms crossed to rest on his chest as he sprawled out once more. Hermione caught the grimace, the small spark of anger on the blonde’s face as she watched.

 

“So, what about you, Miss Swot? How was your break?” Marlene giggled as she watched them both, yet her tone reeked of condescension, her eyes shining brightly with jealousy when they fell on the glittering jewelry on her wrist and neck. Strike six.

 

“It was illuminating.” She responded back, eyes focusing on Sirius’s face before turning back to look at Marlene. Her head tilted as she calculated whether or not it would be worth it to vanish the smirk off her face permanently.

 

Jan 30th, 1975, Hogwarts

 

“Merlin and Morganna, did you see Black at that last practice? A petite Slytherin girl whispered as she moved to fix a honey brown curl that was not cooperating. The mirror was trying to direct her the best it could, but the girl ignored it, sneering at the face behind the glass.

“Ugh… How could I not? You could see those arms for miles, I swear. If he wasn’t a blood traitor, I’d be begging Daddy to send them a marriage proposal.” The other Slytherin girl tutted, moving to help the other, lips pursed as she focused on wrangling her housemate’s hair just right. Their conversation came to an abrupt stop, both girls eyeing the mousy Ravenclaw who emerged from a stall to wash her hands in the sink. The Ravenclaw tried smiling at the two, but the frosty reception hastened her leave. Ensuring that the other girl had left, they continued.

 

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be marriage… blood traitors can be good for other things.” The first gossiped as she smiled, eyes twinkling as the other laughed.

“This is Black we are talking about; he’s glued to his little mudblood puff. I doubt he’d even spare a glance anyone else’s way.” The second pouted as she finished up, moving to work on her hair as the mirror praised her efforts.

 

“It’s a shame, really. He’s… Merlin, he’s fit. And rich. I’d certainly help him polish his wand.”

 

“I don’t know, word’s out that they’ve seen Black hanging around that pureblood girl—McKinnon—an awful lot. You know how courting goes… It doesn’t always mean things aren’t up for a bit of exploration.”

 

Suddenly the lights in the bathroom flickered as small balls of blue flames materialized, rapidly growing and expanding. Both girls screamed as they rushed to grab their bags, the bathroom seeming to go up in wild blue flames—flames that shot out, covering the walls and roof with hellish speed, branching out like thin, clawed fingers as it swallowed the entire room, bathing it in an eerie blue tint. They bolted, screaming as they ran into the hallway, their cries echoing as the door swung back and forth. There was a click from the latch of a stall, magic crackling, blending in with the sounds of the ominous fire as the figure walked confidently out and to the bathroom sinks.

 

Hermione was fuming as she played with the blue bell flames that danced along the counter, ones that horrified the entities trapped within the enchanted mirrors; she smiled as they continued to scream in terror, banging on the walls of the frame as they flickered in and out of view. Eyes glowing as she decided to end the illusion. The blue flames trembled as they slowly receded and condensed, wrapping together like bands of flaming whips twisting and curling tightly into one small, volatile flame that danced in the center of her palm. She closed her hand into a tight fist, snuffing out the magical fire as she turned on the taps. She clenched her jaw tightly as she harshly washed her hands in the silence of the bathroom.

 

Eyes flicking to her agitated appearance in the mirror, hair wild and still crackling, she took a deep breath and fixed the smudged gloss on her lips before occluding. Her need to suppress her anger, to bury it deeper and further, was becoming more and more necessary as this year progressed. She liked things in a certain order, and she liked following most rules—as long as they weren’t bad. The one rule, spoken or unspoken, that was known by every witch was that you didn’t mess around with another witch’s wizard. Her pupils shrunk, eyes darkening as she tapped her finger on the stone counter. Perhaps this era was too soft. Perhaps she had played the meek but sharp witch a bit too well. Those closest to her knew, of course, not to truly mess with her.

 

The students who had seen Avery’s incident made sure others knew she would protect those she considered hers, but it had fallen into speculation that she had simply purchased the bracelet, not actually spelling it herself. As for the pins, those lovely little pieces of magic, well, the credit fell entirely to Sirius, not that she minded. These sweet little summer children, laughing and playing with things they ought not to.

 

She took one look at her appearance, smoothing down the harsh edges as she plastered a soft smile on her face. Reminding herself once more that there was a reason for her meekness, a reason for her restraint—she could not be too enticing, too excellent, or she’d garner the attention of a predator much too large to handle at this time.

 

She wondered, though, if they ever considered how lucky they really were.

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

Her fingers trailed over the thousands of hardbacks in the towering library around her, four stories of wizarding history wrapped between sturdy oak shelves. Candles floated as they cast their soft glow, light raining down onto the elaborately designed French accents. The soft notes of classical music played as she delved deeper into the maze-like room. She looked over her shoulder, moving slowly as she smiled, the soft fabric of her dress caressing her legs. Her magic, coy as it reached out, tickled across his exposed skin, leaving traces for him to follow. There, a flash of black as Sirius trailed behind her. The chase was on, less hurried, less frantic, but no less pleasurable as she moved stealthily further and further away from the group who had come to celebrate her birthday. Her scent and sounds muffled and silenced as she continued, her fingers relishing the soft leather, the varying textures, and the flashes of magic each book contained. Her eyes were nearly black as she taunted him, teased him, and excited him. She felt the pressure building, the sweet euphoria of his volatile magic as it reached, as it desperately clawed at hers—she knew, the moment he broke, nearly purring in delight as she felt his strong hands wrap around her arms, spinning her as he backed her up against the shelf behind her. Her heart was beating furiously in her chest as she melted into his embrace.

 

She moaned in delight when those strong arms moved, sliding along her waist, down lower as he moved to lift her, his hands just as greedy as they pressed against her bare skin. Wrapping her legs around his waist as he pressed his broad chest flush with hers, his heart beating just as violently—her dress sliding back, exposing her legs to the cool chill of the room. Her blood was burning as she looked into his black eyes, as she devoured his heavy breaths, and the slight sweat across his brow as he leaned in and captured her mouth.

 

Every part of her felt tight, felt warm as they kissed, her hands moved to his shoulders, squeezing and pulling him closer as she lightly nipped his lips, her nipples hard as she felt them brush against his chest. The moan he let out shot through her, filling her with a wet, aching feeling as she ground against him, finally burying her hands into his hair. He moved so desperately as he trailed kisses from her lips to her cheek, nudging her chin as he moved to place feather-light kisses in a trail up her neck. Each place he touched was burning, each grunt filled her mind with ecstasy as she felt him trembling against her. She felt his magic invading hers, caressing hers as she clenched her legs tighter.

 

She hated her mind in that moment, for when she moved to lick a path up his thick neck, she caught it. The tiny glint of blonde. A strand of hair mixed with his, taunting her in the candlelight. It filled her with rage. Strike seven. Her pulse raced as her nips turned into bites, as her nails dug into his shoulders instead of the light caresses they had been. His loud moan only fueled her further as she pressed down on the large ridge in his pants. His cock twitching violently, rubbing against her just right. Smirking as she felt his knees nearly collapse, she felt his panting in her ear as he pleaded with her to slow down. She closed her eyes as she moaned, breathless and needy, continuing to grind against him, chasing that tight building pressure, relishing in the rough texture of his pants against her clit—that divine pleasure that surged through her as she yanked hard on his hair, pulling his face back—she wanted to see. Devouring his tortured expression as she shifted her hips faster.

 

“Look at me.”

 

His eyes snapped open, black, black, black, and hazed as his will crumbled, his hand tightening on her hips, bruising her with the force of his desire. Adding to her pleasure, he couldn’t help but move against her. Couldn’t help but curse as pleasure ripped through them. She felt it building; more, she needed more as she moved faster, as she swallowed his pleas, kissing him deeply as every nerve in her body seared. The tight coil in her stomach snapped, bearing down as pleasure overwhelmed her. She bit down on his lip as she let out a deep, guttural moan, her hips shaking as she rocked in short, hard strokes. He was trying to suck in air as she let go, his body shaking as he chased her high, biting his lips as his hips thrust against her, jolting her body with his force. Sending waves of pleasure as he prolonged her high. Her mind seared the image of his bulging veins and breathless begging as he came apart.

 

He held her tightly as he slid down to the floor, both of their bodies trembling and exhausted as they peppered each other with sweet, lazy kisses. She pulled it—that single offensive blond strand from his hair, flicking it away, and smiling in satisfaction as it burned in the air. Incinerated instantly by her fire.

 

“Fuck, princess… that was…”

She smiled as she pushed back his sweaty hair and wiped the bit of blood from his lips. The way he looked at her, his blissful adoration radiating, this magic content and clinging to her filled her heart.

 

“Happy birthday to me.” She purred.

 

He couldn’t help but smile as he pulled her tighter, groaning as he shifted to a more comfortable position on the floor. His head came to rest on her shoulder. She nuzzled her face into his silky strands, eyes roaming over his muscular form. She couldn’t help the intense satisfaction as she breathed deeply—he was covered in her scent.

 

One thought bouncing through the hazy pleasure.

 

Mine.

 

 

Jan 31st, 1975 Hogwarts

 

Time stretched as the faceless mob weaved around his form, parting like the sea as he made his way to his next class. He could no longer see, no longer separate the details on their faces, only blurred masses covered in house colors. He was ruined. Perfectly, utterly devastated. His heart was racing, his blood was singing as his face ached—he had not stopped smiling, could not stop his complete happiness from blooming for the world to see.

 

Look at me.

 

It echoed, rattling round in his brain as he relived the pleasure, relived the desperate motions of her soft, quivering thighs in his hands. How she sounded, how she smelled, and how her perfect cunt drove him mad. Oh, he had seen, he had looked, and it was divine.

 

How was he supposed to go on?

 

Ruined and divinely blessed, a cursed life he’d have to live just so he could experience that euphoria again. Once more, she had expanded his world, yet chained him to her side tighter than before—she had blessed him. He was desperate for another chance, another taste; maybe next time she would wrap those glorious thighs around his face. Let him run his hands and tongue across her body. He cursed, shuffling to pull his robes closed; he was hard again; just the hint of what next time could hold had strangled his mind.

 

He had never had an issue waiting, always holding back until she felt comfortable, always leaking and desperate every time she put her hands on him now, every time she allowed him to kiss her. It was fine; he could take care of himself like he always did… But now he knew.

 

He had felt her body come as she rubbed her perfect cunt on his straining cock, heard her moans ensnare his mind, and felt her pleasure through the bond—her satisfaction and desire to possess him just as wildly as he felt. He needed more. He would pray for more.

 

Blinking rapidly as he failed to understand the words coming from the blurred forms next to him, he saw her, shining brightly at the end of the hall. His goddess, smiling as she waited, skin flushed and supple, her wild curls more defiant than ever as her delectable pink lips opened to grace him with her lovely voice.

 

“Sirius, I’ve been waiting for you.”

 

It was as if she had yelled; only her voice made it through the jumbled chaos she had reduced him to. He rushed to greet her, scooping her up as he smiled, soaking in every detail of her face. How his heart ached as it watched her blush as she shyly tried to hide her face in his chest as he moved to kiss her forehead. His eyes were rolling in pleasure before he closed them as he breathed in her scent. She was just as happy to see him as he was.

 

Merlin, he didn’t think he’d survive without her now.

 

February 14th, 1975 Hogwarts

 

Hogwarts was shaded in a hazy green tint; it smothered the other vibrant colors as she walked through the halls, her ears capturing snippets of excited conversation. She was more attuned to their words now, to their looks as she walked alone to the great hall.

 

“Have you heard about—”

“No, I swear that’s the one..”

 

She forced her face to remain neutral as she marched forward; however, the twitching of her right eye was starting to give her a headache. There was an itch she was starting to feel, a desperate itch to draw her wand.

 

“I’m not sure what he sees in her—”

“Well, she is pretty…”

 

Meek and soft. Meek and soft.

 

Hogwarts affection and esteem was like the tide; it rose and receded just as fast—now the tide was low. Marlene had increased her efforts, trailing behind Sirius like a leech; it didn’t help that she was a reserve chaser on the Gryffindor quidditch team, nor that they shared the same house, which meant they shared the same classes. Everywhere Sirius was, she too was waiting in the shadows. It did help that Sirius paid her no mind, never spoke of her, and never gave her any indication that there was any bit of interest. But it was the principle of the matter. Marlene knew he was taken and pursued him anyway. Marlene thought she could step all over her, invade her space, and take liberties with HER wizard.

 

Perhaps she should channel Ginny and just bat-bogey hex her until she got the message or channel the raging bitch Pansy could be and simply snatch her by the hair. That thought made her pause; she did feel tremendously better after she had punched Draco in the face. She giggled before making her way into the great hall. Her mood instantly soured; she gritted her teeth at the sight that welcomed her, instinctively blocking her emotions from making their way through the pack bond. It was as if the witch intended to act foolishly to maximize her anger. There Marlene was, wrapping her hands around his shoulders as she leaned in, handing him a small chocolate before laughing as he pushed her off and tossed the chocolate she had given him. Their eyes met. The little lion dared to smirk as she sauntered off—there, in the eyes of the majority of the school, she had dared to antagonize her. Strike Eight.

 

Faking the smile on her face, she ignored Sirius’s narrowed eyes as she walked up, slipping into the seat beside him. Her mind was racing as she watched the ever-growing pile of love letters landing on Sirius’s plate.

 

“Kitten, are you alright?” Sirius whispered as he vanished the letters, moving to wrap his arm around her as he conjured a purple flower—a heliotrope. Gently placing it in her hair before moving to fill her plate. Her heart stuttered. Her sweet, sweet wizard.

 

March 5th, 1975 Hogwarts

 

Shaded beneath a towering oak, the sun peeked through the branches as it bathed the souls who sought refuge below in a light warmth. Leaves fell, twirling about as the soft wind moved through its winding canopy. She hummed as she read, Sirius snored softly in her lap as she drew mysterious patterns into the soft skin of his open shirt. James and Remus were spread out on the quilt next to them, fighting the desire to sleep as they munched on the pastries she had packed. The elves had nearly swamped her in gifts when she mentioned if they’d be willing to make some snacks for a picnic. Amy and Beth were further off as they chatted next to the lake; they’d check in periodically, mostly to pester Remus into sneaking them a treat from James’s tight control as de facto pastry distributor. Severus was dozing off against the tree next to them, the book she had enticed him with open in his lap—she had sent a silent sticking charm to his pages, saving his spot as the wind tried to move them. Lily was next to him, carefully flipping through a Muggle magazine with Regulus, softly explaining to the best of her knowledge how rugby worked. Regulus was enchanted, eyes wide and sparkling as he drank in the images she showed him.

 

Hermione smirked when she noticed the way James would occasionally glance over, eyes falling on her sister before they quickly moved back to Remus. His ears tinged pink as he lazily explained the next prank he had in mind. Remus, darling Remus, only smirked, sharing a glance with her as if to ask, You see it too?

 

For once she had all of them together, safe and warm—it was an indescribable happiness that filled her. This was all she wanted: little moments with her favorite people, unburdened by war.

 

But like all things, it was short-lived, ruined by the aggravating noise of a familiar giggle.

 

She clenched her jaw as a shadow fell across her book. She looked up to see the brazen smile of Marlene and her friend, some Ravenclaw named Alissa. Her blue eyes dared to soak in the pale skin on Sirius’s chest before raking down the rest of his form. Strike nine. She moved to slowly rebutton his shirt; he grumbled as he repositioned himself in her lap, his arm coming to wrap around her waist as he buried his face into her hip. It sent a sharp thrill through her as he rubbed his nose in the crease of her hip and thigh.

 

“Mind if we join you?”

“Yeah, you guys look so cozy out here.”

 

She looked to Lily, their eyes meeting instantly. Lily blinked once, mind quick on the uptake as a scowl crossed her face; she refused to answer them. Beth and Amy, noticing the interlopers, jumped up from their spot near the lake, their concern clear on their faces as they moved to sit closer to James and Remus. They, too, refused to answer the witches.

 

“Uh, sure, if you like.” James chirped, once again completely oblivious to the silent conversations being had around them. Remus let out a soft groan, his lips turning into a light frown as his expression tried to impress on Hermione how sorry he was. Amy stealthily kicked his foot while Marlene and Alissa sat down. Hermione bit her tongue.

 

Marlene had chosen to sit down right beside her. RIGHT BESIDE HER.

 

Slowly the light fled as a cloud covered up the sun—there was a tight feeling in her chest, a prickling unease that made her want to turn and dig her nails into flesh. The book in her hands was forgotten as her eyes clocked what Marlene thought was a covert move. As she shifted in her seat, she swung her hand out wide; the tips of her fingers brushed against a few strands of Sirius’s hair before it settled in the grass between them. Strike Ten.

 

March 8th, 1975 Hogwarts

 

Sirius’s heart was pounding in exhilaration as he sped to the ground on his broom, the loud cheers of the Gryffindor stands booming in his ears, vibrating in his blood as James joined him at his side. They had won the very first game they had been able to play—they had dominated the skies, beating Ravenclaw 260 to 50; it was a monumental win. Yet through the excitement his eyes searched for her, his witch.

 

His breath caught as he found her. She was sitting alone in the Gryffindor section, her delectable pale legs were crossed, and her skirt was swallowed by a familiar jersey, much too large for her slender frame. His brain melted as it gave the illusion that the shirt was all she was wearing. Her bare shoulder peeking out beneath her wild, unbound auburn curls. Sitting like a queen overlooking her court, her eyes locked onto his as he landed. The surrounding faces began to blur; all he could see was her. Then he felt it; it was gentle at first, his whole body shivering as if her hands were running up his chest. He could feel his cock begin to twitch; at the next tug, it was firm and unyielding, his mind consumed by the need to go to her.

 

He needed to go to her—now.

 

Ignoring the sounds of confusion around him, he pushed through the crowd; they parted as they watched him rush into the stands, climbing the stairs as he desperately made his way to her. His chest felt like it was spilling open, flooding him with her desire, her need for him.

 

Hermione had decided she had had enough. It was time to make sure everyone knew who Sirius belonged to. That morning she had taken her time, dressing in a way she knew he would love, shooing away her friends as she decided to sit in the stands alone. Her blood was burning as she smiled when he took to the air. Laughing when he decided to show off and appreciating the power he exuded as he knocked Ravenclaw after Ravenclaw from the sky.

 

The bond between them was a beautiful thing, but she had been intrigued. Dedicating time to figuring out exactly what it could do. And so, when Gryffindor won in a spectacular victory, she waited. Once again she was filled with the memories of Ron and Lavender as she watched Marlene land her broom, smiling as she walked over to Sirius with the clear intention of touching what wasn’t hers. She reached deep, magic expanding as she plucked the bond between them. Smiling when she noticed Sirius change, warmth filled her as she pulled hard. She breathed deeply as her pupils expanded as she watched the desperation on his face as he climbed the stands, shifting in her seat to alleviate the pulsing between her thighs as she allowed his emotions to fill her. He was starving, and so was she.

 

He was panting when he reached her; she lazily trailed her eyes across his Quidditch uniform before uttering her command.

 

“Kneel.”

 

He fell before her instantly, trembling as he looked into her eyes, his hands clenching at his side; she burned. Her hand came up to cup his cheeks, gently tilting his head as she lowered hers. Pausing right before she kissed him, she whispered.

 

“Good boy.”

 

She devoured his whimper, kissing him thoroughly as the crowds in the stands and below whistled and catcalled. Her eyes opened as she tilted his face, moving slowly to the side as she found Marlene in the crowd below. She held her gaze for a second before closing them. Her mind melted with his touch, with his taste, as she reveled in her victory.

 

She pulled back, breathing fast as she took in the dazzling smile on his face; she couldn’t help but return one of her own. Moving slowly as she stood, she pulled him up by the hand. Steadying herself, she ignored the cheers and jeers from the crowd as she pulled him along. His mind was gone as his gaze never left her form.

 

The crowd parted, the message received as hundreds of eyes finally understood exactly who he belonged to.

Notes:

🙈

Chapter 42: Rock the Boat

Summary:

Nurturing flowers allows their roots to grow and dig deep; this helps them survive in times of harsh weather.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

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“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”― Marcel Proust

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March 8th, 1975 Hogwarts

 

There were times in a person’s life that stood out, some more than most, memories etched forever at the forefront of their mind—moments that filled them with sensations that lingered, that changed the entirety of their existence. Sirius could hardly focus on the world around them, yet each detail, each atom of her, shone brightly under his gaze. How those little streaks of red and gold blended with her auburn curls, yet peeked out, catching the light—catching his eye. The way his fingertips tingled with the smoothness of her skin, the heat of her palm as it pressed against his, and the way she led him—pulled him behind her. The darkness of the letters on the back of his jersey, the ones that spelled HIS name. Branded across her back, exposing his claim on her with each swish of her curls. That had taken his breath away. He couldn’t help but smile each time she shyly peeked over her exposed shoulder to check if he was still there.

 

As if he would ever choose to be anywhere else.

 

It drove him mad. Blissfully mad.

 

He could still feel her lips upon his, taste her on the tip of his tongue. His cheeks still teased him with the strength of her grip as she claimed him in front of the majority of the school.

 

She had claimed him.

 

He didn’t know what this pain was in his chest, only that it made him want to drop to his knees and beg for more, that it created a twisting feeling in his gut that made him want to scream in joy. He wanted to hold her tight, to meld them so tightly together, to bend them so thoroughly no one would ever mistake their connection.

 

She had claimed him.

 

Hermione turned, her pink lips curved into a smirk as she trailed her eyes over his form; he could feel it, the sensation of their path, feel it in his flesh, in his bones and soul. Branding him with the heat of her attention. Slowly she backed into the small alcove; she didn’t have to pull him this time, his body rushed to connect with hers, to end the torment he was feeling.

 

He slid into her embrace as he moved to lift her, his eye catching the small ledge jutting from the wall as he rested her on top of it. Groaning as he ran his hands across the silky smooth skin of her legs, moving to wrap them around his waist. He clenched his jaw at the sensation, the divine pressure against his sides.

 

She had claimed him.

 

He buried his face into her neck, breathing in her scent deeply as his pulse raced. His eyes rolled as she let out a soft whimper, tilting her head to allow him more access. That feeling was back again, that pain in his chest—indefinable and spreading like wildfire. His eyes teared as he sniffled, trying to hold back the wave of unknown feelings. Trying not to be crushed under the sudden swell.

 

He pulled her tighter, trying to hide it, trying not to ruin the moment between them. But he was only a man, and so it consumed him.

 

Hermione paused, eyes snapping open as she felt a slight wetness on her skin, then the soft sniffle as Sirius pulled her tighter against him. Her mind was fuzzy, filled with warmth, with love and desire, and with desperation. A chaotic blend of their emotions that filled her, breathing life into every piece of her. When she felt the slight shuddering of his body, she gently pried him away, her hands dropping from his shoulders to cup his face and pull it into her view. She furrowed her brows as she noticed his nose was slightly red and that his lovely eyes were glassy as he blinked them rapidly—as if he was trying to hide his tears from her. Worry filled her.

 

“Sirius.” He tried to hide his face again, but she tightened her hold.

“Hey, love, what’s wrong?” She was getting more worried as he looked away, yet his grip on her never lessened, only tightened. She welcomed the pressure.

“Fuck,” he coughed out, his body still trembling as a fresh tear escaped. She was entranced as she watched it glide down his pale skin.

 

“Sirius, please, tell me what’s going on.” She whispered, one hand moving from his face back to his shoulder, tracing soothing patterns as she coaxed him to speak. There was nothing that jumped out; her magic was full and content, his just the same, brimming with warmth. Before her mind could turn to the worst, he spoke. His voice ensnaring her, it was filled with a soft breathlessness she had never heard from him.

 

“You chose me. Fuck, you really chose me.” He rushed out as more tears fell. He licked his lips, one of his hands coming up to wipe away his tears. His body pushed forward to compensate, to ensure she didn’t fall as he confessed. A memory of her birthday long ago flashed in his mind as he tried to work out why this was happening. She had asked, and as much as he just wanted to hide away in her arms, he forced himself to speak.

 

“I.. I think these are happy tears. Fuck, princess, I’m just so happy.” His lips were quivering as a wobbly smile appeared.

 

“It has always been you. From the moment I ever realized I could want someone—it’ll always be you, love.” He brushed a curl that was falling into her face behind her ear as he drank in her features.

 

“I just—this is the first time it really hit me—that you chose me too.” He panicked as he noticed the tears forming in her golden eyes.

 

“Oh, Sirius.” She blinked away her tears as she leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. To reassure him—to love him. She pulled him close, wrapping him in a tight hug.

 

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone else, Sirius, never felt so connected, like it was natural to be right beside you. To kiss you, to hold you, to share pieces of myself with you.” She whispered, her heart tightening as she rubbed her face into his silky locks. No one compared to him, in this life or the last, and it filled her with such longing.

 

“Like you’re just another piece of myself, a much more handsome piece.” He chuckled through his sniffles as he nuzzled into her.

 

“I’m sorry.”

“Wait, what?” He moved to pull back, but she held him tighter, trying to convey her love, to show him the depth of the feelings she held even if she couldn’t say the word just yet. There were others that could hold its place.

 

“I’m sorry, it’s all felt so natural that I forgot. You might know me, you might see me like no one else has, but you are still a man, still someone separate from me. And you deserve to hear it often, deserve to know without guessing how I feel about you.”

 

She slowly pulled back, eyes shining with tears as he moved to look at her again.

 

“I chose you, Sirius; I’ll always choose you. Because I want you more than anything I’ve ever desired.”

 

“Fuck, princess, go easy on me. My heart can only take so much.” He groaned out before a dazzling smile filled his face, before his magic flooded her in an intoxicating wave of happiness. She giggled, peppering his face in kisses as he buried his hands into her hair. He returned fire, peppering her face, daring to lick her tears as she squealed, eyes sparkling under the waning light of the sun. His body had finally stopped trembling; that aching, twisting feeling was still there, still pressing down on him, but now he had an idea of what it was.

 

“Hmm, handsome, you say… So, will you choose me if I become ugly?” He teased as he rubbed the back of her neck before he moved to set her down on her feet.

 

“Of course, you… You said it’ll always be me, but what if I…talk too much? Will you still choose me?” She quipped back, hands coming to rest on his sides.

 

“Undoubtedly, I’m one hundred percent pure-blooded, don’t you know? These ears were designed to listen intently and without pause. So chatter away.” He uttered as he caressed her face.

“Oh, of course, I’ve heard all about it. What if… I become too bossy?” She added, eyes lowered as she rolled his Quidditch robe between her fingers. He leaned in, his lips caressing her ear.

 

“You said it yourself, I’m a good boy.” She blushed, a shudder flowing through her as she savored the low timbre of his voice, the brush of his breath across her skin. The heat between them reignited. Her blush returned as his piercing eyes connected with hers. As he leaned in, her eyes fluttered closed in anticipation.

 

“Mmm, will you still choose me… if I go mad like the rest of my family?” He whispered as he pressed another kiss to her lips, this time deeper, harder than the last. She kissed back, smiling into his lips before answering.

 

“Always… I think I find your madness especially attractive.”

 

April 21st, 1975 Hogwarts

 

The glint of the light reflecting off the stained glass windows bathed the Slytherin common room in an eerie bluish-green glow; pockets of darkness grew and shrank as the creatures within the Black Lake drifted in and out of focus. There was another type of glint; it reflected off the eyes of pureblood students, filled with nervousness, with fear and trepidation. Their jerky movements and compulsive shuffling of their robes filled Severus’s attention. Gazes no longer filled with contempt and malice, but apprehension—worry. It was intoxicating, the power of fear and understanding. Slowly the knowledge of what it truly meant to be unprotected in the belly of a magical school dawned on the privileged. It dawned on them as they heard the screams of their fellow students as they rose gasping at night, tortured by nightmares. Nightmares that always developed once they had crossed a line.

 

Some were smart, others thicker than goblin-forged steel—those required additional training. Training he happily provided after they forgot their manners. Long gone were the days that Lucius ruled like a lord; his cronies had tried to take up his mantle after he had graduated, but they were quickly shot down. They were outnumbered and outsmarted, and not just in the dungeons anymore.

 

He lifted his cup to his lips, taking a sip of his tea as he cataloged those that offered the proper amount of deference and those that still dared to turn their noses up at the changing tides. He needed to speak with Sirius; the shift was happening much faster than they had anticipated.

 

“I told you, you don’t have to wait for me all the time, Severus.” Regulus droned as he picked at the collar of his robes. His form was rigid, perfect, as the nature of his upbringing forced his spine straighter under the watchful eyes of the others. He was a Black, and even if his family was now considered blood traitors according to “polite society,” his family was still equivalent to wizarding royalty.

 

“Why should I fill my company with those less agreeable, hmm?” He inquired as he finished his tea, gently setting down the cup as he rose to stand, already moving to lift his bag onto his shoulder. Regulus’s nose twitched; it was one of his singular tells—mild annoyance. It was one he was becoming more familiar with as the political environment around the school readjusted and Sirius’s quiet pressure ensured his presence remained closer than ever.

 

“Should I simply tell my brother to slacken your leash? I’ve had nanny elves less involved than you.” Regulus hissed out in a whisper as he joined him at his side. He smirked as he noticed while Regulus complained quite regularly, he still made sure to stick close—still respecting the unspoken rules.

 

“Mhmm, you’re more prickly than normal this evening.” He uttered while watching the crowd of students part for them. Those that were marked nodded in acknowledgment as they passed by.

 

“If you weren’t around every bloody corner, maybe I wouldn’t be. Seriously, I should be fine. It’s the girls we have to worry about.” Regulus sniped back as he kept his mask in place, his steps increasing as they both noticed the large group waiting for them at the end of the hall. Severus held in his laugh; the boy might be sharp-tongued, but he couldn’t hide the growing delight in his eyes as they neared.

 

“The girls are formidable, but you, however, are more of a target at this time. You might be a second son, used to obscurity, but here you are a cherished brother, an important friend—someone that could be used to sway any of those people waiting for us.” Severus quietly impressed upon the young snake.

 

Regulus paused for just a moment as he digested the words. The concept was still foreign to him, this type of connection that dealt more in affection and words than threat and consequence. His parents had certainly doted on him, but that was because he knew enough from watching his brother being beaten to remain silent and obedient. Even then he was still punished when he failed to mask fast enough—dared to follow his brother’s steps too closely. Things had changed, certainly for the better, but those lessons still lived deep within his mind. Changing something that was so deeply instinctual was more of a challenge than he realized. His steely grey eyes locked onto the bright smiling faces of the group waiting on them. The sting of his annoyance faded. A simple thought took over as he was tackled with a surprisingly strong hug, as auburn curls filled his face as he tried to hide his growing smile as his brother messed with his hair. Perhaps this quiet assurance—care disguised as coincidence—wasn’t all that bad.

 

Severus moved to stand beside Sirius as they both watched Regulus get poked and prodded by the girls, soaking up their mild mothering as they fixed his hair and robes. It filled both with a lightness to see the normally quiet boy open up. Then he was eventually teased by James and Remus as he stuttered and dodged their questions about his growing pink cheeks. His tight posture melting more and more as he relaxed.

 

“How is it?” Sirius slipped out as he leaned back against the hallway wall, the distance far enough from prying ears.

“Moving much faster than we expected, five more families have joined on.” Severus slowly pulled a rolled parchment from his robes and handed it over. Sirius took it without looking at it and pocketed it in his robes.

 

“Hmm, and the opposition?” Sirius’s tone sounded neutral, bordering on light, but there was an undercurrent that raised the hair on the back of his neck.

“They’ve dug themselves in deeper. The threat of the dark lord is still too strong to sway them.” He uttered between a smile he plastered on his face as Lily looked back toward them. James had decided to toss a snitch in the air, annoying Lily as it fell too close to her face. Both chuckled as she told him off, stepping on his foot as he yelped in shock.

 

“Even better.”

 

Sirius moved, pulling a black letter from his robes and handing it over. Severus quickly took it, opening it to read as they waited on the group to make up their minds on where they wanted to study this evening. So far, their spot near the lake was winning. His hands began to tremble, and his eyes widened as he read. He finished, rushing to hand the letter back to Sirius.

 

“Thoughts?” The smile on Sirius’s face caused his pulse to race.

“Truly?” he questioned.

“Yes,” Sirius laughed as he moved to place his hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing. Although his touch was light, the weight of it nearly brought Severus to his knees. He was being anointed, set apart, and empowered in something far bigger than himself. Far larger than he had ever dared to reach. Sirius’s face was changing, his grey eyes darkening as a vicious smile spread; the sharp point of his canines caught his eye. There was power there, violent and malevolent—desires, ones all too familiar with the ones he had locked deep within his psyche. He was flooded with the overwhelming satisfaction through their bond as his answer fell from his lips.

 

“Mors Vincit Omnia”

 

Remus’s eyes narrowed as he watched the exchange; his skin felt tight, stretched thin as a sickening thought slipped between the flood of scents and feelings brought forth by the wolf within him, pressing closer to the surface as the full moon neared.

 

“Hungry”

 

April 25th, 1975 Hogwarts

 

The moon was bright in the night sky as the pack of animals pranced through the woods; soft yips of the fox rang out as it raced after the raven that flew through the trees. The majestic stag dashed and weaved as it avoided the bumbling forms of the two largest predators trailing behind them.

 

Remus’s heart was pounding; the rush of the wind drifting through his hair, the sharp scents of happiness and excitement filled his nose as the adrenaline of the night flooded through him. He had never run in this form before, never even thought he would have this. Bound to be shackled to enclosed spaces, to walls that stung if he pressed against them, to thick cages covered in jagged barbs, ones that tore through his body when his mind failed him. Bound to fear the moon that lit the very path they ran under. It was beautiful, the moonlight, something he had never considered before. There was a bubbling feeling in his chest, one that made him turn his head to the sky as he ran; a deep howl tore from his lips, filling the sky with the song of his happiness. The wild part of him rejoiced as his pack called back. Muscles burning, heart filled with exhilaration, the beast within him finally content.

 

When the moon fell, when his bones broke and reformed, he couldn’t help but notice that the pain was gone. He was sore, he was tired, but for once he was finally free of the pain that had haunted every change. James was kind enough to ignore his tears as he covered him in a blanket. Hermione, sweet Hermione, simply wiped them away, her warm touch soothing his body as she wandlessly healed him. Severus, the grouch, mumbled as he handed him an invigorating draught, deep purple bags under his eyes as he moved to chug back a potion of his own.

 

Sirius stood back, arms crossed as he watched. When their eyes met, he winked, causing him to snort as he wiped away his tears. Their bond tugged, and he was filled with his happiness, his pride.

 

Remus’s heart squeezed—never once had he been so happy he was cursed. Because it had blessed him in equal measure.

 

May 1st, 1975 Hogwarts

 

The Room of Requirement was configured once again to mimic his uncle’s grand estate; the large willow shaded them as they lazed in the shade, the soft music of his stereobolt playing around them. He had grown tired of sharing Hermione with the masses, finally convincing her to ditch everyone else and spend some time with him alone. He wanted to breathe her in, to absorb her presence like a flower that had been shut away in the dark, desperately needing sunlight and attention. He was always desperate for more.

 

“Would you want a place like this?” He probed, eyes shut as she traced his features; for once she was lying down beside him, propped up on her elbows as she looked down on his resting face.

 

“I think I’d love that, something similar to the cottage my family has now. Except closer to the beach. I’d love to be able to run along the coast in the mornings, to read as I dig my feet into the sand.” She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. He smiled, pushing his face closer to her, silently requesting more as she giggled.

 

“To have the option to sit beneath a tree in the summer or swim in the ocean, I think something like that would be freeing. Don’t you think?”

 

“As long as I get to be beside you, I think I’d be happy just about anywhere,” he mused, turning to try to catch her lips as she moved to kiss him again. He groaned in satisfaction when he caught her.

 

“Really? What if I wanted a stuffy old townhouse like Grimmauld, filled with elf heads and capricious cursed tea sets and posh portraits that spouted blood purity?” she teased, eyes twinkling as she moved to rest her head on her arms.

 

“Well, you’re in luck; we wouldn’t even have to buy a place. I’d just kick my parents out and serve it up on a platter. There’s a small bit of me that would be thrilled seeing you stomp around and claim my childhood home.”

 

Her heart squeezed at that; a memory so faint emerged from the depths of her consciousness. Sirius, older and weathered, smiling as he watched her huff and curse while tearing down the sloughing wallpaper in Grimmauld. Molly having designated the room to her for cleaning. He had lingered in the doorway, a look so odd on his face at the time that she didn’t realize it was a small bit of happiness that shined from his hollowed form.

 

“What do you see yourself doing after we graduate? Taking on the ministry? Mastering obscure magic in some remote place?” He inquired, hoping to wipe the pensive look off her face. The question hit her hard; she had dreams once. A whole life plan, detailed in meticulous notes. Annotated for possible deviations, color-coded each year and milestone. It was a plan that had crashed and burned, tossed to the side as she fought to exist in a world that had seen her as less than. What use were plans when society didn’t see you as human? What use were dreams when your options were death or slavery? She could see it now, a ghost of a dream, a culmination of desires that still rested within her.

 

“I…I want to make a difference in whatever way I can. I want to live, to travel the world, and visit places I always dreamed of. I want to get married one day and make a family. I want to grow old with all the people I love—more than anything, I want to see them grow old, to see them have families of their own and be… be just as happy as I hope to be.” She choked as she uttered the last part. She occluded, just enough to stem the tears, to wrap her mind in a blissful numbness as she wondered what the image would be if she ever looked into the Mirror of Erised.

 

Sirius contemplated her words, filing them away, as he caressed her face, leaning in to kiss her softly as he wrapped an arm under her head, pulling her body flush against his. The soft warmth of her seeped into his side, calming the thundering beat of his heart. There was a sadness that had crept in, clinging to her. Something that made him ache to free her of it.

 

“Hmm, doesn’t sound like a tall order, love. I think we can make sure it happens.”

“How confident—it must be all that inbreeding,” she quipped, smiling as the vibration from his chest jostled her. His laugh soothed the ache that had grown in her chest. She held him tighter, soaking in his quiet calm, his steadiness.

 

“Well, it has to be good for something apart from my impeccable charm and good looks.”

He conjured a goldenrod flower, twirling it in his hands before lightly tickling her with it. She huffed, gently taking it from his hand. He drank in her softened face as she studied the flower in her hands.

 

“What about you?” she whispered, closing her eyes as she snuggled closer. The sun shone brighter as the false sky cleared. It might have been a copy, a mere imitation, but it warmed them both.

 

“I want you to have that, to see you old and grey surrounded by the memories of everything you’ve done, everything you’ve made—we’ve made. To be there and to be able to take your hand and ask you if you’re just as happy as you wished for.”

 

She couldn’t help the tears that fell as she buried her face into his chest, his soft words breaking through her barriers and crushing her as her heart grew and grew. Magic was so cruel to bless her with him.

 

Because she didn’t think she could ever live without him now.

Notes:

Thank you all for your lovely comments and support. I hope you all know I appreciate every bit of it <3

Chapter 43: Dream Weaver

Summary:

Farmers often work together toward a common goal, for when the weather turns, a tight community weathers the storm.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic.

TW: Referenced torture, death

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There is always strength in numbers. The more individuals or organizations that you can rally to your cause, the better.—Mark Shields

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May 30th, 1975 Hogwarts

 

Instincts were a curious thing, warnings of danger to come, thoughts and feelings that manifested faster than the mind could comprehend. The body and soul jumped to act on these instincts—to fix what needed to be fixed. His head was splitting, the light of the sun unbearable as his mind screamed at him to speak. He forced his lips together as he bit down harshly on the inside of his cheek, clenching and unclenching his fists in a desperate hope to alleviate some of his tension. He hated this, the constant battle against his body as the beast inside him forced its way into his life. Was it not enough that it had stolen his future? Must it steal his peace in every other moment as well?

 

James chatted away at his side, oblivious to his turmoil. His green eyes flashed golden as they watched Sirius and Severus speak quietly to each other further in the library. To the untrained eye there was nothing of importance happening, nothing so significant that his mind should be rallying against, but the beast inside of him was undeterred.

 

Howling behind his eyes, clawing and digging into the soft matter of his brain with one word: Protect.

 

Mooney recognized the moment his alpha registered his agitation; the bond between them vibrated. Like a drop in water, the vibration grew and grew until the compulsion to go to Sirius was just as maddening as the instinct within him. Remus acted in a sort of dazed horror as his mouth moved, reassuring James he would be right back, as his body rose from his seat and his feet took him over to Sirius. His heart was beating in his chest as he recognized how similar it felt to the moment his body was taken over during the full moon.

 

Sirius had stopped speaking with Severus, his intense gaze locked on his face as his head tilted. That frighteningly intelligent mind was spinning behind his grey eyes as he observed.

 

“Everything alright, Mooney?” Sirius probed. Remus couldn’t help but notice his shifting body language. The way his shoulders pulled back, making him broader than before, and the way he crossed his forearms as if upset as he stood to his full height. How he leaned in as he asked, invading his space, towering over him as if he expected a challenge. It was painful how fast his heart was racing now; he feared it could be heard with how hard it was beating against his ribcage. Sweat grew on his brow as the seconds turned to minutes.

 

His words slithered into his ears as the compulsion grew—he needed to answer, he needed to tell his alpha the truth, Mooney growled in his mind. Remus bit down on his tongue, wincing as the pain helped ward off the invasive thoughts.

 

“Is everything alright, Remus?” Sirius asked again, his tone lower, more powerful than the last. His words were echoing, dancing around his mind as he fought. His body betrayed him when it didn’t respond to his desire to shake his head. Severus continued to watch, black eyes widening as he started to understand what was happening between them. It was that quiet understanding, that did him in, that broke through his concentration.

 

Once again his body betrayed him, Mooney’s thoughts spilling from his lips.

 

“I know something’s going on… We have—we have to protect the pack.”

 

Remus relaxed just a bit as confusion flooded through him. The words didn’t match his level of anxiety, didn’t match the violent urgency that had rolled through him. His hands began to shake as he noticed the silent conversation between Sirius and Severus. There was a small lift of Severus’s brow before Sirius closed his eyes, nodding his head. Severus patted him on the shoulder before moving to his previous spot next to James, as Sirius turned to walk off, Remus’s body moved, his feet ensuring he followed. Deeper and deeper he was led into the library; the stacks of books that had once soothed him now caused him dread. It was too private, the small space Sirius had led him to.

 

That darkness he had seen all those months ago seemed to seep out of Sirius, a black cloud that invaded the very air around them as his magic rippled, claiming the space. It was unsettling, the silence of it all, how the wizard before him revealed his power. The beast inside him was rejoicing, dancing in glee in his head as it delighted in his strength. What more could a beast desire than a strong alpha?

 

Remus couldn’t look away as Sirius moved fluidly—not a single wasted gesture. His mind flashed with a scene he had seen once, a nature documentary of a lone wolf stalking his prey. It was one that had given him so many nightmares as a child. Sirius pulled a black letter from his robes before he extended his arm to him.

 

Remus drank in the details; it was black, similar to the one he had seen him show Severus days ago; however, there were golden designs that decorated this one’s border—the blood-red wax seal of House Black had been cracked.

 

“Take it.”

 

His hand shot out at the command, his curiosity burning as he slowly opened it. His eyes widened as he read.

 

 

Sirius,

 

The hounds are itching to hunt; prey has been baited and awaits your call. I hear this summer will be fruitful.

 

I cannot lie; keep your wand ready and your eyes open. We have intercepted hundreds of attempts. They grow more brazen as the storms roll in.

 

“Mors Vincit Omnia”

 

-Orion

 

“Sirius, what, what is this?” His hands were shaking. He knew, he knew there was something being relayed here, but to what end?

 

“It seems that the news of my courting has finally broken into polite society. No longer child’s gossip but confirmed officially by my family. You see, no blood traitor is ever really spared, even with a royal bloodline like the Blacks.” Sirius growled out.

 

“But, while we may face harsh ridicule and possible violence, the uppity little mudblood—” he spat out the vile word, shocking Remus to his core.

 

“That dared to latch onto a pureblood, and their Muggle family are swiftly marked for annihilation.” He felt it then, more prominent than before, the violent magic that coiled tightly around Sirius.

 

“I intend to erase that vile slur from their minds, to rip it from their mouths with my bare hands if needed, crushing the very will that allowed them to dare to threaten my witch.” His eyes were gleaming, the smile on his face filled him with horror. He swallowed as he carefully averted his eyes, slowly refolding the letter. Both hands held onto it as his mind raced; there were so many emotions fighting for dominance.

 

“Does… Does Hermione know?” He uttered, trying to ignore the insistent memory of watching Sirius take down Bertram. Ignoring how it morphed into a vivid scene of him ending a Death Eater. Ignoring the way he found a small bit of joy and hunger from it.

 

Sirius’s smile quickly dropped, his face blank as his now black eyes stared into him, piercing him to his core.

 

“No. Why the fuck do you think I’d risk her doing something noble?” He scoffed, but he moved, turning his body away as he tapped his finger on his forearm. Remus clocked the nervous twitch of his brow.

 

“She should know, Sirius, if… If what you told me is true, that she and her family have had threats intercepted…”

 

Sirius rubbed his sternum as he stared off.

 

“Remus, I asked her, I asked her to let me handle her worries. And she said yes. This is one thing I don’t need to stress her with, especially not when I can handle it.” He turned his expressionless face to him. Eyes still black. Still just as frightening as the violent magic surrounding them.

 

“I will do what needs to be done to protect the pack, don’t you get it, Mooney?” His voice was low; the rush of magic in his words flooded through him. Sirius had opened the link between them. He gasped as he clawed at his chest. The weight of Sirius’s emotions was unbearable, choking him as he leaned forward trying to suck in air as his legs shook. Merlin, is this what was behind those black eyes?

 

Beast and man blended; finally, the burning instincts within him became clear. Calmness settled over him as the link between them closed. Remus panted as he tried to steady himself.

 

Sirius waited; his mind was calculating the next move as he watched the paleness fade from Remus’s face. He liked Remus; he really did, but he liked Severus more. Always liked the fact that he towed the same line—felt the same darkness and hunger. It was something one could always recognize in another. Remus was a pure soul, the kind you felt pain for when you saw them struggle, the kind you fought to help because they never deserved what life dealt them. He wasn’t as bright or intense of a warmth as Hermione, or the soft blaze that James held, but it was just as nice. But he didn’t need pureness; he didn’t need warmth for what he needed to do. He wanted the desperate, hungry, wretchedness of wizards who could repay the hand they’d been dealt.

 

“What, what does Severus have to do with this, Sirius?”

 

“Severus understands what needs to be done.”

 

“And I don’t? James doesn’t?” Remus scrutinized; there was a bit of hurt there, even though he was filled with horror, with repulsion at the very idea—the tiny burning seed of rejection still stung.

 

Sirius sighed, running his hands through his hair. He moved, coming close to Remus, towering over his form as he slowly slipped his hand up the back of his neck, pausing as he gripped him, tightening his hold just enough to keep his focus as he leaned in. Remus’s eyes widened; he blushed, suddenly uncomfortable with the closeness of their forms. Lowering his gaze as he tensed in his hold.

 

“Do you, Remus? Really understand what I mean when I say I’ll rip it from their mouths, erase it from their minds? Do you—” He tightened his grip, angling his head, forcing him to look directly into his eyes.

 

“Understand how serious I am when I say. I. will. do. whatever. it takes?”

 

Sirius’s eyes were searching for something as he waited. The longer the silence grew between them, the more Remus could feel a slight hint of disappointment through their bond. It drenched him in a wave of prickling sadness.

 

Sirius’s face morphed once again, slowly sliding into the blank iciness from before. Remus once again bit down on his tongue; he understood. It was something he had always worried about, that small, inconsequential thought that had lingered in his mind as he watched Sirius over the years. Easily brushed away each time they planned a prank, each time he watched him joke or get bossed around by a tiny, soft-hearted witch.

 

He was hit with the oddest sensation, the desire to cry as Sirius removed his hand. Silently fixing his ruffled hair and robes before placing a brittle smirk on his face. The sigh he let out felt like a hex, the beast within him whining as it lamented over its alpha’s displeasure.

 

“You know, I always understood a bit of what you felt. The blinding need to separate myself from what lived inside me, from the monsters I’d seen. And in a way I have.” He moved past him, shoulders brushing.

 

“Just like you, it burns in my blood like a curse. It takes over my mind and fills me with urges no sane wizard should have. But there is no potion for me, Remus.”

 

He took another step away, the distance between them growing larger.

 

“When you understand what I mean and want to help, just like Severus—owl me. Like my father said, The summer will be fruitful.”

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

“Siri.”

“Yes, love.” Sirius hummed as he moved to pull her bag off her shoulder and placed it on his own. He fretted as he fixed her collar and untangled a rogue curl from being pinched between her robes. He admired the slight crinkling of her nose as she thought carefully before speaking.

 

“What in God’s name is going on between you and Remus? He’s been more withdrawn than usual.”

She whispered as she leaned up on her tippy toes, trying to kiss his cheek before they started walking. He smiled, quickly leaning down to meet her, preening under her attention as he took her arm and started to lead them both to her next class. Ignoring the eyes of the surrounding students, Sirius paused before answering.

 

“Growing pains.”

“Huh?”

 

“It’s just something that happens when you start to get older, a revelation in a sense.” He teased. She rolled her eyes. The pure annoyance on her face was something that caused him to laugh.

 

“You’re only a few months older than us all, Siri.”

 

“Ah, yes, but you said it yourself—older. Trust me on this one, Kitten.”

 

“Alright.”

 

 

June 16th, 1975 Hogwarts

 

Longing was something she was used to, a familiar stranger that lived inside her, filling her with thousands of thoughts, thousands of dreams, and possibilities. She longed to turn seventeen, longed to flee the wrath of her father, and longed to unshackle the chains of her mother’s hands gripping tightly around her neck. A proper witch wouldn’t act like this. A proper witch understands her duty. A proper witch will do what she must.

 

Longed to be free of the heavy weight that followed a “proper witch”.

 

He was a star, shining brightly, stealing her breath and filling her world with color—how could she not long for him when a small piece of her screamed in her chest that he should have been hers?

 

How could she not try to catch the dream that had haunted her?

 

Taking a drag from her cigarette, Marlene watched in envy as Sirius and Hermione smiled, walking arm in arm as they made their way down to the express. Alissa chattered in her ear with the other girls; they were still talking about that fucking kiss. The one that had felt like it had ripped her heart out. The one that had damned her soul, and left no more room for wild fantasies.

 

It was always hazy when she tried to remember it, slipping through her fingers like smoke, but the feeling of it never left her. He was older, much more mercurial than he was now, covered in runes and Muggle tattoos as he smoked shirtless next to a window in an apartment. One she swore was hers. He stood out against the snowy backdrop—light shining brightly off his pale skin. He never said anything in this dream. But when he turned to look at her, the smile that crossed his face filled her with something more extraordinary than magic. Filled her with so much hope that she had cried upon waking.

 

Tearing her eyes away as the couple vanished down the path, she unclenched the letter in her hands. It was a short note—the details of her betrothal contract. Her heart constricted.

 

Of course, being free could only ever be a dream.

 

July 1st, 1975 Prince Estate (Morning)

 

It started like any other day; the sun was shining as it crept through the large glass windows. His grandfather, Octavian, mumbled to himself over a large cup of Earl Grey as he flipped through the business section of the Daily Prophet. His grandmother Livia fussed over his mother as they both planned for the upcoming Malfoy ball. The entire family had been invited, although there were still remnants of tension with some sacred 28 families and the princes. He sneered internally, his face blank as he tapped his foot against the floor. It seemed that reinstating their blood traitor daughter and her half-blood spawn was fine as long as the muggle had been cut out of the equation. Yet advancing medical treatment for witches and wizards, whom they saw as creatures, was a touch too far. They had already had to move several of their suppliers and contracts to more neutral parties overseas.

 

They never spoke of it, but the silent consideration his grandfather made regarding the security of their potions factories—how religiously he tested the wards these days—spoke of a danger dancing just beyond their sight. His grandmother’s insistent need for everything to be “just right” with their robes—with the type of protective jewelry they would be wearing to the ball—filled him with anger.

 

They had dared to become decent human beings, and they were being punished for it. His disdain for such corruption grew with each nervous sigh his mother uttered. Mixton shuffled beside him, eyes knowing as he refilled his cup. Staring down into the dark swirling mass, he felt the aching hole in his chest grow. Powerless. Even after gaining a name, a legacy, he was still beholden to the whims of older men, older wizards that sought to erase his family. Still starving for a feeling of control that he had only brushed against.

 

“I think I will retire for a while.”

 

“Alright, darling, please keep in mind we have an appointment at twilffts at 12.” His mother gushed as she flipped through the robe catalog.

 

He made his way up the curving oak stairs to his room. Relaxing as he made his way inside, it was decorated similarly to the Slytherin common room, with dark velvets and equally dark woods. Nicknacks the Evans family had gifted him rested on his desk. The large rows of bookshelves caught his eye as he removed his outer robes, setting them on the back of his chair. He smirked as he noticed his grandfather had filled the gaps while he was at school. Notable potion volumes like Marcutio’s Herbology of Synergistic Natures and Calvin’s Adjustable Potion Primers were peeking out between his hand-selected tomes.

 

As he passed by his bed, there was a rush of magic that captured his attention. Stopping abruptly, he turned, his black eyes widening as he finally noticed a large black package sitting on his comforter. Eyes immediately catching the house sigil pressed into the paper. It was almost impossible to see, but the small glimmer of magic used to make it twinkled in the soft light. He breathed deeply as his pulse began to race. Heading to the bed, he reached out, his hands moving on instinct to unravel the unexpected gift. As he peeled the wrapping back, he paused once the paper fell away. Sitting atop deep black robes was a mask. It, too, was black, so dark that he almost missed the engraved patterns. His eyebrows narrowed as he picked up the mask; looking closer, he found that the pattern was just a culmination of one singular rune. He moved quickly, setting the mask down on his desk as he turned to his shelves, eyes scanning for the book he was looking for.

 

Once he found it, he moved back to his desk, setting it down as he picked up the mask with one hand and flipped through the pages with the other. It took him a while to find it, his eyes devouring the name and its meaning.

 

Thuirsaz. The Giant.

 

His hand came up to trace the rune. The symbol of destructive power, of chaos and protection.

It was the force that shattered obstacles—that ushered in change.

 

He gently set it down, eyes looking upon it in reverence.

 

 

July 1st, 1975 Undisclosed location (Night)

 

Severus had donned the robes and mask, his heart racing in anticipation as he unwrapped the portkey that had come with both. He laughed the moment he saw it earlier; it was a black raven feather. Of course the git wouldn’t waste an opportunity to tease him. The note he had found in the pockets simply stated what time he would need to use it. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. Eyes watching the clock, each tick of its hands adding a new layer of anxiety. He thought the mask would feel stifling, but the gentle pressure against his face and the softness of his robes helped anchor him. At exactly 12am, he wrapped his hands around the black feather; a harsh tug pulled at his navel as he was ripped away.

 

Stumbling as he landed, he rushed to correct himself as he fought off a crippling wave of nausea. Rushing to occlude, he rested his hands on his knees as he leaned over, inhaling deeply and holding it before exhaling. After a few seconds the nausea abated, and he righted himself to the soft chuckle of a dark figure.

 

Smoking underneath an enchanted lamp was Sirius, donned in the same black robes. His mask, however, was different; it did not cover his entire face, nor was it smooth. The top half of his face was covered with a black skull, his grey eyes shining in the moonlight, his vicious grin morphed him into a ghastly figure.

 

Sirius pressed his cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply as he shut his eyes and turned his face upward. Severus was enchanted, his attention drawn to the smoke as he exhaled, the patterns dancing like ghostly figures as Sirius made his way closer.

 

“Are you sure about this, Severus?” Sirius softly questioned as he crumpled his cigarette, easily vanishing it wandlessly as he turned his frame. Severus rolled the question around, his heart beating in his chest as the reality of the situation hit him. There was only one answer for him, his mind, his soul firm in his decision. Those haunting eyes judged him, weighing him as they awaited his answer.

 

“Yes.”

 

Slowly it formed, the wide-fanged smile that took over Sirius’s face. He closed the distance, grabbing Severus by the back of the neck as he pulled him in for a hug. He grunted, trying to pull away from the overly affectionate git, the seriousness of the moment broken by his absurdity. It was as if Sirius sensed the change; his grip instantly shifted from teasing to crushing as he forced his body still, pulling back until their faces were inches apart. Severus’s pulse was racing once again as he looked into those black eyes.

 

The deep rumbling voice that fell from Sirius’s lips made him jolt, goosebumps erupting all over his flesh.

 

“There is no going back after this, Severus; just say the word and I’ll send you home. But know if you stay—that’s it.”

 

Severus knew from the rush of power, from the adrenaline flooding through his veins, that his words held absolution and damnation, held a vow that would tie their futures together.

 

“Death conquers all.”

 

He could feel it in that moment, the swell of magic snapping his vow into place; the runes on his mask began to glow, illuminating the wild look in Sirius’s eyes.

 

“Brilliant! Come, come, the night is young!” Sirius laughed as his hand moved from his neck to his shoulder, pulling him along into the decrepit shack he had been standing next to. Down, down, down they traveled until they ended at a heavy door. Severus wondered if this was what it was like traveling willingly into the depths of hell.

 

He closed his eyes. Only taking a moment before snapping them open and reaching for the door.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

He was done for; he just knew it. McNair gasped as he raced through the forest. His muscles were burning as he tried to claw his way up a hill. The sounds of his raspy breaths filled his ears as his heart pounded so hard he could feel the pulsating pressure in the tips of his ears. Cursing when his wandless spell failed, he fought harder, breaking off one of his nails as it caught on a sharp branch. His magic was weak, much too weak to help him now as he continued to bleed from the large gash in his side. He barely registered the pain from any of his wounds as he made his way over the hill. Eyes filling with tears as he pushed himself to run.

 

He had been captured during a simple reconnaissance mission in a Muggle city, his defenses lowered—because what could mere animals actually do to a wizard like him? But he had miscalculated, dropping his guard even after he had felt a tiny wave of magic. It had happened so fast; he had a blip, a flash of black in the corner of his eye, and that was it. He had awoken to devils, to wizards dressed in all black. He had laughed at first, taunting them as copycats. But when the first crucio flowed through him, when the blade sliced between his ribs, he finally understood just how serious they were.

 

The shrill cry of a raven startled him; he looked up, stumbling as he tried to find the bird in the canopy above. It was following him, circling overhead as he moved desperately toward what he hoped was the ward line. Fear shot through him as he saw its form descending, fluttering down to land on the ground in front of his path. He came to a harsh stop, tumbling over his feet as he tried not to get too close. He rushed to wipe the snot and tears from his face as he panted, eyes wide as he looked around. The raven merely cocked its head, tilting it back and forth before crying out again, its large wings expanding.

 

Its beady eyes were shining in the moonlight as the soft crumpling of leaves filled the clearing. Deep terror filled McNair, his body shaking as he moved to take a step forward. He didn’t even make it an inch.

 

The raven watched as the Grim burst from the shadows, snapping its mighty jaws around the back of McNair’s neck, swiftly snapping it before his body hit the ground.

 

It cried in joy as the Grim tore the wizard apart, relishing in the splashes of blood that coated its feathers. And when the beast finally became a man, it transformed.

 

Severus smiled, his face covered in specks of blood as he watched Sirius open his arms wide. His laugh rang through the forest as he spun. His eyes were glowing in the moonlight as he made his way over. Once he was close enough, Sirius clapped him on the back before moving to pull out his pack of smokes. They both sank to the ground, sitting side by side as Sirius pulled out two cigarettes. He placed one between his lips, wandlessly lighting it before offering the other to him. Severus was filled with ecstasy, his magic flooded with power and a satisfaction he had never experienced before. He finally felt powerful, felt the control he had been chasing after all his life.

 

He took it, moving the cigarette to his lips as he leaned to the side. Sirius smirked as he leaned in too, lighting it for him. They both took a drag. Sirius chuckled as he watched him cough—it was horrible in a way, yet that horrible burning, choking feeling turned into pleasure as he sought it again and again. As he watched the black-masked figures emerge from the darkness, moving to clean what was left of the Death Eater they had caught, he couldn’t help but turn his black eyes to the moon.

 

He felt blessed.

Chapter 44: Dream On

Summary:

Some flowers require extra care, for the damage they acquired in harsher seasons makes it difficult to grow even after it's healed.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This is my first fanfic

TW: PTSD, referenced torture

---

“He who knows no hardships will know no hardihood. He who faces no calamity will need no courage. Mysterious though it is, the characteristics in human nature which we love best grow in a soil with a strong mixture of troubles.”—Harry Emerson Fosdick

---

July 19th, 1975 Evans Cottage

 

Her eyes traced the brushstrokes, the swirls of color—the pops of depth that shook her to her core. The sky that evening reminded her of a portrait she had once seen as a girl; her memory faded, broken in pieces, as all she remembered were the colors and the warm hand that had held hers. Large splashes of color blended seamlessly into a divinely inspired view. Soft clouds illuminated by a glowing pinks that transformed and blended into soft purples and light baby blues. Bathed in gold and orange as the sun was setting, falling beneath the horizon, she sat quietly. Mind muddled with the feeling of Nox’s fingers moving with a quiet dedication as he artfully tamed her curls into soft ringlets—elaborate side braids interwoven with black family pearls charmed to sparkle, to reflect light as if they were diamonds, left her breathless as she took in her image in the mirror. Sirius had always said he thought she was a nymph when he had first seen her; looking at the otherworldly creature staring back at her in the mirror, she felt for once she might agree.

 

“I understand, no really I do, but I hoped—”

Nox moved to reach for the baby’s breath and apple blossoms on the table, slowly adding it to her hair as the conversation just outside the room filtered in.

 

“Rose, I am sorry, but we just cannot guarantee you both would be safe at the manor…”

 

The manor. Malfoy Manor.

 

The shift of golden light in the room dimmed, the sun dipping further and further as the night ascended. The light of the candles burned brighter as darkness started to form in the edges of the room. Hazy pockets filled with voices.

 

It was closing in with each second that passed, the creeping dread that filled her body, daring to steal her peace, daring to ignore the years she had worked to move past the ghosts that had haunted her. Nox’s piercing eyes focus heavily on the slight shake of her leg, the increase in her breath, and the tremor slowly building in her shoulders. Cackling, soft and ghastly, filtered through her ears, growing louder and louder as her heart began to race, adrenaline trickling in her blood. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks as she forced her face to remain blank. She forced herself to try to occlude, but it slipped through her cracks and flooded her mind.

 

“Why don’t us girls have a little chat.”

 

She let out a startled gasp as she felt dark, cold hands scrape along her skin, sliding up the back of her neck as the voice whispered close to her ear. She could smell it, the rank breath, the unwashed musk of the snatchers that lingered on her skin. Her eyes snapped to the mirror; there was nothing—nothing.

 

“You are a lying, filthy Mudblood…”

 

The shaking in her legs increased as she started to tense, Nox growing more concerned as he rushed to finish. She had to protect them; it would all be over—he would come.

 

“And I know it…”

 

Her flesh stung as those hands eventually moved to capture her wrists, tightening their hold before a sharp, piercing pain dug into the skin of her left arm. She was breathing fast, nerves firing, as they screamed in agony as if she had been electrified. Sweat collected on her brow as she felt the cold steel enter her skin, biting down on the inside of her cheek as she felt it drag down, slicing into muscle and ligaments. With each frantic breath, the distance she could inhale shortened, tighter and tighter it coiled until she felt suffocated, felt desperate for air. Her vision was darkening, growing hazy as Nox tilted her head, his warm magic swelling in her chest, forcing past her barriers as she struggled to keep him out. She needed to protect them. She whimpered as it allowed her a moment of reprieve—allowed her to suck in the air she so desperately needed. Her body tensing with each new drag of the dagger, with each new stroke of violent tearing etched into her skin. Louder and louder the cackling laugh of Bellatrix grew as her icy magic petrified her. As the curse she chanted was repeated over and over again.

 

“CRUCIO.”

 

“We found it—we found it,” she whispered in a haze. The concern on Nox’s face grew as he noticed her eyes no longer focused.

 

“What else did you take? What Else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!”

 

Laughter drifted in from the room outside, blending with the screams echoing in her head.

 

“We have officially announced their courtship, and so this ball is the optimal time to introduce both girls—”

 

She slowly clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as thousands of ghostlike needles stabbed her, over and over again. Her throat felt raw from screaming, from pleading.

 

“CRUCIO! WHAT ELSE HAVE YOU TAKEN FROM MY VAULT, MUDBLOOD? ANSWERRRR MEEE!”

 

She bit down on her painted lips, halting the sob that threatened to consume her.

 

Her heart was banging against her sternum, strong harsh beats as her blood pressure skyrocketed as blood flooded her veins. Her mouth felt dry as she unclenched her fist, terror flooding her as she braced herself, shifting her gaze to the exposed skin of her left arm. She gasped, inhaling deeply as her eyes saw the bloody, gaping slur carved into her flesh, black veins spiraling outward from the mangled ruin. Blood drained from her face as she snapped her eyes shut, desperately trying to control her breathing. Trying to control her mind.

 

Its not real, its not real. Its not real.

 

Tears flooded her closed eyes as she battled against the waves of panic, of terror running through her, occluding hard, ripping and tearing the memory apart with all her strength as she banished it to the depths of her mind. Thankfully she had blocked her bond with Sirius the moment she realized she would have to visit Malfoy Manor for the first time since her torture.

 

“I assure you, they’ll both be chaperoned by the family the entire night…”

 

Deeper and deeper she forced it, suffocating it under the sea of memories buried deep in her subconscious. A chilling numbness was spreading, swallowing the terror, the pain, and the anxiety that had grown into a monstrous entity within her. Down, down, down. Beneath the waves, beneath the light, she buried it at the darkest point. She couldn’t do this again; there was so much more she had to do.

 

She forced herself to swallow, to take another deep, steadying breath, before slowly opening her eyes and daring to glance down once more. Barely registering Nox’s soothing voice in her ear.

 

Clear, unblemished skin.

 

She moved her shaking hand, her finger lightly caressing her arm. It was gone, but she remembered; she would always remember even if it was muted now. She knew each loop, each dip as she began tracing the letters with her fingers in Bellatrix’s messy scrawl.

 

M U D B L O O D

 

The room transformed around her; she was no longer sitting in her home but propped up against a headboard, hunger tearing apart her stomach as the room spun. The pain potion dulled the intensity of it all, but it still clung to her like phantoms in the night. Fleur had quietly whispered her apologies through a stream of tears as she moved, wrapping her arm again and again. The harsh flickering of the diagnostic charm grew her budding headache. Bill stood solemnly in the corner of the room, face gaunt and eyes dark, as he waited for his wife to finish. He had looked so much older in that moment, as if it had been years instead of months that she had seen him last. Through her haze she remembered giggling as he calmly informed her that it was cursed—she was cursed. Bellatrix was a vicious witch, never one to allow her prey to escape without something to remember her by. It was designed to linger, to seep deep into her magical core, before consuming her and festering until it drove her mad.

 

Bellatrix had made sure she would never forget her place. Had ensured the one thing that had ever made her worth something in anyone’s eyes—her mind—would be ripped away.

 

“We’re working so this won’t be an issue in the future, but for now this is the best time to make sure…”

 

In the quiet that had taken over after, in the loneliness of her room in Shell Cottage, she had thought to herself in a moment of weakness while watching the crashing waves. That it might be better to simply walk into the sea—to let it swallow her whole. At least then, she would get to choose how it all ended.

 

Hermione Granger never got to choose. Everything was taken from her in the end.

 

Nox tutted as he wiped her tears, the action startling her, dragging her back to the present as he fretted, snapping his fingers, his gentle magic soothing as it fixed her makeup. His wide, dark eyes knowing as he moved to finish her hair—a vial of calming draught slowly materialized in front of her on the vanity.

 

“Master, Nox is so glad you’re back. You must not go there; it is a bad place. You are meant to be here.”

 

Her lips quivered as she listened to his words, as she fought not to ruin his work. The vial moved, gently coming to rest in her lap near her hands. Without a word, Nox disapparated.

 

“Bloody Hell—” The gruff shout startled her as Nox reappeared, dragging a half-dressed Sirius closer to her chair. He snapped his mouth closed, eyes widening as he took in her appearance. She was speechless as her eyes drank him in, as her magic sighed in relief.

 

“Master, no more sadness, I bring your mate. He fixes it.” Nox cooed as he roughly pushed Sirius closer.

 

Sirius was breathless as he gazed at the nymph before him, her wild curls adorned in jewels and flowers, the soft whites and pinks enhancing her beauty, yet there was a sadness radiating from her. She looked so fragile, so small. Her beautiful eyes were red and slightly puffy as she sniffled, her hands shaking as she rolled a vial between them. His eyes narrowed as he realized he couldn’t feel all of her; their bond was stilted. She was hiding from him again, pulling those pieces of her that she feared to share. The ones he desperately wanted to know—how else could he help her? How could he protect her if he didn’t know when she needed him the most?

 

He moved slowly before coming to kneel at her feet. Eyes devouring the slight shake of her shoulders, the paleness of her skin, and the way she turned her gaze down and away as if ashamed. That cut him deeply. She should never fear to let him see, to meet his gaze. He placed his hands on hers, calming their movements as he picked up the vial they had been holding. His mind registered the color—calming draught. He uncapped it for her, slowly lifting it up, eyes calculating as he watched her hesitate before taking it from him and drinking it.

 

Her eyes were closed, but he could tell the moment it worked as the tension left her body and her shivering muscles relaxed. He rested his hands on her thighs, his mind purring as he felt the silky texture of her dress and the softness of her legs. Focus. Rubbing his thumbs back and forth as he waited, he watched her blink, once and then twice, before being blessed with her golden eyes.

 

“Oh, love.”

 

He whispered as he moved to wipe a tear that had fallen from her eyes; he ignored the urge to taste it. Pushing a curl behind her ear, he gave her a small smile.

 

“What is possibly making my lovely witch so upset? Hmm?”

 

Hermione’s lips trembled more as she looked into his loving eyes. She felt whole, felt warm the moment he appeared, their magic combing and driving away the icy numbness that had taken over. There was a part of her that was screaming, begging to confess to him. To finally have someone know. Yet the moment she pushed to let out those words, her mouth clamped down harder. Instead, she went with a half-truth.

 

“I’m afraid to go to the manor, to be surrounded by people that would rather see me and my family dead…” She sniffled, eyes unable to look away from his bare chest, from the curve of his jaw that connected to a tantalizing neck covered by wild hair. Focus. He didn’t speak, just continued to rub soothing circles on her thighs. The calming draught helped mute the intensity of her feelings but not his; she could feel his growing anger and his worry. Could feel how desperately he ached each time he watched her frown.

 

“It’s silly, really.” She turned her head, her eyes catching her face in the mirror, relieved she hadn’t ruined all of Nox’s work. Granger’s voice was ringing in her ears; she was more than some weepy damsel; she had fought in a war. She was strong. She should be strong, but there was a small part of her that wished to let go. That finally felt safe enough to loosen the death grip she had on her heart.

 

His warm hand came to cup her cheek, turning her face back to him.

 

“Say the word, and we won’t go.” He uttered, eyes searching her face.

 

Her sore heart started to beat faster once more.

“Sirius, we… We have to; we’ve already told the Malfoys we would, and etiquette about the courting announcement…” She rambled as he clicked his tongue at her.

 

“Fuck them.”

 

“Sirius! Language,” she let out a shaky chuckle at the sneer on his face.

 

“Hermione, love, Merlin himself could rise from the dead demanding your presence. It wouldn’t matter to me one bit if you told me you didn’t want to. No one is going to force you; no one will make you do anything you don’t want to.”

 

He smiled at her little smirk; leaning further onto her legs, he continued.

 

“I’d love nothing more than snubbing some dodgy pureblood ponces and keeping you all to myself—so, what do you say, princess?”

 

She couldn’t help but smile when she felt how serious he was through the bond. He made it so hard not to give in. Logically she knew they needed to go, knew that this was also a chance to snatch the Horcrux relatively easily, but boy did she want nothing more than to hide away, basking in his company. Her emotions were unpredictable, but she felt more herself now that he was here.

 

“We go.”

He groaned, but the twinkle in his eye betrayed his seriousness.

“Alright, we go, but…you can’t hex me if I mess with the poncey purebloods a bit.”

 

“Sirius, your whole family is made of poncy purebloods.” she deadpanned as she watched him rise, eyes finding their way to the small patch of black hair that led from his belly button into his pants. Focus, girl. She forced her eyes to look at his face, blushing as she noticed he had caught her ogling. God, she was a mess. 

 

“Thank you, we’ll be back shortly to gather the girls..”

 

Orion’s loud voice filled the room. Sirius’s eyes widened as he started to panic. His family had become slightly less horrible, but being caught in his girlfriend’s room half-clothed would ensure his demise.

 

“Shi—I mean, I got to go, love. Are you sure you’re okay?” He questioned as Nox walked up and stood beside him.

 

“Yes, thank you… For everything. Sorry that Nox stole you away.”

"Never apologize for that love; please steal me more if you need to."

 

He made a decision in that moment and rushed over, giving her a bruising kiss before turning and grabbing Nox’s hand. They vanished the moment she heard the clacking of heels heading toward her room. She rushed to fix her dress, taking one last look at the beauty Nox had created before moving to stand. The game was about to begin, and she could no longer afford to fall. There was a knock on her half-opened door before her mother stepped in.

 

“Oh, Mia, love, you’re gorgeous!” She rushed over, appraising her figure.

“I fear your beau’s brain just might melt. Hopefully he won’t be too distracted tonight.” Rose teased.

 

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh, finally feeling more human, more herself, as her mother cooed and complimented.

 

July 19th, 1975 Malfoy Manor

 

The grandeur of the Malfoy Manor had taken her breath away; its large stone walls and manicured gardens opened up into light stones and rich family tapestries. Stunning fairy lights illuminated the way into a grand ballroom, filled with hundreds of families mingling below a charmed ceiling. It looked like spring, the collection of earthly colors, of fluttering robes that mimicked the wildflowers that surrounded them. The Black properties she had visited before held some of the same splendor, the same coldness wrapped in excellence that struck her—oddly enough, in the same way Hogwarts had. Magical—otherworldly. Yet, there was a pinching in her chest, the realization that most of these people never truly looked at her, never really acknowledged her. And would never want to. Old money entrenched in blood purity, a mix that was even more exclusionary than their Muggle counterparts.

 

“This is Lily Evans, Hermione’s sister.” Lily faked a smile as she was introduced once again to a couple that looked at her raised hand as if she carried the plague. She steeled herself, showering them with a dazzling smile as she waited. Their faces remained soft and affable, but their eyes told another story. They exchanged pleasantries; the dismissal was quick, at least before moving to the next group of purebloods. There were a few families that did not respond with disdain, mostly blood traitors and foreigners still adjusting to the oddities of British wizarding culture. Yet, it wore on her, layering her anger with each interaction. Hermione’s sister. That’s all she was to these people, a side note unworthy of acknowledging her accomplishments. Unworthy of praise unless attached to the sister who had somehow snagged pureblood royalty. It didn’t matter that she was one of the most intelligent witches in her year, nor that she had begun to work with St. Mungo’s on their wolfsbane distribution—something the princes had happily involved her in once they knew of her plans. It didn’t matter that she was the flower of society at Hogwarts, that people flocked to gain her attention.

 

And the most upsetting image of all was her sister and her boyfriend. The pair looked impossibly beautiful, the light catching on their forms, as if the magic in the room couldn’t help but shine upon them. The crowd gravitated to them, even ignoring the elder family that accompanied them as they curried for favor. Her sister captured the same icy eyes that had landed on her, transforming them from hate to wonder, dragging them in as if they had seen a god. Sirius, large and imposing, wrapped in all Black, stood close—if she was the light, he was her shadow. Both mesmerizing, both breathtaking.

 

It stung, this aching in her chest, this ugly jealousy that arose. It made her feel horrible, made her hate herself, because she couldn’t understand why. Why had she always felt this way? She squeaked in surprise when a glass of champagne floated into her view, held by a very familiar hand.

 

“Now this won’t do; a lovely witch like you shouldn’t be left alone.” James chided as he moved to stand next to her, still holding the glass as his hazel eyes connected with hers. There was a softness on his face, an understanding as she moved to take the glass.

 

“James! I didn’t know you’d be here, thank you.” She rushed out, returning his smile. There was something in her magic that settled around him. He felt—good.

 

She felt warm, her skin flushing as she took a sip of the drink. It was surprisingly sweet. Emerald eyes roved over his appearance—it was less wild than she was used to; he was always full of life, always moving and disheveled as if nothing could contain him. Seeing him so polished, so still, was difficult to wrap her mind around. She’d nearly pinched herself as her mind wandered, only to stick on one glaringly new fact.

 

He was handsome. She banished the thought as her body moved closer to him, seeking company, seeking his warmth in a room that slowly became colder as the night dragged on. They both turned to look at the couple just a few steps away. The silence between them was comfortable and almost necessary as they stood apart from the magic being woven in front of them.

 

“You know… I.. Feel a bit sad watching them.” James whispered before taking a sip of his drink. Pulse racing as her skin flushed in embarrassment. How could he have possibly known? Her shoulder pressed into his, moving unconsciously as she tried to calm herself.

 

 

“Have you ever felt it? A little part of yourself that seems… unsettled?” James whispered, the tone of his voice squeezing her heart; it was filled with a prickling melancholy as it trickled into her ears. He didn’t wait for her response as the music swelled around them.

 

“They’re both some of my best mates; I couldn’t be happier… yet I feel….. Set aside. Like something that used to be mine is gone.” James sighed, vanishing the glass in his hand. The light of the chandelier cast rays of color on his face, highlighting his high cheekbones and pale skin. The darkness of his wind-swept hair only enhanced his features.

 

“Just, sorry, this is weird—”

 

“No,” Lily rushed to speak, her heart racing in recognition. He felt just like she did.

“I.. I feel the same way, James. I always have.” She looked down at her hands, clenching and unclenching her gloved fingers.

 

“I don’t know what it means.”

 

She confessed, her eyes snapping up as they landed on Hermione and Sirius, unwilling to watch his reaction. Anxiety raced through her—how would he take her words? Would he think badly of her?

 

James let out a relieved laugh, eyes sparkling, and his whole body turned to her.

“Thank goodness I’m not alone…”

 

The music around them signaled the change; polite conversation died as couples moved to pair up to dance as the next chorus started. James dropped into the deep bow, his hand extending as he nervously asked her.

 

“Will you do the honor of dancing with me, Miss Evans?”

 

She ignored the soft gasps around them and ignored the gossiping eyes of the older masses as she slowly slipped her hand into his. For once the dark fog that had clouded the night dispersed.

 

“I’d love to.”

 

She took his words to heart; finally, she wasn’t alone.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

Sirius quietly cataloged the names and faces of those that introduced themselves. He had always hated the stuffy rules and formality of the events his family had dragged him to over the years, but he was able to push through his distaste as he escorted the glowing beauty on his arm. He was fighting every second of the night not to simply rest his eyes on her lithe form and melt into her embrace. He was barely holding it together as he felt her soft fingers rub little figures on his arm, or when a flash of the soft, creamy skin of her shoulder peeked out beneath her elegant curls.

 

He had rolled his eyes at his father’s knowing face and bristled when he saw his grandfather exchange a few galleons with his mother after watching him trip over his feet the first time he had gotten to see her fully, untainted by the sadness she had earlier. She was magnificent, standing tall, magic teasing him as he stuttered out his appreciation. Tonight it seemed the world finally understood just how beautiful she was as well.

 

He clenched his jaw as he smelled the desire rolling off another old git as he moved to kiss her hand in greeting. He could tell Hermione had smelled it as well when she tensed beside him. He wondered if he could wandlessly hex the man before the night was over. Sadness and nervousness ran through him, his eyes moving from the next couple back to James’s form. There was something wrong with his friend. He was about to turn back but chuckled instead when the emotions turned to appreciation and longing. It seemed this was something James would need to muster up the courage to face alone. His eyes clocked the light blushes on both James’s and Lily’s faces before turning back to the dignitary that had just introduced himself.

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Evans; my name is Anastas Mikoyan.” The gruff man stated before he greeted her, his hand turning to him as he gave him a firm shake. He was an older wizard, foreign by the look of his robes.

 

“It is an honor to meet the ex-Russian chairman of the presidium. However, hopefully you’ll forgive my surprise, for I didn’t know you were actually a wizard.” Hermione teased as she leaned more heavily on Sirius; it was their silent cue that the individual in front was someone to keep an eye on. The charm turned on instantly, the man momentarily blinded by Sirius’s smile.

 

“Ah yes, we’ve heard so much about your accomplishments. I dare to ask if you’d be open to an owl from me after this; there are a few things I’d like to pick your brain about.” Sirius inquired, his eyes steel as he watched the wizards micro-expressions. He ignored the urge to smirk when he noticed the man’s curiosity had won.

 

“I would be most interested in that; please do.” The music changed around them, cutting off the conversation prematurely; the band was signaling the start of the dancing portion of the evening.

 

“I apologize, but we’ll need to take our leave. I believe I promised this stunning witch here a dance or two. Who am I to deny her?” Sirius smiled; his heady gaze on Hermione made the boisterous man laugh.

 

“Please, go, It would be a shame to disappoint one so lovely.”

 

Hermione flushed; it grated his nerves. He should be the only one making her blush, but he banished the thought as he felt her entwine their fingers.

 

He escorted her toward the dance floor, his body burning as he turned to press her form against his as the sound of the waltz filtered through the ballroom. He leaned in closer, taking in her scent as they moved, their bodies blending, moving as one. The sights and sounds around them blurred, both attuned to each other as the music guided them.

 

“So tell me, princess, why that one.”

 

She smirked as she twirled in his arms, eyes staring only into his as she melted into his hold. Trusting him completely to navigate them through the floor. There was something about that, that made his heart swell in joy.

 

“Orion mentioned needing another foot in Eastern Europe. That man, while retired, is a prominent figure with known connections to Muggle leaders and, I assume, wizarding leaders as well. He’s a good middle ground.”

 

He laughed, catching the attention of some of the couples around them.

 

“And here I thought it was just because of his impressive mustache. Say, love, do you think I’d look good with one?” He bit his tongue as he noticed the flash of sadness in her eyes before it vanished, her face never betraying her. Their bond still content and warm. It crushed him, snuffing out the joy he had felt just a moment ago. His goddess could be so cruel.

 

“Hmm, maybe with a beard. I think you’d look handsome either way.”

 

That little smirk, the way her tongue ran over her lips, struck him to his core, his body heating in delight as her teasing eyes riled him. His emotions were all over the place as he simply flowed to her whims, deliriously happy now as he turned her about the room. In the back of his mind, he celebrated, as his eyes had caught an overwhelming amount of golden peonies scattered about the manor.

 

 

“They do make a handsome couple; it’s a shame, though…” Madame Roxlie snarked as she waved her fan, quietly covering her smirk as the other ladies around her paused. Eyes widening as some nodded along. Others simply waited, faces blank as they turned their attention to Walburga, sitting across from them. No one really knew what to make of the witch, especially not after years of her very opinionated rants.

 

 

“I heard both girls are quite fetching, enough to have snagged another pureblood family… almost as if they had planned it.” Mrs. Luxenburg gossiped as her eyes followed a flash of dark red hair in the crowd. There was a murmur of surprise; more eyes turned to watch the other sister charm the potter boy.

 

“Magic’s will is never shameful; however, I do wonder about the state of society when a witch who’s failed to carry on her line and another who’s been found to step outside her home to the same less than savory company she speaks of—dares to think they are qualified to speak harshly against the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.” Walburga’s hiss pierced the group of witches, their fans snapping open to hide the brilliant flush of embarrassment.

 

“I meant no disrespect, Madame Black—I didn’t think,” Madame Roxlie stuttered as her fan shook.

“Yes, you didn’t think; that much is clear.” Walburga refused to look at them as she stood, gently smoothing out her robes as she set her drink down on a passing tray. She had always been taller than many witches, her form just as imposing as any other black as she finally turned her haunty gaze on the group. Delighting in how their faces crumbled.

 

Turning to return to her husband’s side, she combed through the knowledge she had on both women’s houses. Maybe buying out their husbands’ companies would teach them to “think” in the future.

 

The set changed as they twirled about; Sirius pouted as he was forced to switch partners, his eyes narrowing as a flash of blond stepped in behind him, a large hand swallowing Hermione’s as Lucius Malfoy took her from him. This dreadful family seemed determined to harass him at every turn. He added it to his list as he saw his aunts Dorea and Lucretia snickering into their fans off to the side of the dance floor. His cousin Narcissa forced his gaze away as she led him into the first steps of the dance; it was a subtle rebuke. No witch should have to force her partner to lead.

 

“Do not worry, Siri; he was threatened; he’ll be nothing but polite,” she drawled, eyes knowing as she smirked.

“Trained him already, have you? What a shame, I’d be more than happy to hex some sense into him.” Sirius sneered, eyes still focusing on their dancing forms, rage building as he noticed the slight paleness of her face. Once again Narcissa pulled him into the next step, another rebuke.

 

“Tsk tsk, Sirius, when did you get such a violent streak? You’re starting to remind me a bit of Bella.” She chided as she allowed him to roughly move her about; at least he was leading properly this time. Smiling when he winced after she intentionally stepped on his toe.

 

“Why so surprised, cousin? I am a Black, after all.” She nearly stopped then, as she looked into his darkening eyes. Sirius had grown so rapidly, he was no longer the gangly pretty boy that joked and fluttered about, raising the blood pressure of the entire family. He was nearly as tall as Lucius, who was several years his senior; his form, however, was much larger, as his broad shoulders and icy magic dominated the space between them. Bella was wild, vicious, and cruel, yet her words said in jest now took on new meaning as she studied him. He slowly morphed the longer the dance went on, darker and darker his magic bristled as he watched them. Moving now, fluidly about the room, she remained silent as she contemplated his words.

 

 

“I hope you are enjoying the ball, Miss Evans.” Lucious purred in that slimy false consideration that grated on her nerves. She was quickly becoming agitated, and the man really hadn’t spoken to her all that much. A part of her laughed; perhaps this was just an inherited talent of the Malfoys to get under her skin. Still feeling a bit unbalanced the further she got away from Sirius, she started to occlude, hoping that the dance would end rather quickly. His cloying perfume was starting to make her nauseous.

 

“It has been a rather interesting event, I must say.” Her tone even as her face remained neutral. It wasn’t praise or blatant dismissal, but disinterest was always the greater insult. She moved, slightly throwing off the rhythm of the dance. He moved to compensate, his displeasure shining brightly in his eyes. She calculated the path as they moved; if she was correct, they would end near the hallway that led to the third library.

 

“One would think, considering your background, you’d be more interested in wizarding society, especially something as significant as the annual Malfoy ball.” He quipped, tightening his hold on her hand. She ignored it, riling him further. Powerful wizards like him had always felt they were entitled to praise and awe.

 

“Significant? Oh, dear, I fear this is quite similar to the Ghillies Ball, which the Muggle queen hosts annually. However, the charmed ceiling does give this a bit of an edge. But I fear the Black Manor still holds my highest regard.” She hummed, slightly enjoying the new red tint filling his face. He didn’t need to know she had never gone to the Queens Ball, nor that this was one of the most beautiful ballrooms she had ever been in.

 

Her body moved on autopilot. Lucius wasn’t as gentle as Sirius, but he led similarly. Turning her head toward the ceiling, she faltered in her steps. There, standing above them all, was a flash of black, of wild curls and sickly pale skin. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering as she watched them dance. The black-haired man next to her had his back turned, but she knew deep in her core that it was Voldemort. She needed to leave; this was the time to move as she spotted Abraxas Malfoy step up to speak with Riddle; she snapped down her mental shields as the song came to an end. Barely acknowledging Lucius as she informed him she needed to head to the powder room. Her heart was racing as she calmly made her way into the crowd, past the boundaries.She hoped Sirius wouldn’t panic when he realized she had stepped out. Once secluded enough, she whispered a silent point-me.

 

Disillusioning herself as her light golden arrow guided her down several narrow hallways, spitting her out in front of thick oak doors. They were rather plain in her opinion as she turned and checked for portraits, for any hint of prying eyes. When she found none, she moved to raise the hem of her dress and pulled her wand from her thigh holster. She quickly scanned it for wards or detection alerts, sighing in relief when she found none. Hesitating just a moment before placing her hand on the door. When nothing happened, she quickly opened it, slipping inside.

 

She screamed internally, biting on her tongue. Of course the Malfoy’s 3rd library would be obnoxiously gorgeous and overwhelmingly impressive. No wonder the family oozed pretentiousness. She allowed herself a moment to admire the large, towering walls and spiraling staircases. Her irritation grew as she passed several shelves; her eyes couldn’t help but catch the sheer volume of first editions. Those greedy bastards. She remained disillusioned as she pulled the map from her beaded bag; she had glamoured it as a flower on her waist. Unraveling, she breathed deeply as she noticed the diary remained in the same location—second wall on the left, third row.

 

Her magic branched out, flooding the room as she got closer. Sure enough, the dark, vile tint of Riddle’s Horcrux radiated from the shelf in front of her. She held her breath as she saw the black, unmarked journal resting between Merlin’s Conquests of Early Wizarding Society and Wizarding Rome’s Greatest Emperors: The Reign of Marcus Aurelius. She snorted. Of course Riddle was the type of megalomaniac that would think his tainted soul piece was just as important. Quickly pulling a handkerchief from her bag, she wrapped it around the spine of the journal and pulled. The insidious tendrils of the dark magic caressed her mental barriers, pressing harder each moment she held it. Quickly summoning the lament box, she opened it and placed the diary inside with the others. The soft groan of their harmonization startled her. They had never… made sounds together before.

 

Her mind raced as she moved, packing everything away as she strode from the library. They had never been collected and stored together. Could the soul pieces… be communicating? They were sentient in a way. She closed the library doors, whispering another point-me as she hurried back to the ballroom.Cursing the size and confusing layout of the manor. This was not good, not good at all. They had never figured out the true extent of their connections, nor whether or not Riddle could feel when they were destroyed. Everything had happened so quickly in the end that she had never stopped to really examine this aspect. Fuck.

 

As the sounds of the ballroom filled the hallway she was in, she slowly dropped her disillusion, stopping only to check her appearance in a passing mirror. She was flushed, hair slightly out of place as she rushed to make it back. She almost screamed as she turned around a corner and ran face first into a firm body. Her shock died as Sirius’s icy magic connected with her. The tension drained out of her; she was safe.

 

“Princess, where the heck have you been? I was looking all over for you.” His eyes were wild as they scanned her body, and his large hands were shaking as they held her shoulders. She melted, guilt eating her alive as she moved to reassure him.

 

“I’m sorry, I left to find a bathroom and got a bit lost. I’m alright, though, I swear.”

 

“I promised I wouldn’t let you out of my sight, love.” He sighed as he gave her another once-over. Not believing her entirely as he moved to take her arm. Slowly walking them both back into the ballroom. Her heart was beating in exhilaration from his touches; she moved to pull his hand to her lips, giving it a kiss as she leaned into his hold. Reminding herself this deception was necessary, that it was to keep him safe. It helped but didn’t completely absolve her guilt.

 

“Come, there is an odd little wizard in the corner here that might be singing to a favorite Muggle tune of yours.” He whispered conspiratorially.

“Did you by any chance—” her question died on her tongue as she started to giggle. Moving to hide her face in the crux of his arm as they got closer. She ignored the creeping anxiety; she had done it, stolen the Horcrux. It was securely locked away; nothing, no one, would find out. She repeated this over and over in her mind until she settled enough to continue to enjoy the night.

 

There, with a terrified look of horror and flushed face, was Mr. Carrow, belting out Bohemian Rhapsody off-key to several startled witches and wizards around them, trying to make sense of the lyrics. Mrs. Carrow had promptly abandoned her husband once she realized he’d been cursed. Rushing off to find her son-in-law Abraxas in the hope he could counter it.

 

“You’ll ruin your appetite if you snack too early, Black.” Severus’s amused drawl broke their laughter as he moved to greet them both. Sirius only smiled, clapping Severus on the back as they watched the frantic host try to corner Carrow once he had started moving into a dance. The band ignored the commotion as Viola Malfoy, née Carrow, gestured for another dance song to be played as she watched her father drop low as he shook his head to the song.

 

“Severus, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! Come dance with me.” Hermione asked between giggles, offering her hand to him while ignoring the searing look of betrayal on Sirius’s face.

 

“I’d be honored,” his voice soft as he took in her appearance. Gently taking her hand, he led her to the dance floor, laughing as he watched Sirius make a slicing motion against his neck. The dog was easy to tease.

 

“You do look beautiful tonight, Hermione.” He uttered as he guided them.

“You don’t have to butter me up, Sev. But thank you. You look handsome yourself.”

He laughed.

 

“No, who’s buttering up whom? hmm.”He raised a brow.

“Nothing but the truth, I swear.” She teased.

 

“Black must have been a poor escort for you to be this drunk so early into the night.”

He yelped when she stomped on his foot; it quickly morphed into a chuckle as he noticed the pout on her face.

 

“I’m not drunk, and I certainly mean it when I say you look handsome, Sev.” His heart stuttered as he drank in the sincerity on her face, in the way he couldn’t help but notice how she glowed under the light. He could only nod in response as he led her through another step. A small hint of guilt on his face when his eyes connected with Sirius’s.

 

As they twirled about, he couldn’t help but notice Lily was in the far corner of the room, happily chatting with James. Her emerald eyes struck him when they narrowed as she watched them dance.

 

The Evans would be the death of him.

 

He was surprised when he realized he didn’t mind the thought as much as he should.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

He swirled his drink as he watched the figures dancing below. His finger tapped against his glass as he watched the movements of the guests as they broke off into groups. Dumbledore was flushed as he spoke with several blood traitor families, all groups known to be aligned with his political faction. The supreme mugwump’s attention, however, was focused on the growing mix of witches and wizards flocking to the Black couple. He chuckled into his drink when he noticed a few of Dumbledore’s cronies had left his side.

 

There was a shift, a growing power gap as the couple drew more and more into their orbit. His mind picking up the way certain families acted within their boundaries. The way they deferred to the young wizard, the way they bowed their heads in reverence to the witch. Sirius Orion Black III, Bellatrix’s blood traitor cousin who had somehow claimed the allegiance of the Head of House and the mudblood he had chosen to court, Hermione Evans. He turned his head as he drank in her form—certainly she was pretty, something that caught many wizards eyes, but beauty didn’t erase muddy blood. Hailed as the brightest witch of her age from gossip gathered from Hogwarts. Yet, good marks didn’t exactly ensure competence or ability. Regurgitating facts could certainly rank you in the top spot these days. His followers children had reported a slight violent streak, but nothing that could determine the extent of her skills.

 

But he couldn’t deny that there was a certain familiarity in her features that drew his attention. He didn’t like things he didn’t understand, and this familiarity confused him.

 

It clicked into place. She was the key. He wanted the Black families allegiance, and she held the heir’s heart. The Head followed the heir. It was only logical that he needed to obtain her to obtain the rest. Leverage that could bend them into kneeling. Perhaps it would be more effective than Bella’s threats and Walburga’s flimsy vow.

 

“Bella.”

 

“Yes, my lord.”

 

“Start looking into Hermione Evans.”

 

Bellatrix bristled before spitting out her reply.

 

“As you wish, my lord.”

Notes:

Hello, lovelies! I hope you had a wonderful Halloween. Thank you for your patience. I had intended to post sooner, but it just didn't work out. Not only that, but I thank you all again for reading and commenting. It's always so difficult to not give away the game when someone guesses something right! Thank you all again; you make my day. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 45: Moonlight Feels Right

Summary:

Every experienced farmer knows, sometimes you need to rip out things, from root to stem

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

TW: Graphic torture, threats against children, coercion

---

“We were promised sufferings. They were part of the program. We were even told, ‘Blessed are they that mourn,’ and I accept it. I’ve got nothing that I hadn’t bargained for. Of course it is different when the thing happens to oneself, not to others, and in reality, not imagination.”― C.S. Lewis

---

July 27th, 1975 Undisclosed location

 

The air tonight felt crisp as Severus made his way back to the cabin; the adrenaline of the first hunt was catching up to him. Ambition was a trait that was highly valued in his house, so Sirius’s desire to increase their interrogations filled him with a silent pride. He was chosen, trusted to stand beside him, to hold the line as they ripped secrets from the minds of unbelievers. As they carved fear into the bones of Riddle’s followers. He scourgified the blood from his robes as he waited on Sirius. The others had already returned, having gotten the signal that fresh prey had arrived. In the corner of his eye, he saw a massive form emerge from the underbrush, his mind taking in the differences. Slowly, as their hunts progressed, Sirius’s form gained more muscle, sharper teeth, and wilder eyes. His magic was more volatile and dominating, nearly tangible as it swallowed the surrounding light. He wondered, for a moment, if the stories were true. For anyone who encountered a grim, death was sure to follow. For Death conquered all. If it did, all he wished was to make a name for himself, a place high above those who had looked down upon him. Then he would go willingly, go with a smile on his face as death consumed him.

 

The sharp crack of a neck pierced the silence. Sirius sighed in relief as he rolled his head, his large hands coming to rub the spot between his neck and shoulders as he walked further into the light.

 

“That last one tasted like shit.” He spat as he got closer to the door. His eyes were shining as he looked at Severus. Covered in blood he hadn’t bothered to clean, Severus laughed as he scourgified him. The wizard always waited until someone else decided to clean the blood from him; a small part of him believed he might like the feel of it clinging to his skin.

 

“I guess Bulgarian fare grates against your pureblood palate.”

 

Sirius let out a barking laugh, shoulders shaking as he tried to stifle his amusement.

 

“Well, I am partial to French and British dishes.”

“What a shame then, the next one is German; hopefully you’re up for trying another new dish.”

 

Sirius’s grin was vicious as he held open the door to the shack for both of them. Gesturing for Severus to go first, he uttered his reply.

 

“I’ve heard great things about Rouladen; perhaps this one will taste better.”

 

The sound of their boots stepping on the wooden floor acted as a soothing melody in his ears as the screams echoing from the room at the end of the hall bounced on the barren walls. The pressure of the mask against his face steadied him as he pulled the handle, opening the door to the sight of another masked wizard ripping a dagger from the thigh of the bound prey. He was firing off curses in a language he couldn’t understand, his face pale and bruised as he hissed and struggled against his restraints. Severus mused that it might be beneficial to learn another language; there might be context he missed, or surely he’d be equally entertained as the others. The member closest to the wall quipped back something in the prey’s native tongue. The way his face turned purple had him chuckling.

 

“Ah, finally, we started a bit without you. It seems, however, this one is a bit tougher than the last.” Alphard lamented as he studied the blade in his hand, twirling it as he stepped back.

 

“It’s actually been a bit funny; the only thing this wretch has said is that grandmère is a roaring cunt. Something I would have to agree with. She was dreadful.” Arcturus chuckled as he leaned against the back wall. The masks concealed their voices to anyone not wearing one.

 

Before Sirius could move to start, Severus grabbed his sleeve.

 

“I’d like to try something tonight.”

“Oh, trying to spice it up a bit? How daring.” Sirius quirked back.

 

Severus groaned, letting go of his sleeve before digging into his pocket and pulling out an unmarked black journal. Sirius whistled in delight as he ushered them over to the table. Both laughing as the German wizard screamed out more curses as Alphard tossed the dagger near his legs, the sharp thump repeated over and over as he summoned the dagger back only to throw it again.

 

“I haven’t seen this baby in a while; I nearly forgot you had it.” Sirius muttered as he bounced on the heels of his feet, his excitement palpable as he impatiently waited.

 

“I’ve been developing something I think would work best for this. The unforgivables leave a scent. I’m sure you’ve noticed it on the others.” He claimed while waiting for confirmation. Sirius nodded; his scrunching nose was a telling sign. Although they used different wands, the dark magic lingered in their system for days after. The animagus within them both balked at the tangy, bitter scent on the others.

 

“Not to mention the cost… Riddle’s followers are vast; should we capture even a small portion, we’ll all be half mad by then. If we aren’t already…” he grumbled, opening the journal and smacking Sirius’s hand away when he tried to stop on another page.

 

“The only drawback is that the caster has to be skilled in legilimency. While yes, everyone here is, it is still a rare skill. If you ever delegated this to others, you’d need to make sure to have someone on standby.” He rushed out as he watched Sirius’s eyes move over his writing. He felt nervous as he waited; while he had been asked to join, Sirius or one of the other members always dictated the flow of the hunt.

 

Something bloomed in his chest as he noticed the smirk building on his face. Was it pride, or was it simply happiness to be considered? He wasn’t sure which.

 

“You, bloody brilliant wizard. This is perfect.” Severus grunted in relief as Sirius forced him into a side hug. He groaned internally, still uncomfortable with physical affection, but he wouldn’t dare mention it now—the scent of blood and fear in the air always made Sirius less predictable, and that was dangerous. With a wave of his hand, the others came forward, crowding around the table as Sirius directed them to read.

 

Arcturus hummed in surprise when he read the striking script; the breakdown of each wand movement, each syllable, and inflection spoke of a highly intelligent mind. The prince boy just might be a genius; once more, he could only praise Mother Magic for guiding his family’s heir—one ally like this was worth dozens of wizards.

 

Orion remained silent as he read; the churning in his gut filled him with a wild thrill. He had seen a mind like this before—another Slytherin, decades ago. The dark lord’s work was so similar in a way, immensely profound and equally horrifying. He chuckled to himself as he contemplated the fact his life was filled with frighteningly brilliant half-bloods.

 

Alphard glanced down at the book; he wasn’t as interested as the others, not until he read the passage about the spell’s effect. To be capable of such mastery, to separate the conscious and subconscious mind, trapping the victim in a nightmare curated by the caster, was divine. What vicious little wizards his cousin kept.

 

When each finished, they patted Severus on the back as an offering of silent recognition and approval before moving back into position.

 

“Come on, you beautiful mastermind, let’s have some fun.” The smile Sirius gave him was infectious.

 

He moved closer to the struggling wizard, his wand raised as Sirius slipped next to his side. His hand made a violent downward slash before arching up into a curving spiral as he uttered the curse—

“Infernum luctus.” He was pulled instantly into the mind of the wizard; unlike legilimency, he did not need eye contact, nor did the mind’s natural barriers protect against the sharp intrusion. Slowly he watched as the walls around the wizard’s “self” closed, trapping his essence into madness as he tricked him into believing he was being cruciod. His mind crafting the stage, modifying the details as he tightened his hold. Sirius whistled once again as he admired his translucent form.

 

“This is so different, it’s almost like we’re in a Pensieve.” He exclaimed, delighted as he wandered into the cloud of memories lingering in the edges of the open space unguarded, quickly navigating the wild emotions and thoughts as he tore through each looking for the information they wanted.

 

It was so easy, no more fighting against the mind’s internal magic; it was as if the wizard had lost his soul, his brain only a vessel for the memories it had collected.

 

Time drifted by, each second marked by Sirius’s ruthless search, scenes changing rapidly as he dug deeper into the life of the Death Eater.

 

Both paused as a memory flashed. It was the wizard bowing at the feet of Tom Riddle as he reported on the movement of the German forces. It seemed like this one was hiding the jackpot.

 

“I’ve got what we needed. This is remarkable, feathers. Fuck, you name it and it’s yours.” Sirius mumbled as his form started to dissipate.

 

Severus pulled out; he was still able to hold the curse as Sirius gushed on how effective his spell was to the others. Completely ignoring the mess it made of their prey. He was blushing from the praise under his mask. The wizard was still screaming, thrashing in his chair as he soiled himself, begging for death—deciding that the next part of the night was about to begin, he slowly ended the curse.

 

The wizard whimpered in his seat, eyes red and puffy as he sniffled and sobbed. The stench that clung to him soured the mood. Severus vanished the mess; blood he didn’t mind, but everything else just made things a bit too disgusting for his tastes.

 

“What, what was that?? What did you do to me?” Finally the wizard spoke English, broken and raspy as he struggled to breathe, eyes shaking as he bounced from one masked figure to another.

 

Sirius laughed as he moved to kneel down, taunting the wizard as he was just outside the reach of his swinging boot.

 

“We’ve stolen your secrets, Mr. Wagner. And now we’re about to play a little game of hide-and-seek. It’s a Muggle favorite of mine.”

 

“Du verdammter Arschficker! You can’t do this! People will be looking for me, the ministry will investigate—”

 

“As of this moment, you, Mr. Wagner, will be spouting off your true thoughts on werewolves outside of a cozy little bar in Knockturn Alley. As a foreign wizard, it’s a shame you’ll make that mistake since the bar is one that just happens to be in the heart of werewolf territory. I know a fellow who won’t take too kindly to that.”

 

The jeers grew as he struggled against the others as they lifted him up from his chair. Sirius rose, crowding the wizard as he tried to shrink back. Terror flooded Wagner’s face as Sirius got closer. Slapping his face lightly before cooing in a patronizing manner.

 

“And when they find your body, you’ll just be another notch under Fenrir Greyback’s belt.”

 

He was screaming again, deep shrieks of fear, before it was cut off by the stunner shot into his side. They dragged the body out as they moved down the narrow hallway; once outside, the others levitated the unconscious wizard as they walked off deeper into the forest. Sirius set a timer; it was always a fifteen-minute head start.

 

“This might be the last hunt for a while. We’ve got most of the information we needed. But you’ve made my day brighter; that curse of yours is precisely what we’ll need for the next part.” Sirius made small talk as his eyes began to glaze over. He cracked his neck once again, the sound echoing in the silence of the night. His body began to tremble in delight as his hand reached up and pressed against his neck.

 

“Excellent.” Severus murmured as he felt the magic building between them, the bond opening, syncing their anticipation, their bloodlust.

 

Sirius’s wand vibrated.

 

“Alright, time to get a move on this hunt. I’m jonesing for a cigarette.”

 

Severus’s heart beat as adrenaline surged once more, his magic boosted by the wave that burst out of Sirius as he transformed. The terrifying form of the Grim lunged forward, racing into the night. He transformed, taking to the skies as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

 

It took a few moments to find him, his struggling form ripping through the brush as he ran. A sharp, piercing cry rang out from his beak as he dove, trailing closer to their prey. Soon his eyes spotted him, the black mass that edged the horizon. Waiting for his prey—crouched low in the darkness as he allowed the terrified wizard to gain even more distance before taking off.

 

The hunt was on. And he loved every minute of it.

 

August 6th, 1975 Potter Apartment

 

“Why exactly am I here, Charlus?”

 

Moody grunted as he looked around the sparsely furnished room. What it lacked in serviceable chairs, it made up for in bodies.

 

The curious faces of the Prewitt twins watched the exchange as Edgar Bones whispered into the ear of Kingsley Shacklebolt. There were several familiar faces: fellow Aurors, fellow members of the Wizengamot, and members of the Order of the Phoenix.

 

“Everyone knows you’re the highest ranking after Dumbledore, Moody. I need you to understand our situation has shifted. One that is concerning enough to warrant a meeting like this.” Charlus chose his words carefully. His brown eyes studied the normally unshakable man’s face. He was paling, his cheek muscle twitching as he moved closer, trying to create some privacy.

 

“Is this about our young friend?”

“Yes. One who assured me they will always be our friend, always ready to take up the mantle should the need arise, despite what was claimed.”

 

“Fuck. This is bad. Dumbledore isn’t a wizard you want to go against, Potter.”

 

“Considering the severity of what our young friend showed us, it’s a necessity. We cannot allow this fellow to go unchecked.”

 

“Have you made any headway?” Moody grunted as he stepped back, shuffling his robes as he checked the faces of those around him.

 

“No, and I’m sure you haven’t either.” Moody’s harsh nod was all the confirmation he required. Failure was all that the order had achieved: failure to capture Death Eaters, failure to prevent the abductions and killings. Failure to make any actual progress toward finding the Horcruxes. Everyone’s frustrations were at an all-time high.

 

“We had access to the bloody map; we literally could have obtained them long ago, but now we’re stuck in limbo wondering just how many more our friend might have gotten or whether the madman decided he wanted more trinkets.” Moody barked out before lowering his voice as the faces around them became even more curious.

 

“What’s the price?” He uttered, pulling them both closer to the waiting group.

“Silence, complete silence.” Charlus mumbled as he pulled a parchment from his robes.

“Of course, what a smart lass. I wonder if she would ever consider joining the Auror corps; she’d turn everyone on their head.”

 

Charlus sputtered, holding back his laugh as he called everyone over to the table they stood next to.

 

“Thank you all for coming.” Charlus boomed, his form straightening as he captured the attention of the group.

 

“We are living in dire times, as I am sure you all are aware. The increase in attacks and disappearances is weighing heavily on us. Riddle is moving, yet we have nothing tangible; he flickers in the background as his Death Eaters wreak havoc.”

 

“Hear, hear,” rang out, Gideon shouting as he banged his hand on the table, startling the witch next to him. Fabian, on his other side, joined in, rallying the group around them.

 

“Everyone here understands the gravity of what we are facing. Tonight I ask only for one thing. To place your trust in me, in my family, as I ask for a vow. The information revealed tonight cannot be shared with anyone outside this room.” He waited, allowing his words to sink in.

 

“Wait, not even Dumbledore?” Amelia Bones gasped in surprise. Eyes widened as she noticed the growing shock on the faces around her as they too realized what she did. As they noticed their missing leader.

“Unfortunately not; however, the information I have will explain why. If any of you don’t feel comfortable with this, please let me know.” Charlus commanded, his tone cutting as he spoke; he was starting to sweat as he took in their unsure faces.

 

“And what will happen if we decide not to go along with whatever this is?” Kingsley questioned, his body shifting into a more defensive posture as his dark eyes moved from Charlus to Moody.

 

“Then this will all be a dream, a moment in time you won’t ever remember.” Moody growled, his wand tapping in the palm of his hand.

 

“That serious then?” Kingsley grumbled as he moved to sit; he eyed the wobbly chair, unconvinced it would hold him, before deciding to trust it.

 

“I’m afraid so.” Charlus proclaimed, slowly unrolling the parchment in his hand and pulling a quill from his robes. When no one refused or asked to leave, he moved on.

 

“Everyone must sign this parchment; it will bind us all to secrecy. Do not be tempted to reveal the information you learn here tonight to anyone outside this room, or the price will be lethal.”

 

There were sharp inhales, but the occupants of the room moved to sign, one by one names filled the list until it was finally Charlus and Moody’s turn. Charlus prompted Moody to sign first. Hermione had given him permission to share some of the information he was privy to; her only other condition was that he had to be the last to sign. She assured him that her magic would do the rest.

 

His hand was shaky as he finished his name. As soon as he set down the quill, the parchment shot into the air, shaking as it started to multiply. People scrambled back as Moody drew his wand, narrowing his eyes as magic filled the room. Charlus’s face remained impassive as he watched the duplicates begin to separate, shooting out to land in front of each individual member.

 

His was the last. His heart was beating in his chest as he plucked the parchment out of the air. His legs were trembling as he nearly dropped reading it.

 

CHARLUS POTTER

KILLED AFTER BEING AMBUSHED IN DIAGON ALLEY NOVEMBER 8th, 1975

 

WIFE DOREA POTTER

KILLED IN HOME INVASION AFTER HOUSE WARDS FELL NOVEMBER 8th, 1975

 

Second-in-command Auror Lieutenant Devox Rawlings was coerced into giving Charlus’s routine and location after the abduction of his youngest child, Marly Rawlings.

 

Marly Rawllings—located in a seaside shack in Penzance.

 

Objective recommendation: Covert operation to retrieve Miss Rawlings and other children being used as leverage. Enter Lieutenant Rawllings and family into protective magic custody. Location recommended outside of UK borders, Rawlings has been marked by Fenrir Greyback.

 

 

“What the hell is this, Potter?” Nera Hodges screamed as she shook the parchment in her hands, tears streaming down her face as she rushed forward. Moody, although pale, moved to block her.

 

“Dumbledore was originally in contact with a seer…” He stuttered, his heart racing as he uttered the word. The bond on his wrist remained inactive. He knew she had given him permission, but the thought of instant death was difficult to overcome.

 

“They were able to provide critical information into how we would be able to stop Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters. Dumbledore, however, has chosen to exclude them, to tell us that they no longer wish to work with us.” He slowly rebuilt his calm, his voice gaining strength as he took in each individual’s pale face. Mrs. Hodges crumpled to the floor, her hands still shaking as she looked back to her parchment. Moody silently edged closer to the wall, his hand coming up to rub his left eye.

 

“After speaking with them, it has come to light that Dumbledore lied, intentionally excluding them after not providing information he wanted about the location of an artifact he wanted to obtain.”

 

There were gasps around the room, looks of disbelief as each slowly returned the parchments in their hands.

 

“Tonight is about forging trust.” His mind was rapidly pushing through the shock as he broke down the next steps he would take. His trust in Dumbledore crumbled to ruin as the date of his death seared into his mind.

 

 

August 9th, 1975 Undisclosed location

 

“Dammit, you bum, get up!” Sirius yelled as he stomped through the halls of Alphard’s estate. His mood was already sour; his skin was starting to itch as his magic grew more wild and irritated the longer he was separated from Hermione. The Evans had decided to take a family trip after the ball. His heart was in another country, and each day only reminded him of that fact. The journal helped once again, his only lifeline as he battled withdrawals, but it wasn’t enough. He still kept their photo in this robe pocket closest to his heart. He rubbed it, soaking in the rush of warmth that flooded his system.

 

He continued storming through the house, sneering at the curious eyes of his uncles portraits. One had the audacity to giggle at his ire as he moved closer to his uncle’s bedroom.

 

“Deary, I would wait a bit—” It cautioned him as he slammed his hand down on the handle of the door. He ignored it as he turned the knob and kicked the door open. He was about to yell again, but his words died on his lips as he was stunned. His skin flushed, a bright blush rising to his cheeks as he gawked. There, snuggled up next to Alphard’s side, was a completely naked wizard who, by the pleasant smile on his face, enjoyed the fact his uncle cuddled him to his side and kept him there by clutching his shapely bum.

 

His mind drew a blank as he heard the distinctive gait of his father also coming down the hall.

 

Oh, this will be brilliant.

 

“ALPHARD, YOU SHIT, GET UP, WE HAVE TO GO!” Orion boomed as he moved closer.

 

Alphard jerked in his sleep, groaning before he pulled the other wizard closer, his grip tightening. Sirius simply turned around, his face bright red as he started to giggle. The noise caused Alphard to crinkle his nose as his eyes slowly opened. He blinked once, then twice, before moving to sit up, his groggy focus narrowed on the shaking form near the doorway.

 

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, ALPHARD! GET UP!” Orion yelled again as he turned into the room. When he saw his son and the naked forms on the bed he just hissed out a loud sigh. Rubbing his temples as he pulled Sirius by his robes out of the room and into the hall.

 

“Alphard, please, you knew we were on a tight schedule today.”

“Good morning-”

“No, it’s night, Alphard.”

 

“Well, good evening, as you can see I also had a… tight schedule to address.”

 

“Ugh, Merlin, give me strength. If it’s not you, it’s that harpy Cassiopeia. Please just get dressed and send the tart away. We’ve got to move.”

 

The naked wizard scoffed as he groggily rubbed the sleep from his eyes, kissing Alphard on the cheek before standing and looking for his missing robes. Alphard simply leaned back against his headboard, arms crossing behind his head as he admired the wizard’s bare form.

 

“Cousin, you know I have a voracious sweet tooth.” He purred as he delighted in the way it made the wizard blush and Orion pale.

 

Sirius’s small giggle broke into loud barking laughs from outside the door. Hearing the noise, Alphard blushed, his hands gripping his sheets tightly as he looked down in a poor attempt to find his scattered robes—Alphard was a scandalous rake that had simply forgotten the entire concept of embarrassment and shame as soon as he got his dick wet. To find out the laughter of his young cousin finally knocked some recognition of the concepts back into his mind was something Orion found immensely amusing as Alphard moved to get dressed. Orion stood impatiently while he tapped his foot; every so often he would pull his pocket watch from his robes and loudly mention the time. That got an eye roll from both wizards.

 

When Sirius could finally control himself, he peeked back into the room, slightly relieved his uncle and the wizard were somewhat clothed. He was a Black, and while they generally had no shame, he didn’t exactly want to see his uncle and his lover in the buff on a random evening. A warning was usually given; it was a Black custom for these types of things. The beast in his chest growled in discontent at the mere thought of someone walking in on Hermione and him. Blushing at the thought of more—they hadn’t gone much farther than snogging and some heavy petting, but that didn’t curb the anger that arose. She was his, which meant he was the only one who would ever see her like that, and if she wanted to torture him and show her body off… well, that was fine. He could just obliviate the perverts after.

 

His mind spiraled into distraction as he wondered how feasible a mass obliviate would be to create. Note to self, bug Remus about the logistics.

 

The wizard winked at Alphard before muttering out a soft “Owl me.” Alphard laughed, walking over to give him a bruising kiss and a slap on the ass. Sirius’s brows rose, nodding to Alphard in appraisal. Orion exhaled, his foot tapping faster. Sirius smiled at the wizard who passed him in the hall. He was a short fellow, a bit feminine in the face but oddly a good match considering his uncle’s features. Once his steps could no longer be heard, Sirius decided to snoop, much to the annoyance of his father.

 

“So uncle, does the wizard have a name, or was he not impressive enough to invite for yule?”

 

“Actually I’m not too sure his name, which is a shame; he had quite an impressi—”

“ALPHARD NO,” Orion cried, rubbing his temples as he flicked off his son and his cousin as they both delved into laughter.

 

The three of them made it out of the room, Sirius entirely amused as his father tried to impress the importance of showing up on time to his uncle, who was clearly not paying him any mind as he picked at his nails. Right before they made it to the apparition point, Sirius startled both wizards as he whipped his body around, his wand arm coming up aggressively as he pointed in their direction.

 

“You fucker!” He snarled.

 

Ignoring their confusion, Sirius continued.

 

“I knew you were kissing that French wizard that Christmas in Paris! Mother hexed me silly for even suggesting it in front of the old biddies. You didn’t stop her even though it was true.”

 

Alphard yelped as he dodged the stinging hex Sirius lobbed toward him.

 

Orion groaned again, louder than normal.

 

“Sirius, while it’s not exactly prohibited, one must at least pretend to be looking for a wife in the eyes of wizarding society, and should the wizard remain a perpetual bachelor…” Orion trailed off.

 

“The blame falls on the wizard and not the family for his failure to ensure the bloodline continues.” Alphard finished as he forced his cheeks to remain still as he tried to prevent the smile threatening to bloom.

 

“Huh, well, you still could have done something, you git.”

 

“I’ll remember that for the next time you blurt out my business at a family function.”

 

“Enough, we’re late as it is, and none of you have to sit through the hissy fit Father throws after.” Orion grumbled as he forced them together, waiting just long enough to allow them both to conjure their hunting attire before pulling them in a side-along apparition.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

Once again the silver goddess blessed the night; moonlight shone down on the forest they arrived at. It was a small circular clearing surrounded by tall oaks that blocked the skies. Nestled in the middle of the clearing was a group of men. Several were dressed in dark robes and black masks as they held their wands out, silent and still—like ghoulish sentinels as they ignored the desperate pleading of the beaten prey kneeling at their feet.

 

The switch in Sirius was instantaneous, his eyes glowing under the moonlight as his imposing form grew. His walk was more commanding, his presence far more predatory as he scanned the herd corralled together. Severus stepped forward, their eyes connecting in instant understanding as he made his way to greet him. With a simple nod to all three wizards, he leaned in and reported what transpired while they awaited their arrival.

 

“These are some of Wagner’s men and some members of the snatching groups Riddle is putting together. We’ve already culled the ones too entrenched in the dogma.” He summoned a roll of parchment from his pockets, handing it over to Sirius. Smiling as he took the parchment and opened it up—he loved competent friends. It took only a few minutes as his glowing eyes rapidly scanned its contents before handing it back to Severus.

 

“Lets begin.”

 

Severus signaled to the others as he tucked the parchment back into his robes; a single masked wizard moved forward, leaning down to grab a sobbing wizard by the hair, dragging him along the grass before throwing him down at Sirius’s feet. This one’s face was barely recognizable with the amount of swelling and discoloration from their earlier “chat.”

 

Sirius crouched down, catching the attention of the pleading wizard. He paled in fear as his tears fell once more. Sirius’s head tilted as he studied the wizard, his magic building as he sneered at his snot-covered face. He waved his hand, a wandless sonorous falling in place.

 

“Please, please just let me go…”

 

“Now why would I do that, Klaus?” Sirius’s voice boomed through the clearing, startling the other hostages; their cries died, their struggling ceased as some turned to watch, others hid their faces behind their hands as if the night was nothing but a bad dream.

 

The wizard sucked in a breath before slamming his mouth closed; thick brows came together as his lips pursed, eyes narrowing as if his earlier acts of cowardice were forgotten—as if he had decided to be defiant after all.

 

How pointless.

 

“Klaus Muller, 45 years old, married to Angela Muller, née Schulz, March 5th, 1952. You have two very lovely daughters, set to attend Durmstrang soon. Emilia, 8, and Hanna, 10.”

Sirius paused to pull his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Taking out one and placing it in his mouth. Wandlessly lighting it as he drank in the scent of fear rolling off the wizard. Satisfaction shot through his veins as the wizard’s face crumbled back into despair—into submission. He inhaled deeply. Holding the smoke in his chest before exhaling, blowing it right in Muller’s face. Muller swallowed, eyes falling to the ground as the light within them slowly died.

 

“You’ve done alright doing Wagner’s dirty work, enough to send those lovely girls to a wizarding preparatory school in Mannheim. Although…”

 

He inhaled again, muscles twitching, as he gave the wizard a vicious smile.

 

“They walk the same way to school, only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, of course. The pay isn’t good enough for the whole week. They always stop for ice cream at that shop on the corner, don’t they?” he probed. Those dead eyes finally looked up, connecting with his. He tapped his finger against his thigh, once, then twice. Severus stepped behind Muller, his wand raised as he softly uttered the curse. Muller’s hands came up to his head, clawing and tearing at his face as he began to scream, deep visceral howls as if his soul was being torn apart. He fell completely to the floor as he thrashed and writhed, nails digging into his pale skin as blood streamed from his cheeks and neck. His magic spiraling, building before suddenly dying. Severus released him from the curse. When Muller began sobbing, Sirius reached forward, laughing as the man flinched, eyes wild and confused as he regained his awareness. He patted his trembling shoulder.

 

“What you saw could be the future. Presently, your wife and children think you’re visiting an old friend in Stuttgart instead of in another country.” He blew more smoke into his face as his hand tightened on his shoulder. Muller cried out as he dug his fingers into the cut underneath his hand.

 

“You have two options, Muller. Fealty or Death.”

 

The man choked as Sirius’s magic swelled, oozing out of him in a dark cloud, rising high as it blocked the moonlight, casting the clearing into darkness. His eyes glowing brighter—sharp, gold—as he slowly rose from his crouching position, standing tall as he slowly drew his wand.

 

“Choose.”

 

Muller scrambled forward, pushing onto his knees as he offered his hands up as if in prayer.

 

“God, please, please spare my family. I choose fealty.”

 

Sirius laughed in delight as he sent a slicing hex to one of his raised palms, savoring the way the blood spilled out, trickling down from his hand and onto his exposed arm. He never flinched, never looked away as he cut his palm.

 

He leaned forward, tightly gripping Muller’s cut hand with his own as he pulled the wizard up onto unstable legs. A floating parchment unraveled next to Sirius, the words glowing the same hazy golden color as his eyes.

 

“Then swear it.”

 

Muller shook as his eyes jumped to the parchment, his voice raw as he swore upon his magic.

 

“On my magic, I vow to pledge myself, my body, mind, and heart, to serve Sirius Orion Black III and the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. To extend that pledge to those he deems worthy, to raise my wand in defense, to deliver justice upon those they judge—” He swallowed, his breath shaky as the golden bonds started to shimmer and form around their hands.

 

“Enemies of the house. House Muller will preserve House Black’s will during times of peace and strife. Rally to their call in times of war. Through any hardship, House Muller will suffer no less than any other sworn companions. I bind my house to yours; may Mother Magic strike me dead, may Mother Magic curse me and mine should we fail to uphold our vow. So mote it be.”

 

The bond snapped, stinging both as the blood vanished and their wounds closed.

 

“You may leave. Expect to be contacted soon.” Sirius uttered as he dismissed him; the masked wizard that had dragged him over stepped forward once more, guiding Muller out past Sirius. Once the distinctive crack of the portkey sounded, he cracked his neck, rolling it before calling out.

 

“Next.”

 

 

August 17th, 1975 Lupin Cottage Ceredigion

 

Like a pestilence, suffering descended on the Lupin House once more. The weary home nestled in the Welsh highlands was no stranger to sorrows, a reluctant bedfellow to anguish and misfortune as its inhabitants fought against the cruelty of the hand they had been dealt.

 

Remus paced in his room as he tugged at his hair, tears streaming down his face as his sensitive hearing locked onto the sobbing cries of his mother and the stammering reassurances of his father. He was waiting; it was all he could do as the beast within him howled and snarled in rage. His green eyes phased between gold and green as he warred with the animalistic desires rising to the surface. He wanted to tear something apart, to dig his teeth in and snuff out the life of those pureblood bastards. The part of him that cried out in horror was muted as his blood boiled.

 

“Episky—shh shh darling, I’m so sorry, I know it hurts… Please…” Lyall’s soft voice filled his ears as he worked on healing his mother’s wounds.

 

“They said… I can’t get hurt… I won’t heal, not like I should..”

 

His heart was dissolving and hardening into stone as he listened to his mother’s tearful words. The Death Eaters had attacked the town his family normally visited. His parents had left him at home as they headed down earlier to his mother’s doctor appointment. He hadn’t complained then since his body was aching—the full moon was due in just a few days. Regret filled him; he should have gone regardless. His mother’s health had been declining for months: colds that she could never seem to get over, lethargy, and night sweats that turned into nightmares that woke the whole house.

 

She had been hurt in the fray; his father was wounded but fought long and hard enough to apparate them both back to the house. Because she was a Muggle, they could take her to St. Mungo’s—he couldn’t even go if he wanted to either. Because the wounds were magical in nature, they couldn’t take her back to the Muggles. Forced to rely on his father’s shaky healing skills.

 

“Come, darling, let’s get you to bed…”

 

Silence, an unnerving absence of sound as he paced. Anxiety built as he waited, as he cursed the darkness that crept into his mind, as the beast within him foamed as it fought him in frustration. He understood; finally, he understood.

 

The soft knocking at his window halted his feet, golden eyes snapping to the shadowy figure outside. He moved, rushing to push open the window—a large black Eurasian owl hovered on the windowsill, a shrunken box tied to its leg. He gently untied it, the owl dipped its head in a bow before flying off. The box grew as he turned to move to his bed.

 

He threw it down upon his comforter, the black box unadorned, as he leaned down to rip it open. Inside was a black mask etched with runes. Underneath were all black robes; his mind was already made up as he rushed to slip them on. At the bottom was a small slip of fabric, tightly wrapped around something.

 

He inhaled, picking up the mask and placing it over his face. The pressure helped calm him as the magic settled, securing it tightly. The burning desire to destroy filled him as he reached for the fabric, slowly peeling it back to show a bloody molar. How fitting. As soon as his fingers touched it, he felt a harsh pulling at his navel.

 

 

It was over just as quickly as it had begun; he gagged as he waited for the dizziness to fade. His pulse raced as the harsh scent of smoke and tangy iron filled his nostrils. There ahead, standing beneath a lantern, was Sirius. Smoking as he looked to the moon. Taking a step forward, he clung to his rage, to his despair—to his desperation as he got closer and closer.

 

Sirius turned, his eyes glowing as he gazed upon his shaking form. He looked like the devil in that moment, eyes enchanting, as the light illuminated his face, the skull mask hiding his features, yet his soul cried out in relief. His deep, commanding voice banished his apprehensions, for he understood.

 

 

“Come, the night has just begun.”

Chapter 46: Bohemian Rhapsody

Summary:

Sometimes the health of the gardener is crucial to the survival of the garden

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; this is my first fanfic

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“I learned to recognize the thorough and primitive duality of man; I saw that, of the two natures that contended in the field of my consciousness, even if I could rightly be said to be either, it was only because I was radically both.”― Robert Louis Stevenson

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August 17th, 1975 Undisclosed location

 

He had always struggled with the duality of his nature; unlike what Muggle philosophers debated, he did not fight against his opposing human nature but battled against the dark desires of his self and the primal entity housed within his mind and blood. His scales tipped further than any other as his destructive impulses blended with the wolf within.

 

Tonight, as he followed his Alpha further down a narrow, dark hallway, drenched in the scent of blood and agony, of death and dark magic, he made peace with his choice. Weariness lived within him, weighing down his limbs, putting pressure on his beating heart—he had sworn he’d never become a monster. Yet, if all he ever accomplished in life was using that monster within him to save others, perhaps it was worth his soul. No longer would he be a worthless werewolf but a loving son.

 

They moved together, steps in sync as they descended further; the light of the hallway seemed to dim the closer they got to the door at the end of the hall. His skin was tight across his body, his mouth salivating as his pupils shrunk, and the beast within him purred. Relaxing in his mind as it waited patiently, waiting for its chance.

 

There was a feeling in his chest that caused him to pause just outside the door.

 

“Tell me why you came tonight, Mooney.” Sirius’s low voice commanded.

 

He swallowed his growing unease as he fought the compulsive desire to answer him. Why? Why couldn’t he just let him take the jump?

 

“Mooney. I need to know, why did you come tonight? Why did you finally reach out to me?” His voice was softer now as he moved to lean his shoulder against his. The gesture and warmth that filled him brought tears to his eyes as he bit down tightly on his lips—blinking rapidly, he hoped to clear the building moisture and ease the stinging that had begun. He was tired of crying—felt chafed and thoroughly ravaged by his wild emotions.

 

“Because I finally understand…” He let out as he gave in to the compulsion. Hesitating because words held power, words held memories. Speaking his desires—his frustrations—felt like a further damnation of his being. Others would finally hear what always lived inside him, and that was terrifying enough.

 

“They almost killed her pads…” He sniffled, leaning into Sirius’s shoulder as he confessed.

 

“Dad barely patched her up, and the doctors say she’s… she’s sick. Got this thing that’s tearing her up from the inside.” He let out a weak laugh. The lupins, it seemed, were cursed to suffer from beasts taking over their bodies. Clenching his fists, he closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

 

“Cancer, they say, its some Muggle disease—but she, she hasn’t been healing right, hasn’t been recovering like she should. Fuck pads.” He shook as he started to curl inward, his legs trembling as he fell further. Sirius’s arms came up around him in support as he whimpered.

 

“What if she doesn’t recover? She’s a Muggle, so we can’t take her to St. Mungo’s—the Muggle doctors said the treatment is almost as bad as the disease sometimes. They might not have killed her outright, but they’ve tipped her scales, pushed her foot toward an early grave.” His voice was growing as his anger and rage mixed with his sorrow.

 

“She won’t be safe, and Dad won’t be safe. These bastards will just try again and again all because of blood, all because my father is a wizard that goes against everything they believe in… That I’m an abomination—they’ve done so much for me, Pads.” His mind tortured him with memories.

 

The terror on their faces the day he woke up in the hospital after being turned, the bags after bags of galleons exchanging hands for silence, for discretion, for forgetfulness. Move after move, his family made as they searched for a home remote enough to hide his differences from prying eyes. The times he sat outside their door late at night, hands tightly pressed against his mouth to stifle his heavy breathing, as he listened to his mother’s echoing sobs and his father’s tearful lies that everything would work out—that they’d find a way. The bitter, coiling scent of their disgust and shame when they realized they would be the ones caging their only son like an animal trapped within the basement of their home. Their faces the morning after his first change as they tried to hide their horror at seeing and understanding what he had done to himself.

 

The soft words of his mother’s optimism as she made him his favorite chocolate pancakes for breakfast, the silent comfort of his father as they sat together on their porch and watched the sunrise in the summers. The nights they read to him and filled his mind with adventure, with normalcy, and with hope. The way he felt their love in every touch, in every word and letter—the way they had never stopped fighting the world around him for his sake. Why couldn’t Sirius just let him fight for them?

 

He let out a soft sob as his tears finally fell. Sirius squeezed him tighter.

 

“Let me help them, please; let me finally do something for them, do something to protect them. To finally feel like I’m worthy of being their son—even if it damns me in the process.”

 

Sirius let him weep, let him fall apart in his arms, yet kept him standing, kept him grounded to the world around them with his steadying presence.

 

“You’re already worthy, mate.”

 

The sincerity flooding through their bond hit him as his heart clenched. Sirius really believed that; it was sobering, it was freeing, and he took a breath, one that filled him with hope instead of crushing him further.

 

“Don’t worry about your mum, either. I’ll figure something out.” He hugged him one last time before turning to lift his chin and removing his mask. He placed it into his hands before taking off his own. It was magic the way his face transformed, as it subtly shifted into the face of the friend he had always known.

 

His piercing eyes searched once more as he took in his haggard form.

 

“Look at me.” He softly uttered.

 

Bloodshot eyes met grey.

 

“We can turn around right now; I’ll send you home, and no one will ever know… because once you agree, that’s it, Remus. You’ll be changed in ways you might regret.”

 

Remus looked down, eyes catching the glint of red splatter on the legs of Sirius’s pants.

 

“You’re a worthy son, Remus, one of the best wizards I know.”

 

The timbre of his voice lowered—the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

 

“But I don’t need a good son. I don’t need a good wizard beneath the moonlight—I need a blood brother, a soldier. I require a wizard who I can trust not to falter when it gets dark. When it gets deadly.”

 

Sirius pushed a sandy curl off Remus’s sweaty forehead. Remus tightened the hold on his mask, his fingers rubbing against the runes carved into it. He knew Sirius was waiting for a response; he knew he was giving him an out—giving him a chance to really choose. It only steeled his resolve. He moved, placing the mask back on his face, his pulse racing as he was flooded with Sirius’s admiration, with his pride. The dazzling smile he gave him stole his breath as he placed the skull mask back on his face. Those haunting, glowing eyes peering out beneath the skull enchanted him; his hand rose, outstretched in offering.

 

“Death conquers all,”

The words filled the narrow hallway, charged with violent magic, pressing upon his shoulders, weighing upon his soul.

 

“Death… Conquers all.”

 

He reached and clasped their hands together as he returned the phrase.

 

Gasping in surprise as his mask glowed, magic snapping in his core. The deal was done, his soul the price, and as they both entered the room—as he sensed Severus waiting in understanding, as he was hit with the full force of the scene in front of him—he allowed that beast within his mind to rise. His canines lengthened as Sirius’s haunting laugh filled the room as the heavy wood door shut behind them.

 

August 20th, 1975 Evans Cottage

 

Drop after drop, rain fell against the greenhouse’s glass roof in a lazy, uneven pattern, as if the sky was unsure of its next move. Mixing between short bursts of power and gentle drizzle, it created a soft melody that filled the room, lulling her, soothing her disappointment as she leaned against the large stained glass windows. The summer had been filled with such highs, such beauty, that she had forgotten for a moment that things had started to spiral out of control. The Port de la Lune in Bordeaux was somewhere she had always wanted to visit, in this life and the last. Convincing her family to take a trip to France had been a breeze—Lily and Petunia jumped at the chance of exploring the French shopping districts, and her mother had squealed over the lists of wineries Nox had covertly slipped under her morning cuppa.

 

Her father, ever the history buff, had gruffly tried to hide his growing enthusiasm as she carefully listed the hundreds of different historical sites located in and around the district. While surrounded by centuries of history and beautiful craftsmanship—of architecture no longer created—her heart had ached as she read Sirius’s cheeky comments and soft confessions in her journal. Her mind had teased her with images, with the idea that it wouldn’t feel so muted if he had come along. Soon her skin began to itch, to feel taut across her bones as her mood and magic soured—she missed him dearly.

 

By the fifth day she had been hit with an overwhelming wave of anxiety that no amount of gentle denial and soft convincing could ever deter. There, under the imposing statue of Monument aux Girondins, a symbol of freedom, of breaking the chains that held liberty, she located the source of her unease. Riddle was moving, his forces consolidating, and worst of all—he had moved the cup. It was no longer held behind the boundaries of Lestrange Manor, but behind his blood wards, deep within the bowels of Riddle Manor. Her pulse had skyrocketed in that moment, for what need could he have to move it? Did it mean he would be checking on the others? Just what would happen if he knew just how many had been taken?

 

The snake was full of pride, but beasts became infinitely more dangerous when they felt threatened, when they felt cornered. What was stopping him from making another Horcrux? Perhaps this time something as inconspicuous as a grain of sand? He was still a man, still in complete control of that terrifying intelligence, and that’s what made him infinitely more dangerous than the snake-face monster of her past. Her hands had shaken that day as she tightly gripped the map, her only lifeline should he dabble in the dark arts again. She was hit with the realization as her mind calculated her next plans: the ring was even more dangerous to obtain; it was closer to Riddle Manor, most likely in some ward line or advanced security. She could only hope that this was a temporary move and not reactionary.

 

There was pressure building once again, an oppressive weight that had sat upon her chest in her last life—one that only grew exponentially during lonely nights in the library and built with each tear she spilled in silence as she bit her palm to muffle the noise. The weight of the future, of the knowledge that if she didn’t find the answer they needed, didn’t come up with the plan, then she’d be forced to watch both worlds she loved—the people she loved—perish.

 

It was worsened by the fact that her letters to Dumbledore had gone unanswered the entire time she was gone. Now, his answer, it seemed, filled the crumpled letter in her hand. She held back the tears threatening to fall. This was nothing, this was nothing to cry over, she tried to convince herself.

 

You’ve died, you’ve been tortured, you’ve fought in a war, Hermione. This, this isn’t worth your tears.

 

But she had…. Hoped. This life had filled her with it in so many ways, softening some of the hard edges she had built. The dream she had never gotten to fulfill in her last life was now, most likely, gone as well. Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead against the glass; the cool feeling felt refreshing, felt grounding.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

Rose watched as her youngest seemed to languish against the greenhouse glass. Ever since their trip, she had noticed that she had pulled inward once again. It was disheartening to realize that she would have never noticed if it weren’t for an off comment Tibbits made to Petunia when they were separated.

 

“The miss mustn’t sulk like the littlest.”

 

Day after day, her lovely daughter dimmed; no amount of subtle inquiries or gentle comfort seemed to help, and so, as soon as they returned home, she made sure she kept a better eye on her wild card. Then today happened, a letter from Hogwarts, ones that were so familiar from all the previous years before. Except when Lily shouted in joy and Hermione simply paled, retreating further into herself as the day progressed, she knew something else added to the weight of her daughter’s worries. She couldn’t stand the tightness growing in her chest, the sickly feeling of uselessness that grew each time her gaze landed on the halfhearted smiles she had forced. And so, she wrote—wrote a letter to the one person who might be able to help.

 

The floo behind her roared; she turned, a smile growing on her face as she greeted Sirius.

 

“Oh, thank goodness—I see you got my letter.” She uttered as she moved to hug him. The confused look on his face caused her to pause. He cleared the distance, pulling her into a side hug before replying.

 

“I-I didn’t get a letter, but I felt like I might be needed today.”

 

His eyes were wild and searching the room; his breathing grew faster the longer his eyes didn’t find what he was looking for. The normally unflappable jokester was anxious.

 

Her mind raced as she recalled Walburga’s words—the Bond. Relief flooded through her.

 

“I think you might be right. She’s in the greenhouse.” She patted him on the arm before turning away and moving to give them some privacy. As soon as he realized he could go, the boy nearly broke into a run. She swore she could see the moment their magic connected, swore she could feel the soft warmth it generated. She rubbed her sternum as she made her way to the front of the house.

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

The moment she felt a cool brush of a different kind, her entire body betrayed her; the stiff tensing of her shoulders melted, the oppressive weight lightened, and warmth bloomed. Her magic rushing to meet his as if it couldn’t stand the separation any longer. She felt his body sliding next to hers, felt his steady hands as he simply shifted her body to melt into his side as she turned her head to look up into his handsome face. He crumbled once he held her tight, shuddering as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against hers. His low voice mixed with the rain, and his proximity caused goosebumps to flood her chilled skin.

 

“Princess, please don’t leave me again for such lengths of time. I was withering away without you.”

 

She held back the giggle as she noticed him pout. She snuggled into his side further, loving the way he groaned, the sound rattling around in her ears as the bond between them flourished. They were supposed to be meeting tomorrow, yet his unexpected presence filled her with joy. She could still feel his anxiousness through the bond; he must have rushed over the moment her emotions leaked through.

 

“Oh no, we can’t have that. Next time you’ll have to come along then.” She mumbled through her growing smile.

 

The words held more than simple jest; he had slowly carved a spot in her world, more than any other ever could. She took a deep breath; his scent filled her. It always calmed her, those hints of bergamot, of iris and sage mixed with cedar—it taunted her, the animalistic part of her purring as she unconsciously rubbed her cheeks against his body. He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her curls.

 

“Tell me who I need to hex, love, because if this pressure in my chest is just a fraction of what you’re feeling, well, that won’t do.” He whispered. Her pulse started to race, her mind sputtered and collapsed as she felt a soft caress along her neck, the feeling of his fingers burned as she struggled to form words. Soft caresses slowly became firmer as he adjusted next to her; she could feel his strong heart beat in his chest, racing just as fast as hers. When her words failed her, she simply held up the crumpled letter. He took it without hesitation, his fingers never stopping their exploration of her neck as he smoothed it out on his thigh before picking it back up and reading it.

 

To: Miss Hermione Evans,

 

I must congratulate you once again on placing first in your year. Such enthusiasm for learning must not be hindered, for bright minds need to be cultivated and supported. So with this understanding in mind, I have declined the nomination of prefect in order to support your necessary growth and reflection. Your list of required reading material and supplies will be on the parchment included with this letter.

 

Sometimes we must surrender things we might desire for the best result.

I’m sure you understand my meaning.

 

-Albus Dumbledore.

 

Sirius eyed the letter with disdain; he had seen the growing tension between the two of them, and now the old bastard had denied her a position that should have been hers. His mind was whirring, trying to fill in the missing information. What had happened between them?

 

“What a fucking tosser.” He hissed out.

 

“SIRIUS!” Hermione squealed, laughing deeply as he chucked the parchment off to the side. He pulled her into his lap, mind-melting as she turned to straddle his lap, aligning them face-to-face. He could tell she needed a distraction, and he was happy to provide it. Taking in her features as his entire being came alive, as his skin soaked in each of her touches, each of the points where their bodies connected. Her magic had grown within his chest, filling him with a euphoria as his eyes dropped to her tempting lips. He leaned forward, closing the space, bursting with ecstasy once they connected. He had been denied her company for far too long, denied the beauty of her essence, the lyrical sound of her voice, denied the scent of her, denied her mind, her touch, and her affection. He could barely stand it. Growling in pleasure when she returned his kiss with equal fervor, he pulled her close. Desperate and needy, they clung to each other, filling the ache that lived beneath their skin.

 

Hermione moaned into the kiss, her heart full as that oppressive weight dissipated. She filled herself with the knowledge that even when she didn’t know she needed him, he would come.

 

August 23rd, 1975 Undisclosed Location

 

Blood pounded beneath his skin as he stood side by side with the other masked wizards, his green eyes slightly golden in the night as he watched the massive form of the grim strike. He forced his eyes to stay open as he heard whimpered pleading turning into bloody gurgling—forced himself to remain still and unflinching as a sharp crack rang throughout the woods. His mind raced as he wondered just how many Death Eaters died between his friend’s jaw as the raven cawed from the branch overlooking his kill.

 

When Sirius transformed back, he moved along with the rest. He didn’t look at the dismembered body as he passed, letting out a sigh of relief when the others transfigured it and cleared the heavy scent of blood. He noticed the smiles that decorated both his friends unmasked faces; it was still off-putting the way they joked and teased each other covered in blood and bits. Pulling his mask off, he tilted his head back and took a deep breath as he placed it into his robes. Staring up at the moon, he tried to block out the remaining scents, tried to block out the exhilaration leaking off the beast within him.

 

The stars above him looked so bright, yet the one seated on the earth below sucked people into his orbit, blinding them with brilliance, with terrifying horror as they realized just how impossible it is to exist next to a celestial being. Perhaps the legends about the blacks were true.

 

He came to sit down next to both of them, shuffling his robes close as he sighed. Sirius turned and offered him a cigarette—he was starting to see a pattern, starting to see the small rituals that they exchanged after moonlit nights. He turned his face to stare at Sirius. His eyes were glowing, sparkling with the same rhythm as the ones above. The harsh scent of tobacco filled his nose and his mouth, yet there was something in him that craved to join—and so, he took it. His hands were trembling as he moved it to his mouth. Sirius lit it for him, his eyes glancing to Severus before inhaling. Gods, it burned. He gagged, nearly choking as he coughed, eyes watering as he tried to catch his breath.

 

Sirius broke down into deep barking laughs as he ruffled his hair. Severus chuckled, eyes knowing as he took an inhale of his own.

 

“Fuck, that’s horrible.”

 

“It’s something that grows on you.”

 

He placed it back to his lips and tried again, his heart racing in anticipation, yet the second time wasn’t as bad. The second time…. It satisfied the craving he had.

 

Thinking back, he wasn’t sure what Sirius had really been referring to.

 

August 24th, 1975 Lupin Cottage Ceredigion

 

“Shit”

 

The heavy knocking ringing throughout his room rattled his mind as he reached for his wand; his hand fumbled as he shrank back, wincing in pain as the light of the sun broke through his heavy curtains. It burned, scalding his irises as he flailed for his wand. The heavy knocking continued; with his heightened senses, each bang seemed to vibrate up the very walls of his home only to bounce around his room. He ground his teeth together as he forced himself up. Sitting up in his bed, he groaned once again as each muscle in his body felt bruised.

 

Blinking until his eyes came into focus, he scanned his dresser and floor; his wand wasn’t there. Giving a tentative sniff, he located the sharp scent of iron. There, hidden in the folds of his sheets, rested his wand, a bit of blood still on the handle.

 

Nausea built in his gut as the harsh knocking continued—the sharp slam of his father’s bedroom door closing and the heavy thumping of his feet as he made his way to the front door added to his growing headache. He grabbed his wand and cast a quick tempus. The soft, shimmering silver numbers made him want to cry.

 

6:15 am.

 

That meant he had only gotten three hours of sleep. Sirius had kept him long into the night as they persuaded several individuals into giving up information. He had stood behind their bound bodies, his nose twitching each time they lied. Sirius had caught on quickly, his glowing eyes never failing to connect with his after each question. And then, the hunt after had drained him emotionally—he was whispering curse after curse as he tugged a shirt over his head before moving to get his pants.

 

“REMUS!”

 

The anxious bellowing of his father knocked him out of his daze as he rushed to slip on pants, cursing as he tripped and fell. His elbow throbbing as he scrambled to stand, clawing the floor as his heart raced. He winced at the sound of his feet hitting their floors; his headache was turning out to be an unforgiving migraine.

 

His nose was flooded with his father’s confusion and disbelief, along with several other scents that screamed unknown to the wolf inside. Gripping his wand, he slowed as he rounded the corner, eyes snapping to his sitting father and the three unknown wizards awkwardly taking up space in their living room. He moved slowly, coming to stand next to his father’s side. His father looked up at him, his eyes wide as his mouth opened and closed, before he handed him the parchment grasped in his trembling hands. Remus pocketed his wand and plucked the parchment from his father.

 

Mooney,

 

No take backzies.

 

-Sirius.

 

“Um…What?”

 

The words tumbled out of his mouth as he tried to understand what was going on. Shaking his head, he turned to address the wizards waiting. The one closest to him, an older wizard that felt oddly familiar yet unfamiliar due to his deceptively welcoming features and smiling eyes, seemed to understand there was still some confusion.

 

“Excuse me, sirs, my name is Dr. Nathanial Waterhouse. I was retained by House Black to treat a patient and directed to arrive here. The individuals accompanying me are Mediwizard Axion Durst—” He gestured to the younger-looking blonde wizard to his right.

 

“And… Well, I’m not too sure who this individual is, but we were informed he would be joining us on the portkey.”

 

Remus’s and Lyall’s eyebrows rose. The bulkier wizard stepped forward, offering his hand. Remus jumped to grasp it, his mind oddly noticing how firm the wizard’s grip was.

 

“It is a pleasure to meet you. The name is Donovan Weatherford, I am here to update the wards on the property.”

 

Weatherford moved to pull a shrunken folder from his pocket, resizing it before handing it over to Remus.

 

“No worries, ministry permits are already filed, and services have already been paid for. All of the documentation is in there.”

 

Lyall jumped up at that, rushing forward to take the folder, his smile resembling more of a grimace than anything else, before pulling his son off to the side.

 

“Excuse me, gentlemen, I need to speak to my son for a moment.”

 

Lyall walked quickly into their kitchen; it was still well within view of the wizards but far enough to give them a bit of privacy. He looked at the folder in his hands as if it was a rogue occamy before setting it down on the kitchen countertop. He groaned as he harshly rubbed his face.

 

“Gwas, what is going on here? What was that note about?”

 

Remus’s heart was racing as his mind struggled to comprehend. His father’s slip into Welsh triggered his own.

 

“cnych”

 

“Hey, you watch your mouth.”

 

“Sorry…. but…My friend. I mentioned mam, and he said he’d figure something out….I just, I never would have thought this is what he meant.”

 

Lyall looked even more confused as he waited for Remus to finish. When no other words spilled from his mouth, he spoke instead.

 

“Wait, are you telling me one of your friends… What? Hired doctors and security for us?” Lyall couldn’t help but look back to the group, his words dying as his eyes moved back to the folder on the counter.

 

“Yeah,” uttered in breathless disbelief, Remus turned to look at the group too. They waited patiently, some curious as they looked around their living room.

 

“Love?” The weak voice coming from down the hall drew all the wizards attention. Lyall sprinted from Remus down the hall, ignoring the worried faces he passed. Remus was close behind him as he moved to the other side of his mother’s shoulders to help her walk. She was pale, much paler than she had been. Today would be another rough day, it seemed.

 

They both guided Hope to the living room couch. Remus paused, his heart stuttering in his chest, his eyes watering as he leaned into his mother’s side. There was a new faint scent clinging to her clammy skin; his nose had struggled to pick it up, but the wolf within him whined when he did. It was decay. His mind spiraled as he watched the men introduce themselves. They moved, they talked—yet everything was muffled, dampened as he sank into the seat next to her.

 

He moved to hold her hand; it was lighter than he was used to, smaller and colder than he was used to, but as he rubbed soothing circles into her skin, he couldn’t help but make a silent prayer.

 

Please, God, I’m not ready.

 

Please God, don’t take her from me.

Notes:

I hope you all had a great weekend! Thank you once again for all your support and wonderful comments.

From this point we should be seeing a pickup in development. I felt it was necessary to show Remus's internal struggles accepting to help Sirius. As someone in canon who spent most of his life fighting to be considered “human” and to fight against the curse that changed his life, actively choosing to harm, not just in defense, needed a stronger foundation than just friendship. I also decided to stay canon with the portrayal of Lyall and Hope. I know in most fanfics they're negligent/bad parents, but I felt it helped justify Remus's choice.

Thank you all once again and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 47: Fox on the Run

Summary:

Fox Holes are fine to hide in for a while, but any good farmer knows what to look for

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; this is my first fanfic.

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“You can keep as quiet as you like, but one of these days somebody is going to find you.”― Haruki Murakami

---

September 1st, 1975 Hogwarts

 

Nestled beneath a charmed sky filled with falling stars that rained down on each house, stardust dissolving into nothingness once within the reach of mortals, the world—her world as she knew it—turned on its axis. For there was always a price for trying to change the future.

 

“I would like to introduce our new defense professor, Mr. Mortimer Huxley.”

 

Silence descended on the great hall as an imposing figure rose. The new defense professor was tall; one could argue he had a bit of giant’s blood, for he was not as tall as Hagrid but certainly towered over Dumbledore as he made his way to the podium on stage. The black acromantula-embroidered robes reeked of opulent wealth, combined with his large obsidian signet ring and Hungarian Horntail dragonhide boots—ones that were impossibly difficult to obtain due to the ferocious nature of the dragon—only reaffirmed her suspicions. Perhaps if one was not versed in wizarding finery, then his aristocratic features and impeccable posture spoke of wealth, screamed of old money—of rich heritage. Dark, thick brows that highlighted breathtaking blue eyes only enhanced his prominent jaw and smooth skin. He was an older wizard, as small sections of grey streaked through his wavy brown hair, but certainly much younger than Dumbledore. He looked every bit like a cold, exacting wizard that could dominate in a duel. Yet, Hermione blocked out the appreciative whispers of the girls around her as her eyes fell to the most important detail about the unknown wizard. Thereupon, on his collar was a gleaming silver snake pin.

 

He wouldn’t

 

“Mr. Huxley is a decorated Hogwarts alumnus, graduating class of 1945. He held distinctions in Defense Against the Dark Arts and later moved into a career in Hitwizard training internationally. We have been granted a rare opportunity to have one of the best teachers in defense this year—as Mr. Vinter has decided to step down and retire officially,” Dumbledore calmly uttered as he held his hand up and gestured to the wizard. Moving to the side, he allowed Huxley to speak.

 

“I am honored to be working with you all and looking forward to seeing the capabilities of this generation’s future. I have already spoken with a professor you all are familiar with—Professor Flitwick—and I will be opening back up the Dueling Clubs I fondly remember during my time here. There are many traditions—” His low voice drawled as his eyes flicked to the Slytherin table.

 

“That I feel has been set to the side. Overshadowed by… more progressive policies that would be beneficial in returning to. Please speak with me or Professor Flitwick if you are interested in participating. Thank you.” There were soft gasps from the female population as he gave them all a charming smile—however, his magic was cold, icier than any other wizard she had encountered in this life. Conversations grew, thoughts on the new professor, excitement over the possibility of joining the dueling club. Hermione focused in on the small raise of Dumbledore’s eyebrow as their eyes met. She knew from the moment his expression leaked out a smug smile that this was intentional. Just as he had snubbed her academically, while he could not reveal her secrets unless he wished to trigger the bond, he had done something just as terrible. Another punishment for withholding the hallow.

 

Ignoring the dull blade of the butter knife digging into her palm as she fought the disbelief bubbling up—fought the rage and frustration that lived in the corners of her heart that rose and condensed into what felt like a heavy stone in her throat. The moment her foot stepped onto Hogwarts soil earlier, the ambient magic had recoiled, had hissed in displeasure and unease. Each step cultivated a feeling of anxiety and dread. Even as her favorite people laughed and joked around her, she had known something was very wrong.

 

Now she could feel what had angered the magic—could see the Death Eater that had slithered in, radiating dark magic so dense it made her nauseous. She swallowed and bottled the desire to sink her teeth into the headmaster’s throat—he was too big of a threat to leave unchecked.

 

The Dark Lord’s hands and eyes had reached Hogwarts; unlike the past that needed ministry intervention, Dumbledore had opened the gates himself and offered up the students as bait. The blade began to cut into her skin as she clenched her fist and gritted her teeth—she hardly noticed the pain as she silently vowed to return this slight tenfold.

 

“Oh my goodness, he’s certainly easy on the eyes, isn’t he?” Beth mumbled as she moved to grab another slice of treacle tart, smiling coyly as her eyes lingered on the new defense professor.

“I’m not too sure how I’ll fare in defense this year. Might need to stay behind a few nights.” Amy giggled as she nudged Hermione’s shoulder. Lysander groaned as he started to stand. Adjusting his robes, Hermione couldn’t help but notice the prefect badge shining brightly under the celestial rays. Amy stood beside her, face concerned as she noticed where Hermione’s eyes trailed to.

 

“Dumbledore was barmy for not picking you, Mia.”

Hermione sighed as she felt Amy’s sincerity, her magic soft and warm, filled with concern, with anger on her behalf. Slowly letting go of the knife, she wandlessly healed the small cut on her palm as she moved her hand under the table.

“No, this is perfect.” Her eyes moved to the Gryffindor table. Remus was choking, pumpkin juice flowing from his nostrils as Sirius nearly toppled over the side of the table in laughter. The large human-shaped blush named James was as red as an apple as he panicked, trying to help Remus while grimacing at the splattering of pumpkin juice all over his face. The poor students around them leaned back as far as they could, hoping to escape the splash zone.

 

“This allows me some time to relax this year and prep for O.W.L.S. unhindered.”

 

“Merlin, we don’t stand a chance if you have extra time this year.” Gregory groaned, his head coming to slam down on the table.

“Hush, it’s not like you ever had a chance to be anywhere in the top rankings.” Beth hissed before she took an aggressive bite of her dessert.

“Maybe if you’re extra good, she’ll actually decide you’re worth the effort to help this year.” Amy chided, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder as she moved to the front of the table to assist with the first years.

 

“And have Black mean-mug me every chance he gets again? No thanks, I can live with average marks—heavy emphasis on LIVE.”

 

Now that got a deep laugh out of her; Gregory’s panicked face as he covertly turned to see Sirius was no longer laughing but intently focused on their table only added to the tickling desire to laugh harder.

 

“Beth, do you see this? If I go missing, it’s all her fault.” He cried as he shot up, snagging a few cookies to put in his robes as he rushed to leave, his hands up in surrender as he faced the Gryffindor table.

 

Sirius fought to move his eyes from Hermione’s decadent form; the witch was just getting prettier and prettier as the years progressed—it tormented him, it delighted him. It physically sometimes hurt to look or to look away; she was a sublime paradox that he lived to experience. The stars sparkled as they rained down on her, the flashes of gold and white illuminating her sun-kissed skin as she laughed with her housemates. He adjusted himself in his seat, ignoring Remus’s sharp look of disgust, his eyes never leaving her as he chased her microexpressions. His little witch was so sneaky, thinking he’d miss the way she glared at The Grand Tosser or the new defense professor. Absolutely barmy thinking he wouldn’t have seen or smelled the blood in the air or felt the shift in her magic as she healed her hand. He turned slightly, his eyes meeting Severus’s.

 

The snake simply tapped his nose, his black eyes turning to the Defense professor. His eyebrows raised in question, which Severus returned with a simple nod. He turned back around, gently nudging Remus in the shin.

 

Distracted by his conversation with James, Sirius nudged him again, harsher this time. Remus jolted in his seat; a flash of pain crossed his face before disappearing. It was subtle the way he created space between himself and James, how he turned his body and face just slightly to gain privacy before looking.

 

He was learning. Good.

 

“The new professor seems familiar.” He rubbed his nose before moving to pick out a few fruits he knew Hermione liked.

 

Remus paled, his body stilling as his eyes landed on the Huxley. His nostrils flared as his eyes started to darken.

“Well, I’ll be. You’re right, mate. He looks awfully familiar to some of the people we met this summer.” He nearly growled out as his hand shot out for the bowl of chocolate pudding Sirius slid across the table. He huffed as he searched for a spoon. Sirius groaned internally as he saw James’s face falling.

 

Okay, might need to work on situational awareness a bit more.

 

“My fucking heart! Tell me you’re lying!” James wailed, startling a few housemates. They sighed, rubbing their temples as they got up to leave. Sirius felt a bit of satisfaction as Remus choked once again, this time on his pudding.

 

“Prongs love, whatever do you mean?”

 

James pouted, his hands shooting up in the air in exasperation as his expression morphed into disbelief.

“I know I joke about being the forgotten wife in this relationship, but seriously? You guys hung out, One—without me,” he ground out while holding up a finger, the middle one to be exact.

“Two—without telling me.” He held up another finger. Wagging them for extra emphasis.

 

“And worst of all… Now you’re using inside knowledge in front of me! Lil’ ol’ me, who you didn’t invite!” He growled out, the sound impressing both Sirius and Remus. However, Sirius could feel the hurt, the insecurity, and hints of loneliness leaking through the bond. Remus’s airways finally cleared of his dessert, allowing him to swiftly intervene.

 

“I… Shit, sorry, Prongs. You heard about that attack in Wales, right?” He stumbled out, his arm coming up to wrap around his shoulders. James nodded his head but only pursed his lips as he waited for him to continue. The normally dramatic lion was still; Sirius narrowed his eyes.

 

“Well, my mum and dad were injured; I happened to mention it to Sirius, and he hopped over to help. Some shady characters were still around the town when we did a walk-through.”

 

James facepalmed, his eyes widening as he turned his face to Remus, mouth slightly opened before he replied. Sirius’s eyes narrowed just a fraction further, his nose twitching.

 

“Bloody hell, they’re okay, right? Your parents?”

 

“They’re getting better, better every day.” He mumbled, slowly dropping his hand as he moved it to run through his blonde locks, his green eyes filling with gratitude as they shifted across the table.

 

“Prrongzie, you’re our mate, apparently my wife as well, so have faith. We wouldn’t exclude you.” He laughed as he chucked a grape at his face. James, finally less peaky, laughed as he dodged, but Sirius’s head tilted as he studied James’s expression.

 

Sirius simply gave Remus a knowing look before standing. He quickly smoothed the rumples in his robes before grabbing the plate of fruits he had collected.

 

“Prongs, fair warning, I am going to see my mistress now; please don’t fret when I pick her over you.” He stated with a dramatic flip of his hair. James chuckled as he rolled his eyes.

 

“Go on, lover boy.”

 

James watched him leave, watched him slide in next to Hermione. His face fell into a blank mask as he looked down at his clenched hands in his lap. Maybe they’d forgotten he was just as smart as them, his senses just as sharp. He blocked the bond as sadness flooded through him.

 

He had smelled the lie the moment it had left their lips.

 

September 5th, 1975 Hogwarts

 

Fingertips dragged across the cracks in the stone walls of the castle, eyes scanned the dips and curves of fractured stones, of broken frames and tangled magic. It seemed that the castle was splintering at its seams. From the centuries-old grout to the very individuals who were housed within it.

 

Hermione studied the boys as they hung around in the hall; there was something off, something nagging at her consciousness to look. As the crowds passed around them, as they joked amongst themselves, she saw a subtle shift. James lingered on the outskirts as the other boys orbited closer to Sirius. Hazel eyes that had always shined in a way his son’s never did resembled Harry’s forlorn stare more than ever, and that caused a rolling feeling in her gut.

 

James, just like Harry, was the Canary. Brilliantly colored and highly admired, but the first to feel the effects of danger, of change. A cold chill passed through her as she stared, her finger tapping along the back of the book she held as she got closer—chewing at the corner of her lip, she engraved the scene into her memories as she returned Sirius’s bright smile.

 

He practically apparated to her side in his haste, dismissing the others as he moved to pull her bag from her shoulder and offered his arm. She slipped into his side with practiced ease. The soft weight of her necklace and bracelet helped ease her troubling suspicions.

 

“Hey, princess.”

“Hello, Siri—how was potions?”

 

The sea of students parted for them as they walked down the halls; the weight of their stares no longer bothered her. Sirius’s intense gaze that never seemed to falter branded the skin of her cheeks as she felt the heat of his body, of his attention. Soaking it in, she leaned into his shoulder, clinging to what little normalcy she could.

 

“It was dreadful; all classes are when I’m forced to be separated from you, princess.”

She lightly pinched his arm, ignoring his pout. It was a distraction; she knew it well, his little tells. The tightness in his posture, his unconscious tapping of his fingers, his overly enthusiastic gestures, and far too sweet statements. She could feel the gentle rhythm of his taps strumming through their linked arms. As they neared her next class, defense, her eye caught the portrait of Sir Nicholas Greylon. A knight who ignored the signs of mutiny within his troop and was abandoned in the goblin sieges of Blackpool. He prevailed in the end, but not without significant cost.

 

“Such a smooth talker, aren’t you?”

“The smoothest.”

“Then tell me, what’s going on with James?”

 

It felt like time had slowed the way everything within her noticed the rippling tension of his body, how his breath hitched and stuttered as his head turned. She looked up as they walked, noting how his eyes looked ashamed before the cold haze of occlumency took over. Her heart tightened in her chest; it was as if her lie of being a seer became true, for in that moment she knew—she saw the lie before it left his lips.

 

“Nothing at all, love.”

 

It stung, just a small prick against her hammering heart, but it was painful all the same.

 

Hypocrite

 

A small part of her hissed—it was true, she was hiding just as he was. Neither of them wanted to break the calm waters that had grown between them, but there were pieces of themselves that they hadn’t shared. That much was obvious—he ignored her lies, ignored the private conversations she had had with Dumbledore and the heads of other families, ignored how she hid some notes or tracked the news like it was life or death, and in turn she ignored the growing collection of wizards that rallied behind him, that passed notes in the hall, ignored how his form grew much more fierce than before, ignored the scent of darkness leaking from his skin, and ignored the faint bitterness of smoke that clung to him and some others. Could she be faulted for wanting to stay in blissful ignorance, to keep the one person who had ever seen her close?

 

She inhaled slowly and squeezed his arm tighter, flooding their bond with the concern she felt.

 

“Okay, just… Don’t let something small fester, Siri. You understand what I mean, right?” She eased out as they came to a stop.It was a statement meant for him and herself. Sirius looked at her then, his eyes still hazy as he leaned in and kissed her cheeks before returning her bag. He brought his hand up to caress her face, his transforming as soon as his skin connected with hers, that cold haze clearing with each second they remained linked. The warm and rough texture of his calloused thumb steadied her; she leaned into his hold, as she waited for his reply.

 

“Your word is my command, princess.”

 

Nodding, she leaned up, and he bent down instantly as she moved to kiss his cheek in return. The soft sigh he let out filled her with warmth, his body melting under her lips. The soft grunt of irritation that slipped from his lips as the clock chimed in the halls made her smile; it was signaling that they only had moments to spare before being late—she could see his mind calculating, fighting against itself as he weighed his options. Occasionally, he needed a push.

 

“Go, try not to let the flobberworms bite too much.”

 

“Darling, that’s the best part, but fine. Just be careful. It’s a bit of practicals today.” He rushed out as he squeezed her hand. Oh, how sweet.

 

“I will, now go! It’d be a shame if you got detention for being late. I thought we could go to the room tonight.” She teased as she saw a heavy blush creep up his neck. He only smiled over his shoulder after he took off, her laughter ringing through the hall.

 

“Miss Hermione Evans, it is good of you to finally join us.” Professor Huxley droned as she slipped in right before the bell. Normally, she would time her entrance, nothing too early or late; the attention of the imposing wizard was something she would rather not encourage. Yet, her stomach dropped as she realized he had shown an unusual interest since the very first class.

 

Choosing not to comment, she moved slowly to the first open seat. It was next to some Ravenclaw she didn’t really talk to. Dark red hair caught her eye. Lily, like always, was sitting front and center, hands already moving rapidly as she moved to copy the day’s outline on her parchment. Crinkling her nose, she pulled out her supplies, lining them up in order as Professor Huxley began the class. She had warned Lily, subtly, about their new professor, but it had been met with anger and accusations instead of calm acceptance. Apparently, cautioning her had been some weird jealousy play on not wanting her to beat her class scores.

 

Perhaps she needed to be blunter and simply inform her that she was showing off to a Death Eater. Maybe that would sink in and force her to temper her enthusiasm.

 

She had found him, the beast of a man in front of her, in the journal she had written out so long ago filled with everything she remembered. While he was never in the inner circle, he was undoubtedly one of Riddle’s prized lackeys.

 

Mortimer Huxley, Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Capture Division.

 

He was in the squad that had captured and ultimately killed Ted Tonks. The prophet had implied that it was justified defense because Ted had… Resisted. They had all resisted in the end.

 

“Today we will be diving into the practical side of defense. I have been able to assess where your current understanding lands. While a great many of you have excelled in your knowledge of the spells we’ll be learning, it is time to see if you can apply it.” Professor Huxley flicked his wrist as the chalk on the board began to write.

 

“Through the year we will be learning the Impediment Jinx, Everte Statum, Deprimo, the smokescreen spell, Lacarmun Inflamari, Densaugeo, the Trip Jinx—that one I’m sure most first years learn early on—” The class laughed as he joked. She kept her face blank as she observed each of the students faces, taking in how their eyes never strayed from his form.

 

“And lastly, the Tongue-tying curse and Human presence-revealing spell.” He smiled as he walked down the rows of tables, eyes lingering on each student before returning to the middle of the room. It was calculated; she noticed the way his intense eyes cataloged each student and their reactions to his proximity. The snake was judging who was more or less receptive to his charms. She blinked, trying to banish the absurd thought. There was no way Riddle had utilized honey traps… right? Sexpionage, didn’t seem like something the Dark Lord she knew would focus on. Then again, he had polished his appearance until he had them all bound and terrified of denying him. That made her giggle a bit; the Ravenclaw next to her looked like she was mad before continuing to write down the professor’s words.

 

“You will be graded not only on your execution of each spell but also on how well you incorporate each into a duel.” He moved back to the front of the class, each move fluid, not an ounce of wasted movement. He was not as fluid as Dolohov or Bellatrix, but his skill could not be denied.

 

“Toward the end of the year we will dip into protective enchantments as well as study counter-jinxes and counter-curses. Any questions?”

 

The surrounding students hung on his words, eyes sparkling in awe as they waited on bated breath for the next. When no one raised their hands, he instructed them to stand and move along the walls of the class. After everyone was settled, he snapped his fingers, and the tables jumped up; laughter rang out as they noticed that they danced as they moved, twisting and turning to some unknown beat as they shuffled tightly together out of the way. In the next wave, the training dummies that lingered in the corners of the room moved, startling a few students as they made their way around to the middle.

 

“Alright, first we are going to start with Everte Statum. Can anyone tell me what this charm is used for?”

 

Icy blue eyes scanned the room; there were several more hands in the air than in most Slytherin and Gryffindor classes. Hermione kept her hand down, although the answer burned on the tip of her tongue.

 

In the end he picked Lily, of course he did. Her sister didn’t catch the condescending tone, nor the way he rolled his black wand in-between his fingers.

 

“Alright, Miss Lily Evans, let’s hear what you think it is used for.”

 

“It is a charm used to send the opponent flying back several feet; depending on the strength, the opponent can feel a moment of sharp pain, but nothing that lingers.” She clearly stated as she tilted her chin up, eyes alight with pride.

 

““Everte” is derived from Latin, meaning “to throw out.” The second part of the incantation, “Statum,” means “Stand.” This, when combined with the sharp wand movement, throws the opponent back while standing. Occasionally it is referred to as the knockback charm.”

 

The professor’s eyebrows raised just slightly.

“That is correct, 2 points to Ravenclaw for a perfect answer.”

 

He leaned back on his desk’s edge, arms coming up and crossing over his chest.

 

“And why don’t we see whether your sister has actually been paying attention or is simply content to admire the poster she’s standing next to?” His light words caused a bit of chuckling from some of the class. But Beth and Amy stiffened; she simply shook her head, hoping that they ignored the slight. They did not need his attention; their proximity to her was already a red flag.

 

“Miss Hermione Evans, I have heard great things about you from other professors, yet I am not one to rely on word of mouth—tell me, what are the advantages of Everte Statum in a duel?”

 

She bristled at the words, occluding slightly as she determined just how brilliant she needed to be.

 

“Everte Statum, is beneficial in a duel when you need to put space between you and your opponent.”

 

His icy eyes moved up, pausing on the white wand jutting from her hair; she saw the slight tilt of his head.

 

“And the disadvantages, Miss Evans.” He mumbled as he turned, uncrossing his arms while writing something down on the parchment on his desk. Her ire only rose further.

 

“The disadvantages…” she paused, pretending to think it over before continuing.

 

“Are that it does not incapacitate your opponent like Flipendo and Depulso.” She sweetly answered. Yet he did not relent to her, did not move on to any other student.

 

“And?”

 

She internally sighed.

 

“It can only be cast on a still, standing target. While the others can be utilized while the caster or the opponent is in motion. This, combined with the fact that both damage the opponent more physically, means it is only typically used in ambushes or initial starts of a duel.” She let out nonchalantly as she looked at the diagrams of banshees on the back wall.

 

“What else?” His tone was clipped as he wrote more on the parchment on his desk. There was an uncomfortable shift in the magic, the smiles on the rest of the faces in the class started to fall as their eyes bounced between the two.

 

“What else is there?” She snarked back; there were several sharp inhales, she could feel the person next to her lean away, unable to bear the heavy weight of his stare.

 

“I said, what else, Miss Evans? I expect more from a… witch—” He spat the word as if it was poisonous. Whether it was because he didn’t believe she was actually a witch or that she was a witch, she couldn’t tell.

 

“—That has been hailed the Brightest Witch of her age.”

 

She occluded further, deciding whether it would be better to feign ignorance, but it seemed like regardless of what she decided, he would be focusing on her anyway. The die had been cast, and it was not in her favor. So, she decided to end this little game quickly.

 

“Because of the stillness required and the angle of the wand movement, it hinders spell chains and duel casting; the intent and power behind the casting often require more caution and time before casting as well to accurately apply enough force. It limits the caster severely in a duel where seconds mean you win or lose.” She stated calmly.

 

“Now was that so hard?” He chuckled as he finished writing. She clenched her fists as she bit back her retort. She glanced at Lily, her paling face and unease were at least a positive. Hopefully she could connect the dots to her earlier words.

 

“Alright, I want two lines, Hufflepuff on this dummy and Ravenclaw on the one closest to the door. You will get one attempt—” He pulled his wand and conjured a bright red ribbon; it shot out and lay on the floor behind the dummies.

 

“To use the charm to push the dummy past this point, whether you get it or not, you only have one try. After you are done, move to the back of the line. This will train you to not overthink but also cast swifter. Hopefully, we will get everyone to have at least two or three tries before the class is out.” He clapped his hands, and everyone moved. Amy came up behind her and leaned in as they moved to the back of the line.

 

“What is his problem?” She hissed as she linked their arms. Beth, behind them, also leaned in, concern plastered all over her face as she realized the professor was back to watching them—back to watching Hermione specifically.

 

Hermione squeezed hers, cutting off the next word she was about to speak.

 

“I’ll tell you later,” she mumbled.

 

“You better.”

 

Hermione bit her tongue the entire rest of the class; Professor Huxley’s icy observation didn’t end until she left. She feared that it would continue well past the Defense Against the Dark Arts doors. This was not good at all.

 

September 26th, 1975 Hogwarts

 

For once in all the years since he had started school, he was alone as he wandered the halls. Curfew was coming up, but he couldn’t find the will to turn around and head back to the common room. Yet he couldn’t deny that over the years, even when surrounded by the others, he had started to feel more alone, their company less soothing—painful in the smallest ways as he slowly realized just how far the distance had grown between them. Even his desires to prank and joke diminished as he noticed the silent conversations, the stilted answers, and the growing lies.

 

His parents were older, much older than the average, and it showed in his upbringing. As the only child, there were only so many stories or galas one could attend or host before the halls of Potter Manor felt more like a prison than a home—and now it was happening again. His eyes watered as he walked, mind scattered as he let his feet lead him. It could have been hours, could have been minutes, but the sharp scent of fear filled his nostrils before soft whimpering echoed in the hall.

 

Shaking his head and wiping his eyes, he moved to pull his wand as he rushed forward. The sounds and scents grew louder as he heard hushed tones and quiet pleading. His pulse was racing as he saw two Slytherin 7th years ganging up on a smaller snake. His wand whipped up on instinct, the stinging hex falling from his mouth and hitting both before they even knew he was there. Startled, they cursed before fleeing; he could hear the whispers of “That’s Black’s friend,” leaving their housemate—their victim—behind. Part of him laughed internally; he didn’t feel like Sirius’s friend in the moment, he felt discarded. That’s what hurt the worst, because he wanted nothing more than to feel like he did in the beginning. He was expecting a fight but wasn’t surprised they had chosen self-preservation instead. Their victim curled inward the closer he got; his heart hurt as he slowly placed his wand back in his robes. All he wanted to do was help, to feel something apart from the heaviness weighing on his chest.

 

“Hey, uh, everything’s okay. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

The snake uncurled a bit; his watery greyish eyes met his hazel.

 

“you wont?”

 

“Of course not! Come, let’s get you sorted.” He offered a hand; the shy snake took it.

 

“Names James, James Potter. And yours?”

 

“Peter, Peter Pettigrew.”

Chapter 48: Liar

Summary:

Every so often a farmer's crops survive only through luck and prayer.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; this is my first fanfic.

TW: graphic violence

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“All conflict can be traced back to someone’s feelings getting hurt, don’t you think?”― Liane Moriarty

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October 1st, 1975 Diagon Alley (Midday)

 

It rained down on the bundled inhabitants of Diagon, a soft flurry of white snow that blanketed the world in a muted brilliance—yet the lone figure stood out against the stark white, draped in robes of deep sapphire, in sparkling jewels that spoke of power and grace. Crowds parted, heads dipped in reverence as Walburga slowly made her way to Madam Malkin’s. Ignoring the masses and the whispers that followed, she slowly pulled her wand from the sleeve of her robes as she neared a shadowed cross section. She was a Black, and even though she was a witch, her father had ensured she was trained just as harshly as any wizard. They were sloppy, the dogs that had been sniffing around. Ignorant to the stench that rolled off them and ignorant to the sound that echoed from their loud, bumbling steps. Sneering at the first flash of black robes, she tightened her grip on her wand as she noticed that the streets were now void of life. Yet hundreds of eyes watched behind the windows of the shops.

 

The hairs on the back of her neck started to rise as a light laughter echoed off the stones of the walls, off the cobblestones beneath her feet, bouncing as it amplified into a dark, rasping cackling that pierced her mind.

 

“Auntie! Aunnnnnttiieee!”

 

She turned, lowering her stance, making her body a smaller target as she slowly raised her wand. At the first flash of curly black hair, she struck, casting a bone-breaking curse as she raised a protego. Bellatrix’s sharp screech rang out as spells bounced off her shield. Brilliant flashes of red and gold as the black figures revealed themselves. Death Eaters. Screams erupted from shopkeepers and their patrons as the deflected spells crashed against the walls. Blowing holes through stone as pieces of rubble flew through the air. The sharp bite of violent magic was strumming in the current around them.

 

Bellatrix sneered as she stepped forward, her wand arm crooked and limp as she drew her wand into her non-dominant hand. Walburga tilted her head as she took note of the numbers before reaching up and tapping the golden brooch on her chest. There were only four others to keep an eye on.

 

“That was dirty, Auntie Wally, dirty, dirty, dirty! All I wanted to do was talk.” Bellatrix hissed as she paced, eyes wild as her head bobbed back and forth. She looked more like a mad dog with each pass.

 

“That was sloppy of you, dear; I thought my brother would have taught you better.”

 

“SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, YOU BLOODTRAITOR!” Bellatrix was just as fast with her uninjured arm as she stalked forward, lobbing curse after curse. Deep bubbling purples and rich viscous black, dark and sadistic spells. Walburga calmly deflected them as she held her shield, her eyes narrowing as she calculated the angles, deflecting her curses into the paths of Bellatrix’s lackeys. One stumbled and fell in a desperate scream as he clawed at his spilling intestines, rich red blood spewing forth as more of his organs fell from the gaping hole in his gut. The screaming started again as people tried to flee the stores; loud pops of apparition echoed in the narrow alley as it combined with the thundering clashes of magic.

 

“How’s Tom, dear Bella?”

 

Her words only seemed to enrage Bellatrix further, black curls sparking as she crouched low, wand cracking with power as the curses became more deadly.

 

Walburga took a deep breath as she tightened her grip, double-casting another protego as her first fell; sweat started to form on her forehead as she pushed forward instead of backing away. She looked slightly left to the discarded rubble—she transfigured it into a golem before turning sharply to the right, forcing Bellatrix to move closer to the transfigured terror. The three remaining men cried as they tried to provide support. The golem knocked off the head of one, and as it turned to swing down upon the other, it slammed into a shield; the force sent it stumbling as it fell on top of the other. A stray curse took care of the last as he slowly melted into the ground—a Black family spell that melted organs and bones. How pathetic.

 

Walburga smiled as she heard Bellatrix scream with rage once she realized she was alone.

 

It fell when Bellatrix became silent, cold as her eyes darkened, the strength of her spells increased, battering against her shield as she was forced to step back; with each step her shield weakened and fluttered. She cursed as her foot slipped in the slush. Sending a quick stabilizing charm to her feet, she bit back a scream when her shield failed, a slicing hex making it through to clip her cheek. If she hadn’t jerked her head, it would have been split from her shoulders. She recast, wand heating as she sent an Incendio out; Bellatrix side-stepped it. Without pausing, she shot a Glacius spell down to the ground right in front of Bellatrix’s feet. Hissing as her feet became frozen in place as the previously heated snow refroze into thick ice—Bellatrix was forced to send a small blasting curse to break up the ice. Now on uneven and slippery terrain, she cautiously moved back, curses weakened by her need to concentrate.

 

Warm blood was spilling from her cheek, drenching her robes as she pushed forward. Heart racing as she saw Bellatrix pause to try to heal her arm, she bit her lip as she dipped low, wand arm tense as she hurled another bone-breaking curse at her legs. The thunderous crack of Bellatrix’s shield shattering rang out as several pops of apparition boomed.

 

Bellatrix screamed once again as she looked at the new figures in the alley, wizards in all black, yet instead of the silver she was used to, they all had black masks.

 

“How dare you! How dare you, vermin, copy the Dark Lord!” she was spitting, nearly foaming at the mouth now as she raised her wand.

 

She flinched when the loud boom of their chant roared.

 

“Mors vincit Qmnia!”

 

They raised their wands in unison, bright red filled the alley, the light reflecting off the soft flutter of snow as they all shot a stunning hex at the witch. With a howl of rage, Bellatrix disapparated before they could hit.

 

Walburga took in a deep breath, eyes closing as she slowly loosened the grip on her wand. She forced her body to be still, forced the shakes from her hands and muscles as she stood tall. The masked men moved quickly, repairing the damage and vanishing the bloody evidence of the battle. It was a race against time, a race against the Aurors who had no doubt been alerted to the fight. The tallest figure slowly moved to her side, gripping her arm before disapparating.

 

 

Once in the boundaries of Grimmauld, Orion pulled off his mask, hissing in displeasure as he pulled Walburga into the parlor, helping her sit before kneeling to study the wound on her face. His black eyes narrowed as she simply nodded at him, allowing him to pull his wand and heal the cut. She relaxed in his hold as the magic flowed over her, erasing the blood from her robes, stitching her wound back together, and calming her racing heart. Ears straining as she heard the sound of the floo behind them.

 

“What happened?” Arcturus inquired, eyes wild with concern as he saw the last bit of her cut being healed. Silenced by her sharp glare, he came to rest a hand on her shoulder.

 

“It seems the Dark Lord has had enough of his letters going unanswered.”

 

“It was Bella he sent this time.” Orion gritted as he moved to stand, his eyes lingering on the light scar still on Walburga’s face.

 

“They’re getting sloppy; they only sent four along with her. But I don’t think he’ll allow simple mistakes like this any longer.” She muttered as she accepted a glass of whiskey that Orion held. She pulled his hand, leaning forward to place a quick kiss on his knuckles before downing the glass. Grimacing as she handed it back to him.

 

“Fuck.” Arcturus groaned out, hands slipping through his hair as he turned.

 

“This isn’t anything we weren’t prepared for, Father.” Orion muttered as he moved to pour a glass of whiskey for himself, his eyes never straying from Walburga’s face.

 

“I know, I know, but just read this. You’re more familiar with the intelligence reports.”

 

Arcturus handed over a letter to Walburga; she narrowed her eyes as she unfolded it. Her body tensed as she read the contents.

 

“Fuck.” She hissed.

 

Orion’s eyes widened at that; Arcturus simply paled further. She jumped up, crumpling the letter in her hands as she moved to the window in the parlor, pale eyes scanning the streets as she peeked behind the thick velvet curtains.

 

“A Death Eater is in the castle—as a teacher, no less. I was there when Huxley was knighted.”

 

“No, Dumbledore would never allow it!” Arcturus whispered in disbelief.

 

Walburga snapped her head around, eyes blazing as she growled out.

 

“YET, MY SON CONFIRMS IT HERE.” She waved the letter back and forth as she paced.

“He does not actually know, but dark magic is difficult to conceal from him, from them. That name, his appearance, his age—it all matches the Huxley I knew. The knight I knew.”

 

Orion stood pensively, his mind trying to flip through his memories. The glass shattered in his hand as he gasped, ignoring the shards of glass and blood in his palm as his normally calm facade disintegrated.

 

“Shit, we have to warn him. That friend of his is a risk.” Orion stated as he yelled for Alton.

 

Ignoring the elf as he moved to find a piece of parchment and a quill, Arcturus looked on confused, fingers rubbing the golden brooch as he waited for someone to fill him in.

 

“Huxley is the knight in charge of the werewolves. That little friend of his could be compelled to listen to his creator, Fenrir. I knew it—fuck, I knew it the moment I saw the scars on their faces.” Walburga moved to help Orion, settling a soft hand on his frantic arm before healing him. He relaxed just slightly as she bent over and found a quill to place in his hand. He kissed her in gratitude before writing the letter.

 

A soft knocking interrupted their conversation, bodies tensing as they slowly pulled their wands. Arcturus moved first, arm raised as he made his way down the halls of Grimmauld. Walburga was close behind, with Orion taking up the rear. Slowly they made their way, the knocking getting louder as they neared Orion’s study. Arcturus his hand lifted slightly higher as he moved to open the door, a hex on the tip of his tongue as he forced the study door open with his foot. The knocking echoed in the room as a dark figure beat against the window. Orion rushed forward, wand raised as he moved to open it. Oriel’s large figure screeched in frustration as they sighed in relief as the owl climbed onto the study’s sill, leg extending. Orion handed him a treat before taking the parchment on his leg. Quickly unraveling it. Arcturus’s eyes widened as they noticed his hands tightened on the parchment.

 

“No.” He whispered as a loud clattering bang rang out from the parlor they had just left. Alton popped in, startling them all as loud wailing screams erupted from across the house.

 

“It’s Master Alphard!” Alton squealed out, ears fluttering frantically before popping back downstairs.

 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Orion bellowed as they all scrambled back down to the parlor. Hearts racing as Alphard’s screaming got louder, bouncing off the walls as it filled their bodies with dread. The walls of Grimmauld pressed tighter, the sentient house shifting and groaning as if it too was in pain. Agonizing wails vibrating across its dark walls, ancestors pacing in their frames as they screamed at them to hurry as they past.

 

Arcturus pushed past Orion, his family magic was searing in his core, squeezing his heart as it stole his breath the more Alphard’s cries weakened—he was screaming now, screaming for Alton to fetch a healer. The mutilated form of Alphard rolled on the floor, his feet still lingering halfway in the floo where he fell. Dark blood leaked out from the hexes and curses all over his body. Walburga screamed once she saw the deep, jagged slashes across his chest. Dropping to her knees, she moved his head into her lap as healing spell after spell slipped from her lips, wand moving with a furious pace as she tried to ignore his fevered pleading. Tears leaked from his eyes as he struggled to breathe, bloody hands desperately clinging to her body as Alton appeared with the family mediwizard.

 

Shouts of terror—screams of pain filled the ancestral House of Black, all the while the crumbled parchment lay forgotten as it soaked in the blood pooling on the floor.

 

BREAKING NEWS:

MOVES IN THE WIZENGAMOT

TOM RIDDLE TAKES UP ANCESTRAL SEAT OF HOUSE GAUNT

 

AMBUSH ALONG THE COAST: PENZANCE RAID ENDS IN DEATH

52 CHILDREN SAVED, ONE KILLED IN THE ALTERCATION

SEVERAL ADDITIONAL AURORS INJURED

DECORATED AUROR CHARLUS POTTER DIES IN HEROIC RAID OF SEASIDE COMPOUND

 

October 1st, 1975 Hogwarts (Morning)

 

“Again.”

 

Hermione bit her tongue as she performed the charm again; there was a deep satisfaction that lived in her chest as it shattered the dummy once again, shards actually hitting the professor as he moved out of the blast radius. Of course she had performed the spell perfectly—perhaps too perfectly, as it only aggravated the Death Eater further when he couldn’t find fault in her stance, or the angle of her wand, or the strength with which she uniformly pushed out each time.

 

The smirk on her face enraged him further as he repaired the dummy and forced her to continue. Every day he found something to focus in on, something to berate her for. Worst of all—the people in her classes had started to avoid her, for if he found them too close, too friendly, he would hand out detentions, or they would simply hold the weight of his ire until they too learned to stay away. She allowed some of her rage to be expelled in each repetition of the charm. They weren’t Gryffindors, but she had expected some sort of pushback, yet the spineless group around her clamped their mouths shut as he hovered. So much for loyalty.

 

There were a few exceptions, Amy and Beth, of course; she had to nearly beg them to keep quiet and not make a scene. Lysander and Gregory deflected his attention whenever they could; the boys were getting good at subtly trolling Huxley into asinine conversations or delicately misplacing his teaching notes. They had simply smiled when she asked them if they were okay after every new detention.

 

She chuckled as the dummy exploded again. She wandlessly tossed the larger pieces at Huxley; the grimace on his face as he failed to deflect them in time helped fill the growing beast within her chest for revenge.

 

Sirius, her lovely Sirius—now she had to threaten him not to intervene. She could still feel the tightness in her chest at his crestfallen face. But she had smelled the acidic scent of dark magic and ashy tang lingering on his skin after they had learned one of the professors wings had gone up in magical flames—conveniently, it held only one room. Huxley’s.

 

His eyes had sparkled with a wildness that made her body come alive, her heart racing in her chest—she knew but dared not speak it.

 

“Miss Evans, don’t you dare stop! It seems you and your sister have issues following directions.” Huxley bellowed as he moved to reanimate Lily’s dummy.

 

Her hackles rose as he neared her sister, his tone grating against her willpower as she tightened her hold on her wand; the paleness of her sister’s face only made her magic more turbulent. Lily. Lovely Lily.

 

The bane of her fucking existence presently because her Gryffindor heart decided THIS was the time to shine. She had warned her after Huxley had decided to drop all pretenses and told her the suspicions she had. Lily, of course, was outraged. Yet she ignored her explicit instructions to leave it alone and barreled forward, indignant rage and need for justice blazing as she argued every day with Professor Huxley. The bastard soaked it up as if he had been given a gift, turning his relentless focus on the both of them.

 

Lily didn’t understand the need for keeping a low profile. Why would she? Just like she did in her first life, she lived unapologetically brazen. She didn’t understand that the Evans did not need any more attention from the Dark Lord at the moment. Didn’t learn that the worst possible scenario was the Dark Lord’s undivided attention. Unlike her, she had not been carefully cultivating her skills, building her magical core, or training physically each day. So these little endurance sessions could be… Deadly. Especially if she fell into magical exhaustion.

 

Her anxiety skyrocketed as she noticed the trembling in Lily’s hand and noticed how Huxley’s shoulder pushed her just right to make the charm she cast explode a bit too powerfully.

 

Lily’s sharp cry as a piece of wood hit her snapped her willpower as she wandlessly disintegrated the dummy in front of her. Causing a sharp gasp from the surrounding students. She lifted her wand and vanished the other.

 

“That’s enough!”

 

Ignoring the satisfaction on Huxley’s face, she stepped around him to grab Lily. Hissing as she saw the blood leaking from the cut on her shoulder, she wrapped her arms around her and pulled her past the smug Death Eater.

 

“And just where do you think you’re going, Miss Evans?”

 

“To Madam Pomfrey.”

 

“20 points from Hufflepuff for insubordination.”

 

She ignored him, eyes grateful as she noticed Amy had silently collected both her and Lily’s things. She nodded to Amy, taking them both as she guided her sister out into the hall.

 

“Detention tonight—and for the rest of the week, Miss Evans.”

 

Gritting her teeth, she just kept moving, eyes cold as she kept her chin high.

 

“I’m so sorry, Mia, I just—I’m just so tired.” Lily slurred, her eyes heavy as they walked.

“It’s okay; it’ll all be okay, Lil’s.” She squeezed her tighter, heart racing as she rushed them to the hospital wing.

 

She could take it, but the fucker had to mess with HER sister.

 

By the time the boys made it to the hospital wing, her hair was sparking, nearly levitating around her face as she paced. Sirius rushed to her side, eyes wild as he checked her over. She smiled and shook her head as her gaze moved to Lily’s sleeping form. Their magic connected, caressing against each other before blending together. She exhaled, her body slumping in his hold as her almost sentient hair fell. His body shivered in her grasp, his head bowing down to press their foreheads together as he sighed in relief. His hazy eyes opened, studying her before giving her a chaste kiss, his hand tight around her own as he turned to watch James’s pale form rush over to Lily’s side.

 

“What happened?” he softly uttered, his face devastated as he gently moved a strand of sweaty hair clinging to Lily’s clammy face. His hazel eyes straying to the tight grip she had on the sheets. Severus clenched his jaw as he moved to review the chart sitting by her bedside, rage falling across his face as he read the notes. The sides of the wooden chart splintered under his punishing hold.

 

“Magical Exhaustion. If it had gone on any longer, they would have had to transfer her to St. Mungo’s. The bastard.” Sirius’s eyebrows rose as he turned back to look at her. Remus’s mouth slowly opened as he registered that she had actually cussed. James looked furious as he stood up, hands running through his hair. There was silence, a deep coiling frustration that was building as he stood and looked. A series of emotions flashed across his face as Lily trembled under pale white sheets.

 

“It was Huxley again, wasn’t it?” His voice was cold, much sharper than she had ever heard from him.

 

“Yes, his pride couldn’t handle the thought of two Muggle-born witches defying him.” She enunciated each word as her slightly glowing eyes turned to look into Sirius’s grey. She saw it the moment he understood, the way his magic darkened, the way he swallowed as if she had set a Christmas roast in front of him. He squeezed her hand tightly.

 

“We’ll set him right, won’t we, boys?” He uttered as he moved toward the door—the edict had been delivered.

 

“Yes, we will.” James hissed as he stormed out, his rage building as he headed to their next class, defense. Sirius smiled as he took in the stony faces of Severus and Remus before heading out; they no longer needed to speak, no longer needed to be directed once judgment had been passed. Eyes glancing one last time as he looked upon his goddess, her righteous form shining in the soft candlelight. She had blessed him once more. A boon to soothe the clawing itch that had been growing each day this fucker decided to set his eyes on her divine form—it grew each time he committed heresy. With a skip in his steps, he caught up to the rest, his blood burning in excitement.

 

The trip was silent until they rounded the corner leading to the defense hall.

 

“What’s the plan?” James mumbled, his mouth still tight as his heavy steps pulled him forward.

 

“Let’s play a bit of Follow the Leader.” Sirius chimed in, his eyebrows wiggling as his pupils started to darken. James paused, his once sure steps faltering just a bit as his eyes narrowed, taking note of the change—the dark transformation in Sirius’s demeanor. He shook his head, trying to clear the image from his mind as they all stepped into the classroom. The chime of the bell struck just as they crossed the boundary. Startling the class, Sirius let out a deep barking laugh that caused Professor Huxley to whip around, confusion and curiosity filling his expression as he watched the boys settle into their seats. His aggravation grew only once he noticed Sirius ignored his subtle cue for silence. Sirius looked him in the eyes as he leaned over and told Remus another joke.

 

Huxley turned around, determined not to rise to the bait, his hands coming to pick up the parchments for the next assignment on his desk.

 

“Today we will be working on—” As he moved to step, he stumbled and nearly fell as a tripping jinx hit his legs. The students in the front row screamed, some jumping up as they watched him go down. He grunted as he caught himself on the corner of the desk, his face slowly tinting red as he calmly stood and collected himself, lips tight as his icy glare scanned the room. Only one drew his attention: mischievous black eyes that seemed to mock him. Huxley’s eyes filled with anger when they saw the bright, fanged smile that had taken over Sirius’s face.

 

“Gosh, some professional you are; you can’t even walk properly—perhaps you’re getting senile in your old age.” Sirius uttered as he leaned back into his chair. He winked when he noticed the way Huxley slowly pulled his wand from his robes. The Death Eater’s face was getting redder by the moment. Do it. Give me a reason—Sirius silently begged. He pouted when he saw the rapid movement of his chest. Huxley was trying to calm down, and that, well, that wasn’t fun.

 

“Absolutely abysmal, It looks like some things should be kept in the past.” Severus drawled as he shuffled his papers around. Huxley’s eyes snapped to him as he clenched his jaw. Sirius’s eyes delighted in the large vein making its appearance. Taking a breath, Huxley cracked his neck before readdressing the class.

 

“Again, today we will be working on Deprimo, a blasting charm.” He held up his slightly crumpled stack of parchment. Cries rang out as they burst into flames in his hand—the same icy blue flames that swallowed the professor’s wing last month. He yelped, eyes widening before he dropped the stack, cursing as he brandished his wand and snuffed out the flames. The soft sound of giggling filled the room.

 

“Who Did That?” he bellowed, but his eyes never left Sirius’s form. He sneered when Sirius raised both hands up in appeasement—his hands notably free of a wand.

 

Huxley’s face fell, eyes even colder as he harshly cleared the tables, students crying as they scrambled to catch their falling supplies and jump out of the way of the whizzing tables. They flinched at the loud bang as his magic flung them tight against the walls. The dummies marched from the corners as he violently snapped his wand in the palm of his hand. Sirius laughed louder as he hung on Remus’s shoulder. James was confused and stuck close as Sirius seemed to rush to the front of the line. Severus slid into first place in the other. James looked around, heart beating, as he noticed the silent looks, the tightening of their wands—everyone seemed to know what to do but him. He swallowed hard.

 

“If there is a hint of anything apart from Deprimo being used, retribution will be swift and the house point deduction will be severe. Begin.” He hissed out, eyes shaking as he waited in bated breath for Sirius to cast.

 

A chill descended on the room as the lights flickered. James shuddered as he felt anxious as a darkness seeped from the edges of the room. Sirius raised his wand; it was humming, vibrating in his hand as if it was itching to be used. Goosebumps flushed across his skin as Sirius let out a haunting laugh. It was low and vicious as his hand tightened on his wand. He cast, silently, his dummy exploding into a thousand pieces, the shards shattering more as they ricocheted off the walls. Screams ripped from students throats as they ducked; another explosion as Severus destroyed his in the same brilliant display of power. His eyes were trembling as he saw the vicious grin on both of their faces as Remus yelled out.

 

“Shit! What’s that over there?” He was smiling as he raised his wand, eyes sparkling as he sent a Deprimo near the professor’s desk. Severus yelled out he had seen something too. Sending off another blasting curse that barely missed the rolling body of their professor, students still screaming raced to the door, frantically clawing at the lock before forcing it open. Huxley was yelling as his wand came up. James jumped up from his crouching position as Severus and Remus continued blasting different parts of the room. His heart was racing, terror flooding his system as he noticed Huxley’s wand was pointed at Sirius’s back, a sharp spark of purple igniting from the tip. That was no stunner. His body reacted faster than his mind; the expelliarmus shot from his wand just before Huxley’s curse could finish. His wand shot across the room and into his hands just as Sirius turned and exploded the desk Huxley was crouched in front of. He heard a loud grunt as Huxley was knocked out by a stray shard of wood. He was horrified as he looked at the dark wand in his hand, throwing it on the floor as he took a step back. Godric no.

 

Shards of wood and debris were still raining down in the air when he heard the loud shout of Professor McGonagall.

 

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?”

 

Without skipping a beat, Sirius transformed before his very eyes, as if he shifted instantly from this dark, unknown creature back into the boy he had met in the quidditch shop all those years ago.

 

“Miiiinnnnniiiee! It’s so good to see you, Minnie. You see, we were having a lesson on Deprimo, and it got a bit out of hand.” Sirius’s cold eyes were still black, startling the professor as she tried to take in the surrounding destruction.

 

Sirius stalked over to Huxley’s limp form, crouching low, his head tilting as his eyes roved over him. His voice was light—teasing even. But James simply watched, stunned, as Sirius commanded the room.

 

“Professor Huxley told us we could ONLY use Deprimo, or we’d get points taken off. But there was a rat sneaking around his room that we tried to get, and…” Sirius stood, a playful smile on his face as he walked up to Professor McGonagall. She leaned back, something about him causing her to be wary. Sirius only smiled more as he leaned in, cupping his hand to his mouth as if he were telling her a secret.

 

“I don’t think this bloke is qualified. He fainted at the first sign of the hairy little bugger and knocked himself out.”

 

McGonagall’s stern eyes scanned the faces of the boys, first Severus, then Remus, before finally landing on James. There was something about his twitchy posture that caused her to purse her lips. Pomfrey gasped as she looked around the room; having been called by another student, she narrowed her eyes on Sirius’s smiling face before looking to the unconscious form on the floor. Sirius noticed the slight raise of her right eyebrow; he chuckled before giving her a dazzling smile and a wink. She rolled her eyes before moving, kneeling next to Huxley’s body as she cast a quick diagnostic. Remus heard her quick sigh of relief when it showed no magical residue.

 

“Pomfrey?” Mcgonagall inquired, her sharp tone causing James to flinch. Which only furthered her suspicions.

 

“Just a bump on his noggin, nothing to fret about.” She murmured as she packed away her supplies.

 

“Give me your wand, Mr. Black.”

 

Sirius gleefully handed it over, bouncing on the balls of his feet with a shit-eating grin. As McGonagall confirmed that nothing but Deprimo had been cast, she waved her hand toward Severus; he too handed his over. Sirius’s smile only got bigger as she sighed when his was cleared. Remus, understanding what was coming next, handed his over. When she turned to James, her stern face fractured, a tiny curve started at the corners of her lips as she held out her hand. James paled further as he stepped forward. But before she could take his wand, a voice rang out.

 

“I saw it! It was huge, the rat!” Peter cried from the hallway. Sirius paused, his face turning to Severus. Severus just shrugged his shoulders. He turned to Remus, clocking the deep breath and growing snarl on his face as his green eyes flashed golden. Threat. His heart sank when he looked at James’s face. There was adoration there, relief that was filtering through the bond. His mate trusted this snake. Sirius’s mind whirred, instantly deciding to play along for the moment.

 

“See, Petey boy saw it too!”

 

Peter glowed in that moment, his whole mousy expression morphed into joy as if the whole world was reborn now that he knew Sirius Black knew his name.

 

They were all interrupted as Dumbledore made his way into the room. Sirius bristled at the smug expression on his face.

 

“Goodness, this looks quite frightful.” He waved his wand, and the room righted itself immediately. His twinkling eyes landed on McGonagall.

 

“Did you figure out what caused both houses to flee their lesson in terror?”

 

“It seems it was nothing more than a rat.”

 

Dumbledore’s sparkle fell at the explanation; Sirius nearly growled when he felt the soft brush of legilimency on his mind. He pushed forward his quickly modified memories, ones that starred a very plump, adventurous rat. He gave Dumbledore a vicious smile when the twinkle completely left his eyes and his silly little smile fell into a pensive line.

 

“Well, boys, it looks like you’re free to go. Hurry now, another class is starting.” He waved them out—Remus rushed to swing his arm around James’s shoulder, covertly using his strength to keep him standing as they all made their way out of the class and into the hall. When they were far enough away, James regained his footing. Looking nauseated, he opened his mouth, but Sirius cut him off. Without looking back, his low voice broke the silence of the hall.

 

“Remember Lily James. That was nothing he didn’t deserve. He could have killed her, would have killed her if Hermione hadn’t been there. Huxley’s a Death Eater,” he hissed out. James snapped his mouth shut, his head shaking as he forced himself to process what happened. He looked down at his hands as they walked. They didn’t look like his, they didn’t feel like his—the kind of hands that would join in harming another.

 

They walked in silence all the way to potions. Sirius didn’t dare overlook the slight scent of guilt and fear that trickled off Peter after he mentioned that Huxley deserved it. It was building again, that deep anxiety, that rolling madness, the desire to claw and tear, to rip apart the threats that had dipped their toes into his territory, dared to threaten HIS witch. He shook his jaw, running his tongue across his throbbing canines. He craved it now more than ever.

 

 

Hermione bit her finger as she silenced herself, screaming in the hidden alcove just off the side of the great hall; the combination of pain and pressure relieved some of her suppressed rage. Lily hadn’t woken up since defense class. Her hands itched, her magic crashed underneath her skin as she thought of all the new blood curses she had learned over the summer from the books Sirius had sent her. Maybe a few generational bloodline curses would send a message; perhaps she should just curse his line entirely and have him be the last Huxley to ever exist. She took a deep breath before healing her hand, conjuring a small mirror to fix her makeup and wild hair. The magic shining beneath her irises—well, there was nothing she could do about that. She smoothed her uniform before heading out of the alcove; there was a lightness in her step as she made her way to the hall. She was hoping to hear what hijinks the boys got into.

 

As she stepped into the hall, her heart plummeted. There, standing with the group of boys laughing, was Peter Pettigrew. NO. NO. NO NOO.

 

She wasn’t fast enough; Sirius’s head snapped as if there was a dementor loose in the castle, his eyes frantic as he searched for her. Their eyes met, but before he could take a step, a drove of owls descended on the great hall. Oriel dove for Sirius, another for James. Hundreds of owls descended to other students around the hall.

 

She was stopped by a large grey owl; she hurried to a table as it followed her, her hand reaching out to grab a piece of bacon before quickly pulling the parchment from its leg. Her hands trembled as she unrolled it. Her mind refused to accept the words on the parchment; she spiraled deep as one word caught her attention. DEAD. DEAD. DEAD.

 

A deep, guttural scream tore across the great hall; her muddled mind pushed her to look up as she saw James collapse to the floor, hands tearing at the parchment he received as hot sobs rolled down his face. Sirius was pale, his hands shaking as he leaned down to hold James’s sobbing form. Her feet took her, mind still unwilling to accept what was happening, as she rushed forward, dropping to her knees in front of James. His tearful face hit her; he looked just like Harry in that moment. He scrambled up, throwing himself into her arms as his wails raked across her heart. Tears filled her eyes as she clung to him, hands digging into his robes as she pulled him against her with all her strength. Not again. Not again.

 

She closed her eyes as Sirius moved behind her, crying out in relief as his magic flooded her, desperately trying to soothe the devastation taking over.

 

“It’ll be okay—I swear it. I swear it.”

 

Her eyes, blurry with tears, opened as she comforted James. She didn’t know if those words were just for her or if it was a promise to both of them. Because as she looked down at the crumbled parchment in Sirius’s hand, wet with tears—and blood—the words stabbed her straight through the heart.

 

They got him—they got Alphard. Beware, Huxley.

Mors vincit Omnia

Chapter 49: Landslide

Summary:

Everyone knows Mother Nature is a cruel mistress.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; this is my first fanfic.

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“Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word.”― George R.R. Martin

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October 4th, 1975 Hogwarts Saturday

 

It had been many years since he was last in this room, decades since the last time he stood before the haunting eyes of fabled legacy draped upon the walls—painted eyes that overlooked the current headmaster with a scrutiny most wizards would balk at.

 

“Do not press me on this, Albus—they are my children.” Arcturus growled out as he tapped his finger on the edge of Dumbledore’s desk. Curiosity flooded his mind as he looked at the barren perch next to the window. His ire only increased as he waited, as he looked at the wizard who had ignored his owls and ignored his olive branches, and now, sitting face-to-face, he dared to ignore his words as Lord—he had hated the man on principle before; now it was just a natural, intense dislike of him as a whole.

 

“Two, Lord Black, are your children. The others, however, are not—”

 

Arcturus shifted in his seat, his finger tapping faster as the rhythmic thumping filled the tense silence between their stilted words. He pulled several folded parchments from his front robe pocket and set them upon the tabletop. Spreading them so the house crests pressed into their wax seals could leave no room for misinterpretation.

 

“Since my word as Lord Black is not enough to satisfy you, then perhaps the words of their Heads of House will be. For today they are all MY children.”

 

Dumbledore sat still, hands folded across his lap as he simply waited, the two men locked in a battle of wills as the minutes passed by. Time that was running out.

 

“You would dare to deny my Head of House—dare to deny those children leave to go to a funeral? Really, Albus?” Phineas hissed from his frame—he was just a portrait, just a mimicry of the once fearsome wizard, yet the frame rattled ominously as he paced.

 

“It goes against Hogwarts poli—”

“DO NOT—you know just as well as I that exceptions can be made—have been made. This is not the time to place your wounded pride above a grieving family.” Phineas bellowed. The roaring chant of “Hear, hear” from the gallery filled the room. Hundreds of eyes lingered, judging as they chanted, their frames rattling as they highlighted their displeasure. Hogwarts herself seemed to shudder as the magic in the room condensed. Dumbledore shifted in his seat; the only indication that anything was wrong was the sheen of sweat that started to collect on his brow. Arcturus took note, a smug smile taking over his face as he watched Dumbledore frown before casting several patronuses, four in total, before they shot off to each head of house.

 

He stood rebuttoning his black robes as he moved to wait by the floo, his back turned as he scanned some of the darker books on Dumbledore’s shelves; his eyebrow raised as he noticed the glamoured copy of Secrets of the Darkest Arts—of course, the hypocrite. The now soft whispers of the portraits around him filled his mind with diverging paths, endless possibilities. Perhaps one more attempt was needed—if pride was a wall, perhaps humility would sway him.

 

“I have offered before, and I shall offer it again—House Black is invested in a similar future, the same one you preach about seated above the Wizengamot. We even have a common enemy. We could use your help, your influence, to turn the tide of this war. We have history and prominence, but we do not hold the public as you do.”

 

He could hear the rustling of robes, the slide of a drawer opening, and the shuffling of papers. All insignificant actions, insignificant noises compared to what should have come out of his mouth; instead, just like his movements, his words were just as useless and just as damning.

 

“I am not one to trade one dark lord for another—when we do finally share the same interests, I’ll be sure to respond to your owl Arcturus.”

 

It was childish, he knew that it was; acting on the intense desire to curse the wizard behind him would only alienate them further, but the thought clung to him as he bit his cheek in silence. The small hint of hesitation he had after receiving a bit of truth dissipated, his eyes connected with Phineas. Shining through the painted strokes were eyes just as mad, just as wild as the ones he had seen Sirius with. Inimicus it is.

 

Soon his children trickled in, one after the other. Sirius came first, guiding his witch Hermione; behind him was Euphemia’s boy and the sister—the last in the first group was the Lupin boy. Steely eyes took note of the slight twitch of his nose and the jumpy way he held himself. After many nights working with the young wizard, this was a bit off compared to his normal quiet stoicism. The Prince boy escorted his youngest grandson. A small part of him sighed in relief; they were a bit gaunt in the faces, spirits dimmed, but overall well.

 

He did not need to speak as they gathered; they all knew what was expected of them. Each draped in the deep obsidian robes, ones imbued with runes and charms of protection, handed down within the Black family for generations that devoured the surrounding light—that protected them in their time of vulnerability. Funerals had always been contentious affairs. He guided them through the floo. When all the children had left, he turned one last time to look at the “greatest wizard,” and in that moment all he saw was a frail, lonely man. One of the last of his line.

 

He was a lesson, a reminder of what happened when one forgot that even though they could wield magic, that they could place themselves too high out of the reach of reason, of progress. Magic and men did not suffer fools. He threw the floo powder and stepped into the flames.

 

“Potter Manor”

 

He watched as Euphemia’s boy—James—rushed forward and fell into the arms of his parents, his children surrounding the family, leaning upon each other as they waited. Dorea stood, face blank, as she held a portrait of Charlus next to his headstone in the family burial ground—a beauty, draped in utter desolation and simmering rage; he could feel it in the family magic. It echoed out, screaming from her core as her polished nails bit into the wooden frame. Pride filled him as she acknowledged the waves of witches and wizards that came forward to offer their condolences, never letting her mask slip. He had not had the pleasure of knowing the wizard long, but in the short period of time he had come to respect him and her. The roots of their family had been weakened, chipped away by an ideology that cut the healthiest parts—determination filled him. He walked over to Dorea, his eyes never leaving hers as he closed the distance. He could feel it, her steeling herself to receive his words, his condemnation, or worse, false condolences. Her eyes widened as she watched him start to lower himself in a low bow. He pressed his arm across his chest, his hand resting on his heart as he recited their family rites—the family magic between them bloomed.

 

“Upon the might of Blood and Magic, harken all who gather before us, for the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black swears now—vengeance upon those who have taken what they ought not, for the Blood and Magic of House Black bleeds for those who are worthy of it. Hear now, Charlus Potter was a beloved son and a beloved husband to a loyal daughter of House Black. I, Arcturus Octan Black III, recognize one who is worthy—may he rest in peace. ”

 

He slowly righted himself as the magic around them snapped, hundreds of eyes witnessing the vow as Dorea’s tears finally fell, her trembling lips trying to hold back her sobs as she fell into his open arms. Arcturus held her tightly as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

 

“He will be honored, and we will make sure the ones who took him from you kneel at your feet.”

 

Melania stepped forward, slowly slipping her from his arms and into hers as she whispered sweet nothings—little details of all the new torture devices they had back at the manor for when they found the wretches—as she fixed Dorea’s makeup and smoothed the creases in her robes. With each new device, each new overly embellished detail, it pulled a small but honest smile from Dorea. Walburga silently moved to hold one hand, squeezing gently as she nodded to her, both of their eyes sparkling in madness as they shared a silent conversation. He turned back to the children, his head dipping, signaling to them it was now okay to come.

 

James came first, eyes reddened and puffy as he forced back his fresh tears to place a white rose upon the grave of his uncle. He lingered, his hands coming up to run his fingers over the grooves of his name. Lily came next, offering more flowers as she leaned behind James, hugging him tightly as his body shook. When he finally felt strong enough to stand, he gripped her tightly as she wiped the tears from his face, slowly guiding him over to Dorea. Arcturus’s head dipped in approval; she was a silent, sturdy companion through the grief. The moment they both looked into each other’s eyes, James broke away, rushing to hug Dorea as both of their hands dug into each other’s robes, clinging tightly together. Lucretia’s face was pale as she stepped forward, gently pulling the portrait of Charlus out between them, holding it reverently as the two only pulled themselves together tighter.

 

Dorea’s throat tightened, the ache in her chest twisting as she held James. Pulling back just slightly, she took in his familiar features. Her heart stuttered as she raked her eyes over him; all the pieces of Charlus were shining through, expanding upon her grief. The thickness of his brows, the angle of his jaw, the way he crinkled his nose, and even the way he held himself now. All Charlus. In that moment how desperately she wished she could have had a piece of him, a child of flesh and blood that carried his and her face, a mix of them both that could never be separated—never be parted from each other as they were now. The fates had not granted their wishes, so now she would have to live with the scraps of him scattered across the tiny family she had bound herself to. There was a hollow ache within her chest, growing larger with each passing hour—these pieces of him could only heal so much.

 

She raised her hand, brushing back a wayward lock that had fallen into his face, heart breaking further as he shifted, those little pieces disappearing as reality struck. He was Fleamont’s son, and each day Charlus was gone, he would outgrow his features to be more like his parents, outgrow the subtle touch Charlus had in shaping him—she leaned in, kissing both of his cheeks before turning to Fleamont and Euphemia. They did not have to speak for her to understand the depths of their sorrows; she carried it, carried it all upon her crumbling shoulders. One by one each of the children gave their condolences until the last stood before her. Her nephew Sirius, towering over the others with a quiet strength that she found peace within, the darkness radiating out of him—well, she found joy in it, relief in it as their wild eyes connected.

 

He pulled her into a tight hug; for a brief moment she wondered when he had the time to grow so large.

 

“Sirius. Listen to me.” She whispered through tight lips, her body trembling as she looked to make sure no one else could hear; he squeezed her tighter as if he dreaded her words. He was a true Black; it was becoming more and more clear each time she got to learn a little more about him. He was good in all the ways they weren’t, yet held everything that damned them—so she needed to spare him the same ruin. She had had so little time in his life, so few moments, but she hoped of all of them combined, this would be the moment he took to heart. To rip away his reservations—to give him a push.

 

“I found mine, the only one I’ll ever have. And I will remain in this world without him—only to ensure his death is avenged; after that, I will join him. You’ve found yours, haven’t you, love?” She leaned back, taking in his blackening eyes as he nodded his head. There it was—the scales of the Black Family. She smiled as she patted his cheek; it was a sweet thing, brittle yet full—soft in a way that was startling as it clashed with the burning rage shining in her eyes.

 

“Tear into them, Sirius, anyone who crosses the line; vanish their existence from this world. Because all stars die without their core. You understand it, yes?”

 

Sirius stilled, his magic rolling under his skin as those black eyes locked onto Hermione, his body melting in her hold, his heart racing under her palm as he answered her.

 

“Yes, I understand perfectly.”

 

She leaned up, kissing him on both cheeks before pulling away—she ignored the sorrow in his eyes, ignored the way his hand tightened his hold just before giving in and letting her leave. As she walked over to Lucretia to take back the portrait of her heart, she exhaled in relief when she heard his soft reply. Tears fell as she stared into her husband’s handsome face with an ache that tore through her once more.

 

“You’ll have them before the end of the week; this I swear.”

 

Oh, what a merciful boy.

 

October 10th, 1975 Friday

 

James, numb, sat on the edge of the astronomy tower, the stars above twinkling as if they mocked his despair, daring to be filled with beauty and awe. In his hand was the copy of the prophet, crumbled and ruined with tears, yet he still held on to that imperfect parchment. Unwilling to let it go—not yet. He found a bit of solace as he leaned into Sirius’s side, a darker star than those in the sky, but one that shone in the way he needed, that burned just enough to temper his pain. Sniffling as he waved his hands in front of his face to clear the smoke that had drifted in. For once he couldn’t find the words to scold him. His eyes trailing over the words that stung like a curse.

 

OBITUARY

DOREA BLACK, aged 55, a beloved wife, passed peacefully on October 9th in their cottage home surrounded by loving family. She goes on to join her dearly departed husband, the decorated Auror Charlus Potter, who was killed while on duty on October 1st. The family has asked for privacy during this delicate time.

 

“They say she just didn’t wake up. She had grown so thin so quickly, as if she was turning into stardust—fading before their eyes—yet she was smiling that morning, teasing and full of life like she had been before. Mum said, Sometimes people are born incomplete, and once they’re made whole, they’re not meant to be separated.”

 

James grimaced while he wiped the snot from his nose, his icy hands turning numb.

 

“But they’re together now, buried her right next to Uncle. It just… It just doesn’t feel real, like I’m going to wake up and this will all be some elaborate prank. But it isn’t, is it, Sirius?”

 

“No, no it isn’t, Jamie,” Sirius whispered, pulling his sobbing form into his side as he took a drag of his cigarette. He wasn’t good with this; he had never learned this type of softness in his family, so he pulled from his memories, mimicking what Hermione might do as he rubbed James’s back. His eyes were glassy as he read the words on the ruined prophet shaking in James’s hands—the words that satisfied some of the hunger growing in his chest yet drove him further to madness.

 

HAVE YOU SEEN THEM?

 

Darius Wiltford, age 45, was last seen in Knockturn Alley with a group of unknown individuals on October 8th. Mrs. Wiltford is offering a 100-galleon reward for any information that could lead to his discovery.

 

Caine Lortione, age 38, was last seen leaving his job at Marveu’s Magical Mixorieum on October 8th. While he has no immediate family in Britain, his employers, the Malfoys, have also set out a reward for any information that could lead to his discovery.

 

The Auror Department has officially stated they will be investigating the disappearances due to the nature of both individuals connections and the similarity in which both vanished.

 

 

He closed his eyes as the wind caressed his face, the iciness of the night seeping into his bones, into his soul as he took a deep drag. Chest tightening in pleasure as he slowly exhaled. Each moment he sat beneath the stars, his mind raced as he focused on the small piece of Hermione that lived within his chest, warming him, flooding his veins with magic, with purpose.

 

He understood her—and under the night sky, as they remembered her. He hoped she finally felt whole once more.

 

October 16th, 1975 Hogwarts

 

It was failing her, the one thing she had always prided herself in—her mind. Each new day was a new struggle, a fight against her fears as her plans started to crumble, against the growing alienation of her peers by the Death Eater Dumbledore had welcomed in, and against her animalistic desires to claw out the eyes of the RAT that crept into her territory. Yet she failed to find a way to dig out the claws Peter had buried deep within her boys—short of confessing her secrets or waiting for him to show his true colors. He was everywhere now, in the halls, at their tables, in their conversations, on their minds, and in their hearts. She only wished she could obliviate them all and erase him from their view. He wasn’t The Traitor Peter Pettigrew now—he was simply Petey, a bright boy who was sweet and kind. She forced herself to accept the possibility of an altered fate; everything was different now—yet her mind wouldn’t let it go. The fact his animagus had been a rat. The soul, the core of a person, never truly changed, and that is what the magic used to dictate their forms.

 

But James, oh sweet James, had taken him in under his warm arms, into his soft heart, and spilled forth their secrets with each new passing day. Her subtle hints and cold reception didn’t deter them—she had to swallow down so many versions of “just get to know him, he’s so sweet, you’ll see.” Those words even falling from her sister’s lips—now that had enraged her, causing her magic to spiral just as violently as she had, sending her into a rage that had lasted days as she avoided the whole of them. It took Sirius’s persistent company and quiet whisper of “Don’t worry, I’m keeping an eye on him, love” one evening in the library to pull her out of it. So now she was here, with a fake smile plastered on her face as they sat in the Room of Requirement—as James unraveled the map, another secret he was so excited to share with his new friend.

 

“So, this is something we’ve been working on for so long. A whole map of Hogwarts!” James uttered, bouncing in his seat as he started to unfold it. Sirius was standing behind her, his large hands settling on her shoulders as he tried to rub the building tension in her muscles. She reached up, her hand coming to rest on his wrist, squeezing in gratitude as she felt his magic slowly wrap around her.

 

“Whoa, you guys actually made this?” Peter gushed as he leaned across the table, eyes greedily taking in all the details. She wanted to growl as he moved too closely to James for her comfort.

 

“Yeah, late nights sneaking around, and well, Sirius figured out a way to speed it up. The darn thing flashed last night so brightly it woke us all up—when we checked on it, we realized it had finally completed.”

 

“Bloody Brilliant.” Peter uttered as he leaned back in his seat, his beady grey eyes starting in adoration. Yet there was an undercurrent: her magic whispered envy.

 

“Well, now that it’s complete, it’ll need a name.” Severus chimed in from the table he was sitting at, his hand aggressively writing as he referred back to his astronomy homework. Remus was sitting at the same table as he flipped through the defense tome she had found for him. She could tell he liked it by the way he would smile every so often as his eyes raced across the pages.

 

Hermione sat silently as she watched them think, biting her lip hard as she held back the name she wanted to blurt out so desperately. She shivered before she froze in her seat, eyes blurring as the ambient magic in the room swelled, colliding with hers; a chill crawled up her spine as her heart began to race; the magic continued, spiking dangerously, before crashing in a swell that had stolen her breath, that had caused her to dig her nails into Sirius’s skin. He hissed out as his fingers were dug in on reflex, just bordering on painful, as she felt his panic through the bond. Time slowed as she sucked in a breath, blurry eyes refocusing on Remus’s face as she saw his eyes flash with golden light for just a split second. Her magic buzzing in her ears as she watched something take over him. A recollection and understanding. One that chilled her to her core.

 

“Marauders…Marauder’s Map…that’s… That’s the name.” He sounded the words out as if he was confused, his mouth dry as he tilted his head. He blinked a few times before shaking his head. His eyes were noticeably disoriented. Her heart was slamming against her chest as her body tensed more and more, eyes shaking as she drank in the details.

 

“Whoa, that’s perfect, mate!” Peter chirped as James gave him a dazzling smile, etching the name into the parchment. They were smiling, but she was crashing, crashing into the deep waves of terror as her mind raced, connecting the dots as each second passed.

 

“Well, we need… a password, something worthy of our exploits.” James mumbled as he reviewed the map, his wand tapping on the parchment. The sound bounced in her ears as the splitting pain right behind her eyes grew. Severus had paused his writing, his brows coming together as he turned to study her face. His pale skin flushed as if he was working something out he couldn’t quite understand.

 

She could feel it building again, the magic, swelling this time more violently, rising higher and higher before it crashed; the violent wave tore into her soul. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek as she screamed internally. Tangy iron filled her mouth while those words oozed from his mouth.

 

Peter sat, eyes glazed; a soft flash of black took over before the magic dissipated.

 

“I solemnly swear that I am…up to no good.”

 

Each word felt like a knife stabbing into her mind; her stomach dropped.

 

Her startled gasp turned into a hiss of pain as she tore herself from Sirius’s grasp, startling everyone as she hastily grabbed for her bag. She couldn’t breathe; her chest was squeezing as she rushed from the room—yet she forced out apologies as she moved. Sirius’s shouts were muffled in her ears as she ran down, down, down. She needed to get to her dorm; she needed to see them.

 

“Hermione! Hermione, wait!”

 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I have—I have to go!”

 

She cried as she kept running; she knew the moment he stopped—she could feel his confusion, his desperation, and his terror, but she needed to see them. All thought of keeping a low profile, of remaining calm, vanished as she barreled through the halls.

 

This was bad, very bad.

 

Curses and cries followed her as she ran; cold, icy eyes tracked her movements before disappearing just as she did.

 

She bolted through the common room; pale faces followed her frantic form. She ignored them as she climbed her stairs, ignoring the cries of confusion from Amy as she fell to her knees, arms tearing apart her trunk. She barely registered the harsh bite of stone digging into her skin as she swore.

 

“Mia? Mia Love? What’s going on?”

Amy screeched, her voice climbing higher with each second she didn’t respond.

 

She kept digging, kept clawing, before it dawned on her to use her wand.

 

“Accio calculations!” She nearly screamed, hands trembling as the stacks of parchment hidden in her trunk slammed into her hands.

 

A deep, throbbing pain lanced through her mind again, causing her to falter; her hand slammed into the side of her trunk as she forced herself not to faint.

 

“Noo. Noooo. God, no,” she chanted over and over as she spread each piece of parchment on the floor. Amy was screaming now.

 

“MIA, YOU’RE BLEEDING!”

 

In her desperation she quickly disillusioned her glittering blood; only her eyes could see it sparkling as it dripped from her nose onto the fluttering pages of her arithmancy calculations. Her mind felt like someone was ripping it apart.

 

The once solid outcomes flickered and crashed, the magic waning and cresting as if they were caught in a violent ripple.

 

Her golden eyes lingering on the golden sparkles in the dark red blood.

 

It was unstable.

It was twisting.

 

Time was warping.

Notes:

Sorry, it's going to get a bit rough before it gets better. <3

Chapter 50: Dark Lady

Summary:

There are many symbolic bonds in nature, some beneficial, others deadly.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; this is my first fanfic

TW: Signs of medical distress

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“No person, trying to take responsibility for her or his identity, should have to be so alone. There must be those among whom we can sit down and weep, and still be counted as warriors.”― Adrienne Rich

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October 16th, 1975 Hogwarts

 

He was collapsed against the wall when they found him, hyperventilating outside the Hufflepuff entrance, eyes crazed as he clutched his chest, skin clammy and dull as he struggled to breathe, to speak as they rushed to his side. Severus fell first, his normally calm facade dropping into sheer panic as he pulled his wand and cast a diagnostic. Remus paced, his heart slamming against his rib cage as the wolf within him howled; the pressure in his skull was driving him mad as he bit deeply into his lips—the magic between them was chaotic, toxic as it fluctuated fiercely. Sirius groaned when another wave hit, his nose bleeding as he started to shake. Convulsing on the floor as the bond between them flickered and tugged.

 

“Bloody hell, what is going on?” James screamed as tears fell, his hands were digging into Severus’s shoulder as a cornucopia of lights littered and exploded on the diagnostic panel. Alarms were screaming at them, stats they could not understand dropping and rising like waves in a turbulent sea.

“Fuck, I don’t know—I don’t know! Remus, shit, REMUS!” Severus’s voice bellowed as his wide eyes shook, desperation in his face as he turned to him as if he held all the answers, his hands violently quivering as they held tightly onto his wand. Remus recoiled, dragging his mind into the present, to the flashing lights and screaming warnings—green blended into gold as he choked. He knew this, read about this.

 

“It’s magical backlash; it’s sending him into cardiac arrest—fuck, but why? We need—we need Pomfrey. This, this is too much.” He cried as he rushed forward, hand cradling Sirius’s face, trying to wake him. Nothing he was doing was working, his body now spasming, twisting, and writhing as it beat against the stone floors.

 

“Peter!” Remus roared as he gently nudged Sirius’s face up, hissing at the icy coldness of his cheeks as he leaned in and checked if he was breathing. For a moment, Remus swore he saw delight take over Peter’s face; one blink was all it took for the image to transform into desperate terror as the mousy snake pulled at his dirty blonde hair at the end of the corridor.

 

“Go, Pete! Get Madam Pomfrey.”

 

Shaken, he snapped out of his trance, nodding before bolting off down the hallway and toward the hospital wing. The wolf within him snarled viciously as it watched him flee.

 

“No, no, no—he’s not breathing! SEVERUS, HE’S NOT BREATHING!” Remus screamed, his face trembling as he leaned over Sirius’s mouth. Nothing brushed against his face, no sounds, no scents, nothing but stillness now—icy cold magic leaking off him. Severus slammed his hands into his hair, jumping up in panic to pace, his mind racking over what spells he needed. Scrambling when his mind finally provided the answer, he quickly raised his wand and uttered breathlessly, “Revennerate!”

 

There was a loud gasp as Sirius came alive, disoriented and panicked as he clawed against Remus’s tight hold. He was gasping, fighting with everything in him as his color started to return.

 

“herm..”

 

“HErmion—“His voice was slurred as his head shook, eyes twitching back and forth trying to find her. They gasped in pain as they felt the full force of the magic tearing through his body through the bond. Severus gagged as he fell, his head resting on the wall Remus and Sirius’s were pressed up against, eyes closing tightly in pain as he tore at his robes, groaning out as he tried to push through it.

 

“HERMIONE!” It was deep, guttural, and filled with despair as it tore from Sirius’s lips. Remus felt the soft drips of tears on his forearms. He winced as he held on, heart clamoring as his magic pushed back through the bond, the wolf within him guiding his will, protecting his core as his arms burned from Sirius’s claw marks, branded from his icy magic. James collapsed, his back resting against the other wall, breathing fast as he watched, frozen under the stress of it all, his hand unconsciously rubbing at his sternum as he babbled. “No, no more, not another one.” All of them jumped when they heard the loud slam of the Hufflepuff door opening and shouts and cries of Badgers as a seventh-year rushed through the entryway carrying a limp body.

 

“HERMIONE!” Sirius fought harder as his eyes found her—magic building, coiling in his chest as it spilled out. The lights in the hall flickered as a low, haunting rumbling rose from the depths of the castle underbelly. Hogwarts was screaming.

 

“SHE’S NOT BREATHING, SHE’S NOT BREATHING!” Amy screamed into Beth’s arms, their eyes red. Amy’s hands shimmered in the candlelight, pressing against Hermione’s pale cheeks. The group froze when they heard Sirius’s desperate cries, when they saw the large, dark, writhing cloud of magic radiate out of his snarling frame. Screams of terror filled the hall as the crowd stumbled and scrambled to back away—to flee. Pandemonium descended.

 

The castle started to shake, the walls pressing in and out as if it was alive, as if it was struggling for breath; students tumbled and fell as Sirius’s magic pressed down and condensed, choking them in a thick cloud of magical rage. More screams roared as a thunderous crack filled the hall. In that moment all the portraits fell, crashing against the stone floors as shards of wood scattered—as space seemed to warp right in front of their eyes.

 

A small figure collapsed, its dark form curling in on itself. Large, scarred hands moved to pick it up, wincing as it cradled it against his chest. Alphard coughed as he leaned into Arcturus, the strain of apparition pulling on his still-healing wounds. Orion rushed forward, his strong hands reaching, pulling as he effortlessly dragged Sirius up and into his arms.

 

“HERMIONE! NO, LET ME GO! LET ME GO!” Sirius screamed, his voice hoarse as tears fell, his eyes unable to leave her lifeless body. Orion grunted out a silent apology before wandlessly stunning Sirius, his face pale as he held his unconscious body tighter to his chest.

 

Arcturus commanded the room as he ordered the family Mediwizard to take Hermione from her housemates’ arms; they fought, confused by these unknown figures. He raised his wand, a bright white light enchanting them as he cast “nunc requiem.” One by one the students fell gently as they were lulled into a deep sleep.

 

The boys, the only ones unaffected, watched on in silence as the group moved swiftly, casting a mass obliviate as the Mediwizard ran his diagnostic, his wand swishing violently as he cast multiple spells upon Hermione. They cried in relief when a deep, greedy inhale rang out. As her weak arms raised in the air, the wizard sighed in relief before whispering what looked like the same spell cast on the others, her arms falling as she fell into an untroubled rest.

 

“Arcturus!” The mediwizard hissed, his form petrified as he stared down.

 

Alphard groaned as he braced himself on the castle walls, arms straining under the weight of the creature in his arms. Severus was the first to act, jumping up to support his slowly weakening form. Remus jumped up next, his body going into a defensive posture, his wand arm raised as the clattering sounds of steps bounced off the hall. James, finally aware, moved so fluidly, his shoulder aligning with Remus as his wand hand raised.

 

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Huxley’s curious voice rang out; behind him, Peter gripped the edges of his sleeves, eyes unable to meet James. His icy blue eyes widened as he took in the multiple unconscious students littered throughout the hall.

 

“Arcturus! Now!” The Mediwizard yelled.

 

Orion gently laid Sirius down on the stone, his wand instantly in his hands as he rose to his full height, muscles bulging as he calmly stepped forward, placing himself in front of Remus and James. Arcturus rushed over to the Mediwizard—Emet, brows furrowed when he saw how still he was, how his breathing was fast—too fast. But then, he glanced down, his eyes shaking as he looked upon Hermione’s resting form. She was covered in blood—golden red, sparkling in the light as the ambient magic in the air danced around it. Power radiated from her—from it. He didn’t think; he simply raised his wand and tried to vanish the blood. He clenched his jaw as it failed—again and again he tried, but it remained, taunting him until he forced his will into his wand, vanishing the blood. Knees shaking as he felt himself become woozy, the amount of power needed to get rid of it drained him immensely.

 

“Do… Do not speak of this to anyone—do you hear me?” Arcturus hissed, his eyes piercing Emets. The wizard raised his hands in supplication, his head bowing low, his vow whispered between his lips as the surrounding air settled.

 

“As you wish, my lord.”

 

Loud booms rained down behind him; he whipped around, groaning as his hand came up to steady his wobbling head. Too fast. He waited just a moment before forcing himself to steady, to move to help Orion, who was fending off the hexes of what seemed to be a professor.

 

“ENOUGH!” A shrill cry rang out; Arcturus winced at the voice. His head turned just slightly when he heard the soft sigh of relief from Remus.

 

“Who are you?” The short woman hissed, her knotted wand raised. Her face was soft, but her body moved with deadly precision as she eyed the mass of unconscious students behind them.

 

“Lord Black, I am here because the family magic warned me that my heir was in imminent danger.”

 

“It’s true, Professor Sprout, they just—appeared when we needed help.” James rushed forward, his hands up in surrender.

 

“Peter was supposed to go get Madam Pomfrey, but he got Professor Huxley instead.” Remus growled out, eyes narrowing on the quivering snake hiding behind the suit of armor at the end of the hall.

 

“Is that true?” She turned her head to the defense professor, her shrewd eyes focusing on his hesitation before he ultimately confirmed their statements.

 

“Excuse me, but I need to get these two into a bed, or at least somewhere I can check them both out," Emet commanded as he rubbed his sweaty face. He had two diagnostic screens blazing, the stats fluctuating wildly. He was mumbling spells as he cast them over both Hermione and Sirius.

 

Professor Sprout’s face crumbled, eyes softening as she lowered her wand.

 

“Go, get them to where they need to be. Professor Huxley and I will take care of the rest—boys? You’ll take them, yes?” James nodded as he rushed forward; Emet had both levitating as he followed James. Remus moved, standing shoulder to shoulder with Orion. There was a current in the air as he watched Huxley’s face twist in anger before shoving past them to tend to the group of Hufflepuffs behind them. Severus helped Alphard, wrapping his arms around his waist as the older wizard leaned on him for support. Nox, still limp in his hold.

 

“I thought you couldn’t apparate into Hogwarts.” Severus questioned as they kept a fast pace.

“You can’t; elves can, but it wards off any other witches or wizards, some creatures too.” Orion uttered, his eyes never leaving Sirius’s pale face as they walked.

“Yet…” His voice was low as the implication filled the silence.

 

“Little bugger, he gave us all a fright when he snapped his fingers and pulled us all together, screaming about how we needed to go—he… He must have broken through with sheer will alone.” Alphard mused as he let his mask fall in place once the hospital wing came into view.

 

McGonagall stood like a sentry at the entrance, her normally impeccable appearance destroyed, her hair falling from its normally tight bun, her face pale and shocked as she viewed the group, her eyes landing on Hermione and Sirius.

 

“I guess this must be the cause of the anomaly.” Her clipped tone was riddled with disbelief as she guided them into the hospital wing. Pomfrey jumped up, directing Emet where to place them. Emet set down Sirius first, and as he turned to place Hermione, the loud shrieking of the diagnostic alarms blared through the room. James and Remus slapped their hands over their ears as it continued. Pomfrey’s white skin glowed in a rosy red hue from the flashing lights, her mind whirling as she tried to find the cause.

 

Without speaking, she turned and enlarged the bed Sirius was resting on, harshly directing Emet to place Hermione down next to him. As soon as their hands touched, the sounds cut off sharply—normal rhythms, normal stats. Both healers backed away, holding their breaths as they waited. After a few minutes of remaining stable, Pomfrey turned to the group.

 

“I don’t know what is going on, but we need to figure it out quickly.” She huffed as she moved to record everything down.

 

“Where is Dumbledore?” Pomfrey questioned as her hand swished across the clipboards.

 

“He’s been out, out all week with meetings with other ICW members—”

 

Pomfrey scoffed before her eyes turned to the group, her face stern as she waited for more.

 

McGonagall’s harsh eyes snapped to the boys. Remus jumped to answer.

 

“We… We were just hanging out in the…” His eyes glanced to Severus; McGonagall took notice of the deference. When Severus gave a short nod, Remus continued.

 

“In the Room of Requirement—”

“The what?” Alphard inquired, curiosity burning as he fell into the nearest chair, sighing in relief as he readjusted the elf in his arms. Emet moved, coming over to cast another diagnostic tsking as several soft purple lights appeared. He moved to kneel, hands digging in his robes as he pulled countless vials to hand over. Alphard took them without complaint, downing each. The soft purple slowly dimmed on the screen.

 

“It’s a hidden room in Hogwarts on the seventh floor—it, it gives you what you need if you know how to ask. Anyway, we were hanging out in the room, and Hermione suddenly got pale before bolting. Sirius was freaking out and ran out after her.” Remus started to pace, his mind filtering through the memories.

 

“We didn’t know what was going on and decided to go after them. It took a bit, but we found Sirius outside the Hufflepuff common room, but he was… he was on the ground struggling to breathe.” His voice cracked as he let it all out.

 

“I, I’m a bit familiar with healing spells, so I cast a diagnostic charm, but I didn’t know what anything meant.” Severus added, his face blank as he gravitated toward the bed holding them both.

 

“I had read about it… in a book Hermione gave me last year—it was magical backlash.” Remus forced out as he ran his hands through his hair.

 

Pomfrey and Emet hissed out in displeasure.

 

“Then he was shaking, shaking so violently, he—Sirius wasn’t breathing, and he was so, so cold—” Remus choked as he started to hyperventilate. Pomfrey jumped into action, wand waving as several vials burst from her back office, speeding through the air into her waiting hands. She moved, strong arms guiding Remus to another chair before handing him a vial.

 

“Calming draught—we need you to keep going.” She gently pushed, smiling when he shakily nodded his head before downing the vial. Instantly his tense body melted into his seat.

“He, he wasn’t breathing. I held onto him, trying to wake him before—”

 

“I cast a revenerate.” Severus added.

 

“Then, he was breathing again, but he didn’t know what was going on; he started to fight, started screaming for her. And that’s when the doors opened… And they were carrying her. Hermione wasn’t breathing.”

 

Pomfrey just nodded as she noticed the claw marks on Remus’s arms and neck—she moved to heal them while he talked.

 

Remus’s head turned, eyes connecting with Severus. The adults noticed the war, the silent conversation. It lasted longer, but eventually Severus nodded his head. Remus turned to James—another silent conversation—before he too nodded.

 

“Then… I…we felt it through the bond…” His voice was low as his gaze dropped, and his leg started to bounce as he picked at the corner of the chair.

 

“The… bond?” Orion’s low voice questioned as he moved to stand straighter, confusion pouring over his face.

 

“Yes… The pack bond…”

 

Pomfrey’s hands stilled.

 

“Did you?”

 

Remus flinched as the accusation speared through him; even with the calming draught, he started to tense, his heart rate increasing as he felt the stares of the adults around them.

 

“NO!—” James jumped up, yelling, unable to bear the judgmental stares directed at his friend.

 

“I mean no, he, he never bit us or anything…” A deep blush was coming over his face; he groaned before dragging a hand down it.

 

“Wemighthaveallbecomeanimagustohelpwiththefullmoons—” James spat out so quickly the words were barely comprehensible.

 

Arcturus blinked, eyebrows raising to his hairline as he looked at each boy. He knew, of course, about Sirius and Severus, but the knowledge that Hermione and James had also completed a very advanced form of magic shocked and delighted him.

 

“And, on the first moon, we were all together… It kind of just snapped into place, the bond.” Remus pushed out.

 

McGonagall’s loud sigh of exasperation filled the hospital. She conjured a chair and sank into it roughly, hands coming up to rub her forehead as she just shook her head.

 

“So, you all have a pack bond because you all performed something very illegal and highly regulated for a reason… at your age—advanced transfiguration—to help Remus with his highly dangerous transformations. And this… What?”

 

“It…it came through the bond; whatever was affecting Sirius and Hermione came through. My magic only resisted with the help of my wolf, but I think it got Severus the worst, then James. It was like this horrible piercing pressure and magic.”

 

Mcgonagall tensed, her head slowly coming up as she narrowed her eyes.

 

“Imagine my surprise when I woke to Hogwarts wards vibrating; something had triggered her defenses. It was a newer ward placed by Dumbledore this year—it only responds to a strong violent intent and high magical presence. A simpler version of the curse Hermione placed on the school, except it responds to attack the culprit.”

 

Remus understood right away, his mind connecting pieces of information.

 

“He was terrified, I felt it—and he cares very deeply for her. His magic was explosive and unconstrained when he went after her, and even after he awoke.”

 

“And you all must be the reason the sentries were almost deployed—how did you get here?” She questioned Arcturus.

 

“Hermione’s elf—broke through the wards. It must have taken advantage of the castle’s distraction and found a way through.”

 

“The elf?” Pomfrey inquired.

 

“Perfectly fine, just exhausted and resting.” Emet answered as he moved back to Sirius and Hermione.

 

“Try moving them apart again.” Pomfrey directed, slowly standing and brushing her robes as she walked over.

 

Emet moved, gently levitating Hermione and slowly moving her further away from Sirius. He barely made it to the end of the bed before the alarms and lights started screaming again. He quickly placed her back, this time closer than before, and their stats instantly went back to normal.

 

Pomfrey looked to Orion and Arcturus, eyebrow raised.

 

They both shook their heads in acknowledgment.

 

“What? What was that about?” Mcgonagall questioned, deeply disturbed by the silence.

 

“Healer?”

 

“Emet, madam.”

 

“Please let me know if you agree with my observations. Due to some sort of magical reaction, both Hermione and Sirius were affected due to the… bonds they share. One or the other was trying to assist, but instead, combined with the continued attack by the castle, it created a severe magical backlash in both. And due… to these bonds and the severity of their magical exhaustion fighting it, they are pooling what little reserves they have left.”

 

“Yes, the bond is stabilizing them until they both can reach safer levels.”

 

Arcturus cleared his throat, catching the attention of everyone in the room.

 

“Due to the nature of the incident and the involvement of my heir, I will need a vow of silence from all of you here. This is not a request.”

 

“You cannot force any witch or wizard to swear a vow, Lord Black.”

McGonagall rose, her body tense as her shoulders squared. Before the tensions could rise further, Madam Pomfrey raised her wand.

 

“I, Poppy Pomfrey, swear upon my magic not to disclose the events of this night of—October 16th, 1975—to anyone outside this room.”

“I, Emet Tollson, swear upon my magic not to disclose the events of this night—October 16th, 1975—to anyone outside this room.”

 

One by one each swore until only McGonagall was left, her cheeks flushed as several eyes pressed down upon her.

 

“Professor—please, this is really important.” James urged, his eyes glassy as he stood next to Severus. His voice was soft as he slowly moved, crouching as he rested his head on his palms, elbows balanced at the end of the bed, holding his two friends. She faltered as she watched them slowly move closer, worry and sadness taking over their expressions as the soft beeping of the diagnostics filled the silence.

 

“I, Minerva McGonagall, swear upon my magic not to disclose the events of this night—October 16th, 1975—to anyone outside this room.”

 

Before they could relax, Severus moved, face determined, toward the exit.

 

“Lord Black, the other professors…

 

Arcturus moved, Orion and Remus close behind; McGonagall reluctantly followed, after being assured by both healers that it was safe to leave.

 

Professor Sprout and Huxley worked silently as they slowly woke each student, checking each of them over before cautioning them that they needed to return to their dormitories. Sprout’s confusion only grew as each student confessed they didn’t exactly know what had happened or why they were in the halls. The portraits that had fallen, thankfully, did not house any entities as they fixed their broken frames and placed them back onto the walls.

 

Huxley’s suspicions only grew further along with his frustrations as each student showed signs of obliviation. The Dark Lord was not a wizard that accepted non-answers. He was cursing to himself, mind unfocused, until he came across bright blonde hair—there on the ground covered in golden red blood was the Evans girl’s friend. Satisfaction filled him as he turned to make sure Professor Sprout was distracted and collected some blood into a handkerchief. He moved to vanish the rest, brows rising when several of his attempts failed. He tried again, this time forcing as much power as he could through it. His hands were shaking, and his heart was racing when it finally disappeared. How curious.

 

He called Peter over under the guise of helping prop up the badger.

 

Slipping his hand into his robe pocket, he leaned over a bit and whispered.

 

“You know what to do with this, don’t you, boy?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Now, go.”

 

It took several more minutes before the loud shuffling of feet reached the hall. Huxley rose, face blank as he watched the group corner Professor Sprout first, pulling a vow out of her before turning to him.

 

He smiled as they came closer.

 

“My, what an exciting evening.”

 

“One that you will swear not to speak of.” Orion hissed, stepping around the boys before getting pulled back by Remus.

 

“And why would I do that?” his smug voice grating against the group.

 

“Because as your headmistress, I demand it.” Mcgonagall commanded as she walked around the group, wand raised as she waited.

 

“And, I will ensure, one way or another, you will not speak of this if you do not swear tonight.” Arcturus calmly stated, his steely eyes softly shining in the half-light.

 

Huxley chuckled a bit before raising his wand.

 

“I, Mortimer Huxley, swear upon my magic not to disclose the events of this night—October 16th, 1975—to anyone outside this hall.”

 

 

Remus’s wolf was howling again, growling and tearing into the open spaces of his mind. His nose twitched, scenting the faint, tangy iron on Huxley’s hands—it clicked. His eyes moved rapidly, searching the hall for familiar dirty blonde hair; when he found none, he tugged on Severus’s sleeve. He jerked, there was a soft clattering down the hall, and just as he got Severus’s attention, both eyes caught the flash of green robes and blond hair before it vanished.

 

“Fuck!”

Notes:

I know, I'm sorry, I don't like cliffhangers, but I needed to break this up a bit.

Thank you for reading and all your support. <3

Chapter 51: Megalomania

Summary:

The seasons are cyclical; sometimes the steady rhythm of nature falters and changes.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic.

TW: Suicidal Ideation

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“One day can change your life. One day can ruin your life. All life is is three or four big days that change everything.”― Beverly Donofrio

---

October 17th, 1975 Hogwarts Early Morning

 

Thirsty, he was so thirsty as his shaking hands broke off the icicles growing on his robes, scarfing them down for some sort of relief. It was always cold where he was now—again, why? Why couldn’t they leave him alone? His throat was ripped to shreds from screaming into the dark void that surrounded him. It hurt, but the silence hurt more; silence meant he would think. Thinking meant he would see them; thinking meant he would feel. And so he screamed, screamed until the blackness crept back, until the nothingness took over. It was always cold, always dark. Hungry—desperately hungry as he clawed at the stone walls caging him in—why, why couldn’t they feed him? Sometimes it was quiet, sometimes his muddled mind would hear the crash of waves, and sometimes he would smell the sharp, salty scent slipping through the cracks. But then they came, dark magic oozing from their hovering forms—cold, cold, cold—he felt so numb as they ripped and fed upon him—howled as they pulled those memories forward. Nails dug deeply into taut flesh as he writhed in agony—he wanted to rip it out, this thing living within his chest. It’s all they wanted; if he just let them have it, he could rest. He just wanted to rest.

 

The rusty black bars rubbed against his snout, pulled against the fur on his shoulders as he forced himself forward, yelping in pain as his ribs caught between the steel—not yet, not yet.

 

The stench was overwhelming; it burned his nose as sharp decay filled his tiny cage. Another one gone, gone, gone, gone. Laughing, always laughing, but they didn’t like it—dirty wands in dirty hands with dirty magic that raked across his body. He just wanted to go away, wanted to feel the breeze on his face, wanted to plummet below into the waves beneath his feet—wanted to let the water consume him. Oh, what a joy it would be to die. Blood filled his mouth as his sharp fangs gnawed against the rusted bars. Kill, kill, kill—he needed to kill him, needed to sever his head from his shoulders and devour his heart—he had betrayed them!

 

Betrayed his heart, his soul!

 

He was crying into his hands, sharp nails digging into his cheeks as he rocked in the corners of his cage. They were there once more, torturing him with images that broke him, that stabbed and tore and flayed him. Icy, always icy—frigid frost that filled the room, that grew over his body. When would it all end? He just wanted it to end—but not yet, not before he killed him.

 

He had to go; he…she needed him, she needed him. It was warm; it was too warm against his icy heart. It filled him with indescribable pleasure and intolerable pain as he roared, collapsing as it singed each and every nerve within his body. He needed to protect her—it was so warm, all he wanted was to be warm once again. He clawed, he begged, he crawled, and he dug his bloody fingers into the ground as he moved. Hair no longer caught, his ribs easily slipping through the bars of his cage, his ears ignored the screams around him as he followed the salty scent of the sea—he found the ledge and jumped. Down, down, down. He laughed as the wind crashed against his tattered robes, against his guant face; exhilaration filled his body as the scent of the sea filled his lungs. As the sharp pain of the crash vibrated up his legs, as the waves swallowed him whole—he smiled.

 

He was free. The sun within his chest drove off the cold as he swam—he would protect her. He would kill him. The rhythmic waves of the sea dimmed as they transformed into a soft beeping. His eyes fluttering as he rose straight up—as he forced himself to inhale deeply, before opening his eyes, his sight clearing as he swallowed down his growing rage. Sirius blinked, trying to force the sleep from his eyes as his mottled memories swirled in his head. He swallowed, trying to figure out why his mouth tasted like rust, like iron and salt. It slipped away, his dream, sank deep into subconscious, into the darkness of the void. It tickled on the edge of his mind, rested on the tip of his tongue—there was something he needed to do, someone he needed to protect.

 

Where was she?

 

His entire body jolted as his fingers caressed hers, coming alive, filling with warmth, with power, as if he had swallowed the sun. Tears filled his eyes as he noticed her pale skin and shadowed eyes—relief flowing through him as the magic between them rose and combined. The coldness in his chest eased as he lowered himself onto his side. The magic settled on them both like a soft blanket—a shield from the chaos behind their sheltered curtains. Shifting to get a better view of her face, he winced; his muscles were sore, his chest felt bruised, and with each delicate inhale he could feel his ribs pinching. Yet the sight before him mesmerized him. Ignoring the pain that radiated through his skin, he soaked in the divine presence of his goddess. His sight blessed as he drank in her features; even resting, she tempted him—enchanted him. Shaky hands played with her soft curls, curling them around his fingers until he couldn’t help but bring a few strands to his lips.

 

His pulse was slowly rising as he watched her move. Of course he had watched her wake before, but each time was new; each time held a piece of her that was new, slightly different from the last but just as decadent—others, more familiar ones he hungered for, dying to just have one more memory. The way she licked her lips, the way her brow furrowed as she shifted, the way her eyelids fluttered as she slowly awoke. The soft moan as she turned toward him as she sought him even in her sleep lit his body aflame. The sounds of beeping increased as his eyes began to dilate, as her pink lips opened just slightly for a soft murmur. Shifting closer, he ran a finger down her cheek, smiling as he noticed her eyes slowly opening, those lovely golden eyes that landed on him, that made him feel as if he could conquer the world. The smile she blessed him with nearly killed him as his pulse picked up its pace, his bruised heart crying out at the strain—he felt charged, he felt drugged, but god, he loved it. They ignored the increased beeping from both of their monitors as he leaned forward, only one thing on his mind. He needed to kiss her, needed to taste her on his tongue. The rosy flush of her cheeks finally did him in—killed any other thought as he leaned forward. He was so hungry.

 

Hermione screamed, eyes wide as a deeper blush erupted across her face as the curtains surrounding them ripped open. Sirius’s body reacted on its own, jumping up to cover her as he faced the intruder; a deep rumbling growl filled the air.

 

“Enough of that, Mr. Black!” Madam Pomfrey chided as she ignored his growing sneer, her knowing eyes moving to both diagnostic screens as she whispered about teens and bloody hormones. Hermione squeaked in embarrassment as she quickly realized where they were. Deep bellowing laughs came from behind their curtains as Alphard struggled through the pain of each pull of his chest wounds.

 

“Alright, these vitals look good enough—time for both of you to separate. It’s bad enough we had to place you together, but now there is no reason to.”

 

“Excuse me, yes, there is. The reason is I would rather not move.” Sirius sputtered as he held Hermione tighter; the deep pout on his face only made his uncle laugh harder. Hermione’s rising panic forced a giggle from her lips as deep groans rang out somewhere behind her. Merlin, there were more people in here than she thought. She buried her face into his chest; the move, unfortunately, was too much for Sirius’s overstimulated brain. His attention snapped back to her, a goofy smile on his face as he leaned in to kiss her head.

 

“Ah, ah, it seems you’re the more severe case.” Pomfrey just shook her head before snapping her wand. Sirius yelped as they were forced apart and he was levitated up and out of the bed into the one next to her, his pout transforming into a fearsome scowl as his body settled on top of the sheets. His arms crossed in defiance, a low growl rumbling through his chest as she moved to give him a once-over. A tray followed her as she huffed, poking and prodding different parts of him, taking note of each time he winced or twitched.

 

“Much better than before, Mr. Black. You need to take these.—” She set a few vials down beside him.

 

“Before you can even think of getting out of that bed to sit by Miss Evans—understand?”

 

“Perfectly,” dramatically huffing as he pulled up each vial and made a point to loudly gag after each one. He nearly broke the glass on the last as he slammed it down on the side table before rushing out of bed to swoop into the seat next to her bed. Orion paused midstep, rolling his eyes as he turned around and found another chair. Alphard wheezed deeply before crying out. Emet’s twinkling eyes gave away his amusement before checking the time and silently offering another pain potion. One Alphard downed without a second thought.

 

Hermione finally found the courage to uncover her face. Sirius moved, large hands coming to rest on each of her arms as he helped her sit up, fretting as he fluffed her pillow while Pomfrey read her vitals. Bouncing in his seat, with each second that passed, his anxiety grew so large to the point that he felt Hermione’s soft hand coming to rest on his— her touch and knowing gaze stilled him. Their bond was strong now, much stronger than it had been. Nothing made sense. One moment she had been fine, mildly annoyed with Peter but fine all the same, and then the next everything had fallen into hell. He had never been so scared in his life, to feel her slipping away from him, to feel her magic sputtering and dimming in his chest.

 

“What Happened?” Hermione questioned, mind a bit confused since the last memory she had was reviewing her arithmancy papers. Pomfrey paused, eyes narrowing before she delicately explained what had happened. Hermione paled, her eyes raking over Sirius, checking him for wounds—he only smiled, shaking his head to reassure her.

 

“Hmm… I think it would be best to keep you for another night. There are some…irregularities I’d like to look into.”

 

Emet stood; that was all Arcturus needed to understand—that it was time to step in. Before he could comment, Hermione let out a soft whimper as she moved to clutch her head. Sirius jumped up to hold her, moving onto the bed as Pomfrey’s growing frown watched as her vitals rippled.

 

His mind was racing as each small noise she made cut into him; the sight of her growing tears rolled through him like a crucio. His heart stopped completely in his chest long enough to have his diagnostic screaming before it sputtered and raced as his grey eyes followed the path of golden red blood dripping from her nose. Pomfrey jumped back. Orion’s strong hands landed on her shoulders, pulling her back while Arcturus and Emet slipped forward. Turning, they cast protections around her bed, enlarging the curtains before snapping them closed. Pomfrey’s panicked shout was cut off as Arcturus layered one privacy ward after the other.

 

Oh no.

 

There were many things she had planned for, many things she had hoped to do—but she froze as she saw what had caused their panicked measures. Her shaking hands slowly wiped the blood from the white sheets; it smeared, staining the cloth as her anxiety shot through the roof. She couldn’t occlude fast enough. In and out, each new inhale took less time than the last as she tightly gripped the sheets, eyes shaking as she started to spiral.

 

“Hermione… Hermione! Love, please breathe.” His large hands cupped both of her cheeks, gently turning her head to look at him. Moving to rest his head against hers, he looked into her wide eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Come on, beautiful, follow me. It took a few tries before she understood, eyes never leaving his as she rushed to match his pace. He was struggling, sweat rolling down his back as her magic ran wild underneath his hands. Taking it in, letting it fill him, letting it sear through his veins instead of hers. In and out, he let it flow through him, and once it finally calmed, he sent it back, the cycle repeating until her frantic breathing returned to normal, until she melted in his hands—golden eyes closing as blood continued to drip.

 

“It’s okay, princess. Just tell me what you need—please, let me help you.”

 

It was always going to happen—she had sworn to herself that she would tell him eventually. To be honest, it burned; it tore at her the longer she had to bite her tongue or lie in all those small ways—but she couldn’t find the strength to do it now. Sirius noted the way she seemed to dim, the way her eyes jumped from Emet to Arcturus, and the way she swallowed the words she wanted to say.

 

“Leave—now.” He commanded.

 

They both lingered for a moment, hesitant to cross the boundaries they had set up—until they felt the sharp sting of crackling magic against their skin. Arcturus looked upon his heir; the questions burning on his tongue vanished. Sirius’s leg dangled off the side of the bed; from its spot on the floor, dark tendrils crawled across the tiled floor, spreading like ink in water, trying to latch on to their muted shadows. He took a step back, his arm coming to grip Emets tightly.

 

“I said leave.”

 

They both bowed their heads as Arcturus parted the curtains and dragged Emet out along with him—wincing as the sharp, shrill curses of Madam Pomfrey filled his ears.

 

“I don’t care! They are MY PATIENTS!”

 

“This is a Black family matter—one of the highest importance.” Orion growled out as he continuously thwarted Pomfrey’s efforts to disassemble the wards they had placed.

 

“They both nearly died! You understand that much, don’t you, brute? And I understand enough to know if one—just one of them—goes down, we will lose both! So move!”

 

“We can’t—not yet at least. They… need a moment.”

Arcturus stated as he rubbed his temples; weariness had settled in his bones.

 

“This is HIGHLY improper—”

 

“Yet—it must happen. We want to understand just as much as you do. It is my SON in there, my SON that I had to stun before he brought the castle down around us.” Orion yelled, frustration finally boiling over as he raised his wand. Pomfrey backed away, her wand clenched tightly as she watched him, lips pressed tightly together.

 

“Alright… Alright. We wait then.” Pomfrey conceded.

 

As soon as they left, Sirius moved, wandlessly summoning his wand. He transfigured the bed wider before moving fully onto the bed. He pulled her down, gently wiping her blood with his fingers before easing her down onto his chest. She went along willingly, snuggling into him as he adjusted until both of them were comfortable. Running a hand through the bottom of her curls, his head tilted so he could bury his face into the bushy mass—inhaling deeply as her apple blossom scent filled his lungs. There were so many things they needed to say, needed to do, but he cherished his small reprieve. Everything felt less dire when he got to hold her.

 

Ever since he met her, his world had evolved and changed. What he desired had evolved and changed, yet one of the things he knew in his soul was that he was hers. He had already sold what little soul he had left; perhaps it was time to offer up his heart as well—perhaps it was time to confess his sins, lay them upon her altar. To let her bless or condemn him to eternal hell.

 

“Princess?”

 

She snuggled into his chest tighter.

 

“Yes, siri?”

 

“I love you.”

 

Clamping down and holding her tighter, he ignored her soft gasp and let the words he had been struggling to contain free.

 

“I love you. I think I always have, even when all I knew was that I couldn’t stand the moments we were apart. Yesterday, when I felt you panic, when I felt something go wrong and the bond between us faltered, all I thought was—take me too.”

 

“Sirius—”

“Shh, love, let me finish.”

He chided as he tugged on a curl; he could feel her heart racing.

 

“And then I fell, couldn’t get my legs to work, couldn’t seem to catch my breath when my heart started to squeeze in my chest, and I was filled with such relief because someone had answered my prayer—but then all I could think was that I never got to tell you—never told you a lot of things. So, let me tell you—I love you, Hermione.”

 

His eyes drooped; his heart was racing, his thoughts bubbly, her magic was so warm, and his body was singing with her by his side. If only he never had to let her go, if only they could never be separated again. If only he could guarantee she’d still want him after he confessed.

 

“I love you, Hermione, but I know you’ve been lying to me, just like I’ve been lying to you.”

 

He didn’t think she could have gotten more tense, but he could feel it from the tips of her toes to her magic, how it all coiled and tried to hide itself. It rankled a part of him—he had worked so hard to show that she could count on him, that regardless of what she did, he would still be waiting to be of use to her. He held on tighter, not enough to hurt her but enough to feel anchored.

 

“I told you, I am yours—unequivocally yours, in whatever role you wish. If that means I need to turn a blind eye, to bite my tongue and smile when all I want to do is break open this silence between us, then I will.” He kissed her head, his gut clenching when her soft sniffling filled the silence. The skin on his chest cooled as her tears leaked through his shirt. He hated her tears—hated the fact he was the one making her cry.

 

“But please, don’t make me.”

 

His fingers twirled, softly painting across her exposed skin, first small flowers, then runes, then constellations as he stared into the vaulted ceiling above them. Each whimper sliced into him, cut so deeply he wondered if he should have just let it go—but then she spoke. Words that branded him, that solidified his chains further into place, for he would be bound for all eternity.

 

“I… Love you too, Sirius. I do. I love you so much.”

 

Tears filled his eyes; he blinked rapidly, trying not to let them fall as he brought a shaky arm up to cover his face. A soft laugh escaped from his lips as he curled around her. Oh, how she blessed him. Those words kept flowing through him, marking each part of him, burrowing into every atom—filling him with such lightness he felt if he tried to conjure a patronus, it would light the sky as if it were a falling star. He buried his face deeper into her curls; he must look mad, crying and smiling, but he couldn’t help it.

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

Blessed and damned.

 

He pulled back as she started to pull away. He would rather not let her go, rather just sit in the radiance of her love, but he couldn’t hold her down forever. She wouldn’t look at him, kept chewing on the bottom of her lip as she fiddled with the sheets between them. He sighed as he leaned back once more, his right hand coming to rest against hers—he entwined their pinkies. The need for more contact with her skin was rising.

 

“I’m so sorry that I’ve … kept things from you—yes, lied too. But…this is something I didn’t know if I could tell you, let alone whether I should.”

 

Stilling as he caught the shift in her tone.

 

“I love you, I really do, but—god, you’ll think I’m mad.”

 

“Sweetheart, your boyfriend is a Black. We have decapitated elf heads as festive decoration—please, give me some credit.” He playfully scoffed as he brought their connected hands up to kiss her pinky before resting them across his chest. She still wasn’t looking at him; he needed to see those golden eyes, to feel the heaviness of her stare. It took a moment before they started to rise.

 

Yes. Look at me.

 

Finally looking up at him, those large golden eyes filled with tears as a blush stole over her cheeks. He knew, the moment her lovely lips opened and closed, that she was struggling to speak, to start—so he offered her a hand. Raising his left hand, the one still covered in her golden red blood, he held it up between them.

 

“What is this love?”

 

Her shoulders fell, eyes focusing on his hand.

 

“It’s Time.”

 

“What?”

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

“Fuck, we missed him!” Remus roared as he sank to the forest floor; he was panting as Severus kicked a tree in anger, his body shivering as sweat poured down his brow. The map was shaking as he moved to lean against the tree behind him. First they had scoured the castle looking for Peter, from the top of the astronomy tower to the bowels of the dungeons; no nook or cranny was overlooked before either of them realized they could use the map. There in the waning hours of Witchlight, they watched his name scamper through hidden passageways and out across the fields. They had followed him into the forbidden forest, hour upon hour, only to catch glimpses of his tracks. Now his name no longer appeared; he was gone, well outside of Hogwarts bounds.

 

“We have to go back, have to let Sirius know—let them all know. Something important happened tonight. I don’t know what, but if Peter is working with Huxley, there is only one place this information will end up.” Severus stated as he brushed his hair back. The moon had already descended, and the sun was just starting to peek above the horizon as they moved, heading back to the castle, tired and frustrated at their failure. Remus was on edge, his teeth grating together as the wolf within him paced. The scent in the forest was wrong; the magic was all wrong.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

There was a certain beauty in the macabre, a haunting allure of power and darkness that spoke to him, that drew his eye to the soft curves of her hips, to the swells of her bare breasts as he admired her grayish skin—admired the souls that hovered just outside of her reach. Perhaps he too was a lost soul bound to her realm, unable to ignore her, unwilling to leave the boundaries of her knowing gaze. Born from deception just as he was, born with anger and pain, the goddess of madness and nightmares filled his hungry gaze.

 

Melinoe—a twisted half-creature who filled the liminal spaces, bringing sorrow to mortals and resolving unfinished tethers to the mortal world. The hand that had painted her bled their rage, their unfinished desires, into every stroke of her. And now as he sat, sipping his morning tea, she blessed him, it seemed.

 

“Now what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Mr. Pettigrew.”

 

“My Lord, I have come to give you this.” Peter stuttered, bowing low as he held up a bloody handkerchief.

 

Fenrir licked his chops like a rabid dog, jumping close as if possessed, eyes black and wide as he ripped the scrap of fabric from Peter’s hands, unable to hold back his beastly desires. He licked his lips again, fangs elongating, eyes rolling back as he let out a grunt of pleasure when he pressed it into his nose, inhaling deeply. Riddle frowned; the beast’s act was bordering on gratuitous and obscene as his shaggy robes started to reveal just how much he enjoyed the scent.

 

“Fenrir.” Riddle hissed. The sharp clank of porcelain snapped the beast from his trance. A rumbling moan slipped past his lips as he forced the cloth away from his face. Fenrir moved, a sleazy smile plastered over his wolfish face as he bowed low in front of Riddle, finally remembering where and who he was in front of. His jaw was chattering, as if he could taste the owner as he fought to hand over the fabric to Riddle. Logic finally prevailed over instinct once Riddle pulled his wand and rested it on the table between them.

 

“I apologize, she smells utterly divine, my lord—”

 

He paused only to look into Riddle’s glowing red eyes.

 

You asked what I wanted—give me her, give me her once you’re done.”

 

“Her?”

 

“Ev—Evans. Hermione… Huxley said it was something you needed to see, needed to know about her.” Peter bit out, his mousy features morphing into disgust as he looked at Fenrir’s salivating face. There were murmurs from the other knights as they watched—the infamously unknown Miss Evans, who had latched onto the purest pureblood prince.

 

Riddle unfolded the fabric, head tilting in confusion as he held the handkerchief to the light. It was mesmerizing, the power leaking off this small bit of blood, but what drew his eye was the soft shimmering specks of gold. Now what is this?

 

“Is he sure it’s hers?”

 

“Um… Kind of?” Peter blurted, his beady eyes jumping from face to face as the conversation around them grew.

 

The next moment he was on the ground convulsing from the crucio Riddle cast. The surrounding knights stood calmly, faces black as they watched Peter soil himself as his screams filled the room. Seconds ticked by, seconds that turned into minutes. The newer recruits started to sweat when blood spewed from Peter’s mouth. Riddle smiled then, ending the curse.

 

“Is he sure it’s hers?”

 

Peter stumbled as the surrounding group laughed, heaving as he tried to get his bearings—snot and blood dripping from his nose as he struggled to get up.

 

“H-he he suspects—it was on her friend, the one that helped her.”

 

“Fenrir, you’ll assist Huxley in determining if it is or is not in fact hers. And once you do, bring her to me first.” Riddle commanded, ignoring the vicious smile that had taken over Fenrir’s face.

 

He lifted his hand, the fabric clutched lightly as another figure stepped forward. An unremarkable face, with brown hair and brown eyes—the unspeakable bowed, gently taking the fabric from his hand.

 

“Look into this.”

 

“Right away, my lord.”

 

Peter wiped the tears from his eyes, wincing as he stood on shaky legs, skin bleeding and cracking in hundreds of places from the curse.

 

“My Lord?”

 

Riddle only raised his eyebrow, allowing him to continue.

 

“Will, will you let me see her now?”

 

Riddle pondered for a moment before snapping his fingers—an elf appeared, ragged and half bones, as it limped forward to grab Peter’s hand. He flinched at how cold the thing was.

 

“You’ve done well, Pettigrew, but your task is not over yet. Until then, your mother will remain. Do you understand?”

 

Peter hobbled forward a bit, gasping as he bowed as low as he could, the elf yelping as he squeezed its hand trying to balance himself. Relief flooded through him as he held back the tears that were gathering in his eyes—he knew he could cry, couldn’t show any sign of weakness here. Rabid—the whole lot of them.

 

“Yes, my lord.”

 

Riddle dismissed him, his eyes once again falling on the curve of Melinoe’s neck, as the conversation from his knights faded into the background.

 

He smiled as he raised his cup high, cheering to the goddess of the underworld.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

“It’s time for what, love?”

 

“No, Sirius, it’s Time.”

 

“It’s…time?”

 

“Yes—sands of it, I think.”

 

Sirius rolled the words around in his mouth, his brain short-circuiting as he tried to fill in the missing information—it was difficult to think, especially now that she laid back down, hands still joined as she angled her head into the crook of his neck. The soft strands of her hair tickled his collarbones.

 

“Please, love, help me out here. What are time sands doing in your blood?”

 

“I had an accident…in the past. ”

 

The laugh was rolling in his chest, threatening to spill out of his mouth, but he held fast, biting his tongue as he waited. Anxiety was creeping in now, his and hers, and he knew if he laughed now, in this moment, it would break something between them. He cursed his twisted nature, his body’s natural reaction to uncomfortable things.

 

“I… I know it sounds barmy, but one moment I was fighting a Death Eater and losing, and the next, I felt this searing, burning tug in my stomach, and the next time I awoke, I was here…38 years in the past—born into an entirely different family.” Her tone was soft, yet the words struck him—his mind fighting to accept them while also trying to block them as she held him tighter, grounding him with her weight. Fighting a Death Eater and losing. It was all he could concentrate on. Rage was building again, his teeth pulsing in his mouth as he imagined it, imagined her under the hands of one of them, crying and fighting for her life. Where was he? Did he even exist in the same time as her?

 

“I think I died—I was wearing a time turner; it cracked open, and when we both got stuck under the rubble, I just remember a flash of red, of fire and pain. Ever since then, my magic has been—different. And my blood, well—” She moved to hold up his left hand, eyes scrutinizing the bloody mess. She easily vanished it before bringing his hand to her lips to kiss. She could feel a soft vibration in his chest; the low rumbling tone soothed her.

 

He remained silent, allowing his thoughts to process—the puzzle grew, the pieces creating a blurry image—the war had continued enough that she had been fighting alone against Death Eaters. Where was he?

 

Chewing on her lip, she closed her eyes as she listened to his heartbeat, allowing her mind to shift through the conflicting emotions reflecting in his magic—rage, terror, confusion, love, desire, and shame. It was such a difference from the calm way he held her, from the gentle way he ran his fingers across her back.

 

“Time turner?”

 

“It does exactly what it sounds like—it turns time backward in my case.”

Sirius was silent; she started to worry when she felt his breathing get a bit faster.

 

“Who was it?”

 

“What?”

 

“Who was the Death Eater, love?”

 

She could hear the edge in his tone; it made her hackles rise. It was the prickly sweetness that Umbridge used to use that rubbed her raw.

 

“Dolohov—Antonin Dolohov.”

 

“Mmm, Dolohov.”

 

The long list of names in his mind shifted; Dolohov slipped into Undesirable#1.

 

Sirius fiddled with her curls as he got more and more comfortable lying next to her. She was waiting for the ball to drop, waiting for some explosion of emotion, yet it never came. He seemed content with the little scraps of information she had given him. She was still so conditioned to Harry’s pensive moods and biting snark, to Ron’s wild accusations, and now to the blistering indignation of Dumbledore when she had withheld something from him. It had been years, but it always hit her, that sickly rawness that made her hands tremble before she shared anything she thought could cause a problem.

 

“Don’t you have anything to say?” she pressed, just wanting to get it over with so she could brace her heart.

 

“What’s with the Grand tosser Dumbles?”

 

She bit back a giggle at that; the name was growing on her—his teasing tone disarmed her, loosening her tongue and the tightness that had been building. Her heart filled with love; he always knew how to help.

 

“He… well, he knows, and I was working with him to help fix some things, but he wanted something I didn’t think would be beneficial to mess with right now. And so, he’s a bit peeved at me currently.”

 

“So that’s why you didn’t get prefect? And Huxley?”

 

“All, retaliation.”

 

He bristled at that. How dare the git.

 

Add Dumbledore to the list.

 

 

Sirius felt relieved; he finally had some answers—finally those little blanks that had driven him half mad filled and eased his suffering. Everything was making more sense: the way she had seemed to know some people, the way she always slipped off to places out of his reach as if she knew every secret Hogwarts had to offer, and the way she had always been pulled away to speak with the headmaster. His heart swelled; she was finally giving him that little piece of her that had always held back. The small bit of disruption he had always felt between them was melting away. More. Give me more.

 

“What happened yesterday, love?”

 

She shifted, more uncomfortable with the question, but she answered anyway.

 

“I think…time is warping—or rippling. I had done arithmancy calculations for every move I have made, ensuring that it wouldn’t disrupt the time flow too harshly before moving onto the next thing. But I checked them last night before everything—they were all fluctuating, as if all the units were off.”

 

She continued, unaware of how tense he was getting in the moment. His little summer fun might have contributed to that.

 

“I must be missing something, but I’ve been combing through information daily. Most of the major players are still in the positions they need to be, and what’s more concerning is—” She coughed, her throat dry. He conjured a glass and then filled it with water before handing it to her. She leaned up, thanking him before taking a drink.

 

“It’s starting to overlap—”

“What is?”

 

“The future, or my past… When Remus mentioned the Marauder’s Map, it was after a huge magical influx. What’s worse… is that Peter also… remembered.”

 

Something about those words tickled his instincts; the beast within him rose, wanting to chase that—to follow that trail.

 

“Why would Peter matter, love?”

 

Hermione bit her lip, rolling around the potential cost of telling him; she turned slightly, taking a sip of water before setting it down on the side table. He was different, much more in control than the older Sirius had been. And so, she took a chance, her hand tightening on his before she told him—told him everything.

 

Sirius’s eyes wandered, soaking in her beauty as her lovely lips spun a tale that seemed so outlandish that it had to be true. His ears drank in the words, letting them fill him with the knowledge of an entirely different Hermione—one he craved to know, to see. Perhaps he needed to dig around the older Black vaults for a Pensieve; he was sure he could convince her to share the memories. He could use legilimency, but then he wouldn’t be able to keep the memories to watch on his own. A memory of a memory was always missing clarity. The desire to be the only one to know filled his chest, the desire to be the only one to claim pieces of her in a way no other could. He was being blessed in so many ways today. His mind cataloging all the new names and the rank in which they would die—some more slowly than others. The Sirius that she had known died. Died miserably after being caged away.

 

There was a faint feeling lingering in the back of his mind, a dream that had felt so real—he was happy for it, happy that she had blessed him with another life—a different life. Because that’s all that mattered now, she was his and he was hers. Anything he needed to do to make sure it stayed that way now held more legitimacy. He rubbed his sternum.

 

With each word that slipped past her lips, she felt the crushing weight of her secret lessen; with each soft acknowledgment from Sirius, she felt more at ease as she bared the secret she had kept for years.

 

“Once we—” She paused, her throat itchy once again. Turning, she moved to grab her drink, her hand gripped round the glass, slowly raising it before she noticed the ripples on the surface of the water. It clicked; her eyes rose to the calendar hanging on the wall. They were getting closer to 1979—getting closer to the day when there would possibly be two of her existing in the same reality. Her origin point was the nexus, the source of the rippling causing magical oscillation and fluxes. There was always a price to messing with time.

 

Did those waves, once they hit, create a magical disruption that allowed the two timelines to overlap? If it did, if those affected by it got to remember small bits of that alternate timeline, would it become worse the closer they got to 1979?

 

Who got to remember? How often would these waves happen? Had they already happened, and she just wasn’t aware?

 

Icy clarity was filling her—she slowly set the cup down, face blank. In her mind the image of an hourglass appeared; the glowing sand had started to fall.

 

Could Riddle remember?

 

What happened if he remembered it all?

 

Sirius could sense her rising distress, sense the growing chaos of her magic as her beautiful brain latched onto something—he knew he needed to distract her, needed to shift her downward spiral onto something else. Pulling her back into his arms, he crashed his lips against hers. She froze for just a moment before responding. He groaned at the taste of her, his tongue slipping past her lips to connect with hers—the small whimpers she made fueled him further, as his hands rose to tangle themselves in her curls. He growled in pleasure when she raked her nails across his shoulders. She was so soft, so warm—her heady scent was filling the small area, disrupting his thoughts—he struggled as he tried to get himself to pull away. They still needed to talk, but Godric—her thighs bracketed his hips. His cock twitched violently in his pants, rushing forward to seek out the heat that was radiating from her. The incessant beeping of the diagnostics was the only thing keeping him sane as he slowly pulled back. She was flushed, eyes glazed as she leaned back in, kissing a path from his lips down to his cheeks and then—then his neck. He pulled one hand away from her luscious locks so he could bite down on his finger. The pleasure and pain nearly did him in.

 

“Hermione.”

 

“Hmm..”

 

“Love, look at me.”

 

Of course his goddess ignored his pleas; he moaned when he felt her teeth softly nip his ear.

 

When she started to press down and started to hitch her hips against his just right, he began to panic. His eyes were wild, desperate as he couldn’t help but follow her rhythm. Desperate times called for desperate measures—white-hot pleasure crashed through him as she tightened her hold on his hair. The words were out before he could think of a better way to deliver them.

 

 

“I’ve been hunting Death Eaters.”

 

She froze above him.

 

He sucked in a breath, his mind now spiraling as he laid his sins bare.

 

“And smoking!”

 

“WHAT?!”

Notes:

I am so sorry about the late update—I greatly overestimated my time management skills.
With my kiddos being out of school and hosting Thanksgiving, plus the added complication of doctors appointments, I feel extremely behind.

That being said--I want to wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving. Hopefully you'll be surrounded by those you love and enjoy! I am going to try to get one more chapter out this week, but no promises.

Thank you all for the follows and comments. I'm not the best at responding to everyone (something I'm working on) but please know that I read every one and appreciate it so much!

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 52: The Writ

Summary:

Some flowers are too poisonous to chance

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

TW: Graphic Violence

---

“In individuals, insanity is rare; but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule.”

― Friedrich Nietzsche

---

 

October 17th, 1975 Hogwarts

 

Aphrodite had surely cursed him.

Struck him in blind jealousy, for the goddess above him was more beautiful than any other.

 

“WHAT?!? Sirius, smoking is so bad for you!”

 

There was something about the murderous twinkle in her eye that filled him with excitement, the way her skin was flushed, curls crackling with her magic as it leapt from her skin to spark across his. The tiny bolts of magic sunk into him and raced through his body—he bit back the smile threatening to break through, though the temptation to stoke her ire filled him. Just how much more lovely would she be if she were angrier? He loved the way her hands gripped the front of his shirt, how her nails dug in slightly to scratch against his chest as she shook him roughly while her lovely lips ranted. Who knew curses could look so attractive slipping from her plump lips? The diagnostic screen above them was sounding the alarm—his pulse skyrocketing as her shapely thighs tightened around his hips. Each sharp movement caused her to press slightly into his rock-hard erection.

 

“OH MY GOD! I KNEW IT! SIRIUS, ARE ALL OF YOU SMOKING?”

 

The top portion of her shirt had come open as she manhandled him, the tops of her breasts peeking out with each movement. His eyes fell to the jiggle of her soft swells as they bounced with each new direction she threw him. He groaned, eyes fluttering closed as he fought off the growing surge of pleasure. She shook him harder when she noticed his closed eyes.

 

“ARE YOU IGNORING ME?!”

 

He was trying, trying his damndest to pay attention to her, to hide just how much he was enjoying her attention, but he was struggling against a lethal combination. This had all backfired on him spectacularly. Yet, he wasn’t entirely upset—if she decided to end him, well, perhaps this was the best way to go.

 

His mind failed him when she pressed down, the heat of her cunt pressing into his straining cock as she resettled. The sharp flash of pain as her fingers pressed into his cheeks as she forced his face up rolled through him, combining into a deliciously ruinous assault on his will. His smile broke free.

 

“ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW??”

“Of course I’m Siriu—”

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

The group waiting just outside the curtain flinched when a bright flash of light erupted. Orion jumped up quickly from his seat, cautioning the rest from coming forward as he slowly passed the ward line and stuck his head behind the veil.

 

He blinked, feet rooted to the floor.

 

His son was smiling, smiling while the tiny witch on top of his lap strangled him. The blaring alarm of the diagnostic screen harmonized quite well with the aggravated scream rolling out of her. Sirius’s nose twitched, his eyes covertly slid to meet his—Orion knew that look; it was the same he had seen on many wizards before. A look of a wizard who was satisfied, who was precisely where he wanted to be. Orion screamed internally, a flush of his own coming up to lightly dust the tips of his ears as he closed his eyes and backed out. Perhaps his son was a bit too much like his cousin Bella at the end of the day.

 

Merlin help them all.

 

“What’s going on in there, Mr. Black? My wand is nearly jumping out of my hand with all the warnings tied in.”

 

Orion cleared his throat, eyes still closed as he rubbed his temples. He cursed internally, his thoughts slowly connecting and concluding that this was some penance from a higher power for being such a little shit to his father growing up—what did the muggles call it? Karma—yes, this had to be some sort of karma.

 

“Uh, they’re fine, just working through something.”

 

“Unless one is actively trying to die again, there should be no reason young Mr. Black’s heart rate is through the roof.” Pomfrey chided as a deep scowl crossed her face.

 

“It’s a rather spirited—uh—conversation.”

 

“And what do stinging hexes have to do with it?” She added, eyebrow raised as she duplicated the diagnostic screen, her cedar wand pointing to the new strobing warnings.

 

“I mentioned it was rather spirited.”

 

Another light flashed before Hermione’s diagnostic materialized, alarm buzzing at the increased heart rate.

 

“Exceptionally spirited”

 

Arcturus coughed.

 

Alphard’s wiggling eyebrows caused Orion to emit a small curse as he slumped back into his chair. He would give them five more minutes before interrupting again—the lack of sleep was starting to wear on him significantly.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

Sirius was having the time of his life, but the longer this went on, the higher the chance that someone else less understanding would intervene before they got to finish their conversation. Running his hands over her hips, he squeezed lightly before lifting one to tangle in the curls at the nape of her neck. He gently tightened his hold—just enough to cut off her current mission to throttle him. It was a reminder and a promise.

 

The sensation of his hands tugging on her hair flooded her with a tingling warmth. She bit her lip as her eyes fluttered; it was entirely unfair how good it felt. She was throbbing, blood charged, as she opened her eyes to study his handsome—no, smug—face.

 

Maybe one more hex wouldn’t hurt.

 

“Love, I’m sorry.”

 

“Really, Sirius? Because smoking is terrible for you! And I’m entirely convinced you got the other boys into it as well. I could smell something, and it was driving me barmy.” She scolded, arms crossing as she wiggled on his lap. His responding groan caused her to smirk.

 

“Uh—yes, I did, except… Except Jamie. Totally on me, love,” he hissed out as he slowly adjusted.

 

“Are you planning on stopping?” Sirius’s eyes snapped to hers; there was a flash of gold behind her eyes, her words holding a tone to them that tickled his brain.

 

“To be entirely honest, love… No, I don’t intend to stop.”

 

“Even if I asked you to?”

 

“Please don’t. I—fuck love, I would if you asked, but I’m begging you not to. This, this is something I need to do—for you. It’s always been for you.”

 

The light of the rising sun filtered through the hospital wing windows, the rays shining down on her auburn locks as she weighed his plea. He felt the caress of her gaze as she studied him intensely. Her posture relaxed, her hands coming to rest on his chest.

 

“You’re being smart about it, right? And safe?”

“Absolutely.” He whispered as she stroked small patterns onto his exposed skin.

 

“If I want to see? Or know exactly what’s going on?” she inquired, her tone soft as she scrutinized his expression.

 

“You need only ask, and it’s yours.” He gave her a soft smile, picking up one of her hands to kiss her knuckles.

 

“No children, ever.”

 

“Never, of course.” He placed another kiss—another vow.

 

“You have to help those who ask for it—not all of them wanted it.”

 

“They’ll be bowing at your feet, grateful for the mercy.”

 

Another kiss.

 

She leaned down, eyes shining as she kissed him, smiling at the soft moan he gave as she nipped his lip.

 

“No more secrets.”

 

He pulled her back down.

 

“No more secrets.”

 

He crashed their lips together as he devoured her.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

Severus ignored the light cursing of his companion as they made their way down the deserted halls—Hogwarts had become a contradiction in his mind. A sanctuary, a home, yet it was riddled with enemies, with rot that had dwelled within her stone walls for centuries, festering and spreading with each new generation. Perhaps it was the curse of humanity, Wizarding and Muggle, to repeat the same cycles over and over again. Just with different faces—different names. His hand came up to touch the disillusioned pin on his chest. He was a part of something bigger now, something that would transcend far beyond his time. Pushing away his aches and his exhaustion, he pushed them both forward.

 

They made their way into the hospital wing; the bond between them blazed and filled Remus and Severus with relief. It had become a steady presence over the months. Something that lived within them under their moonlight missions. Both Hermione and Sirius seemed to be doing much better.

 

“Are they up?” Severus inquired, eyes narrowing on the twitchy, smiling faces of the Black family men. Remus pretended to gag as he sniffed the air, roughly bumping his arm into Severus’s and nodding his head toward the few chairs available.

 

Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Exasperation increased with every soft snicker that Alphard let out as he made his way to an open seat.

“Yes, we’re just waiting until they finish talking.”

 

Remus let out a huff as soon as the word talking left Orion’s lips.

 

Severus ignored it; he was used to the lack of traits that ran bare to nonexistent in the Black family—things like situational awareness and the small thing called shame that most normal witches and wizards had. He had higher hopes for Hermione closing the gap in Sirius’s obvious deficiencies—tragically, it was turning out to be something highly contagious. Perhaps he too was already infected.

 

“Where’s James?”

 

Arcuturus leaned back in his chair; the new greys in his hair made the normally indomitable wizard look fragile in the soft rays of the rising sun.

 

“Potter?”

 

Remus nodded.

 

“Off to tell the sister and Regulus. We took care of the other students, but they should be aware of what happened.” Arcturus stated as he shifted, trying to get comfortable in his chair. He had already informed the Evan’s via owl, reassuring them that he would take care of it and that the children were okay.

 

“And do we know more? Severus pressed.

 

“Not yet.”

 

Madam Pomfrey came over, features tight as she eyed the twigs and leaves caught in both of their hair. She stopped at Remus first; with a flick of her wrist, she was able to determine that apart from some minor aches and exhaustion, he was perfectly fine. She scourgified his face and hair before offering him an invigoration draught. She did the same for Severus before retreating into her back office.

 

“Call me once they are out.” She uttered before the soft shuffling of vials and papers reached their ears.

 

“Alright.” Orion grunted, eyes slowly closing as he basked in the light coming through the windows—the slight chill of the hospital wing dissipating. After a few minutes the wards around the bed fell. The soft shuffling behind the curtain snapped them all back into focus as they adjusted in their seats.

 

The curtain slowly drew back as it folded away. Sirius was standing next to the bed, Hermione was gently pushing his hands back as he tried to adjust her once more. Both of them looked radiant, their magic almost tangible in the air as they softly whispered to each other. A small blush grew on Remus’s cheeks as he ignored the words that seemed like they were supposed to be private. He cursed his heightened senses as he rubbed the back of his neck.

 

Orion stood first, walking over to stand next to his son. He reached out, Hermione quickly placed her hand in his—Orion leaned forward, offering a small bow before he squeezed her hand. He let go, stepping back as he grasped Sirius on the shoulder and pulled him to the side. His normally stoic face filled with concern as he checked him over. One by one the men came to check on them both in their own unique ways. Nox had been silent, his dark eyes staring into Hermione’s face before he walked over. The wizards parted, allowing him to make his way closer. Sirius helped him climb onto the bed, where the elf fell into a tight hug. Hermione whispered her assurances—it seemed to be enough. Nox only nodded before popping away—the noise alerting Pomfrey to the change. Both she and Emet updated their variations of diagnostics—bright green, soft whites filled their screens. After reading the results, they both stepped aside to confirm their findings.

 

“Good to see you both awake—and less dead-looking.” Severus drawled as he moved to hug Hermione, his sharp black eyes questioning. She smiled as she hugged him tight before letting go. He moved, standing in front of Sirius, eyebrow raised. Sirius smiled before opening his arms wide and stepping toward him. Severus quickly retreated as he forced his face to remain blank—he failed when Sirius caught him in a crushing hug. Remus chuckled as he leaned down, kissing both Hermione’s cheeks.

 

“Are you okay? Really?” He questioned.

“Yes—no, no, I promise, really. I think we both are now.”

 

Sirius yelped as Severus sent a stinging hex to his foot in an attempt to break free from his hug. It only made him tighten his hold, forcing the small smile on Severus’s face as he whispered how barmy the wizard was.

 

“What happened?”

 

Before Hermione could answer, Pomfrey’s face turned pensive.

 

“Yes, dear—do tell us what happened,” her tone sharp enough to cause Hermione to flinch.

 

Sirius stiffened at the tone, the cheerful smile falling from his face. Severus was the one now holding him tightly.

 

“Magical surge.”

 

The boys could smell the lie.

 

“Have they told you about the room?”

 

Pomfrey nodded.

 

“There was a surge. I was in the middle of testing the limitations on what the room could provide, and it caused a magical backlash. I rushed out to protect the others, but something must have gone wrong.”

 

“Yes, Mr. Potter was very forthcoming about what you all have been up to during the full moons.”

 

Hermione blushed at that; the desire to apologize or tear up filled her—an old habit from her last life whenever she disappointed a professor or mentor she looked up to. Pomfrey softened when she noticed; she stepped closer and brushed back a stray curl.

 

“Don’t fret, dear; that was incredibly thoughtful of all of you, but the bond between you all cannot be ignored. McGonagall informed us that the headmaster also put newer protections in place that could have interacted negatively on top of what you were already dealing with.”

 

Sirius looked to his father—Orion only confirmed her words.

 

“You’ll need to stay for monitoring for an extra night, but remarkably you both—” She turned to eye Sirius.

 

“Are in much better places than you were when we first checked after you woke.”

 

She turned back, patting Hermione’s cheek before moving to grab a few vials. When she returned, she calmly handed them over; the expression on her face gave no room for argument. The vile taste of some potions caused Hermione to smack her mouth in disgust. Sirius couldn’t help but chuckle at her.

 

“Now, all of you out—Miss Evans needs to rest. You can come back during visiting hours later this evening.” Pomfrey was addressing them all but made a point to stare down Sirius, as if her glare might deter the boy from sneaking back in before the allotted time.

 

Sirius looked to Hermione; she shooed him away, ignoring his pout.

 

“Go—we’ll talk about the rest later—right?”

“Of course, love.”

 

He walked back over and kissed her, lingering for just a moment before heading to the exit; the rest of the group fell in line behind him.

 

They were silent as Sirius led them through the halls filled with curious, prying eyes—past the few early risers that took note of the family. Once outside, he directed them to the courtyard. He looked around before finding a semi-secluded space, grunting as he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and offering them to the others. Severus and Alphard were the only two that took him up on his offer.

 

He lit his, turning around to look and scan the grassy stretches.

 

“Sirius, what happened?” Arcturus was the first brave enough to break the silence.

 

“Mooney.”

 

Remus huffed, pulling his wand and casting a privacy ward around them before pocketing his wand and leaning against the stone ledge they stood next to. As soon as he felt the magic settling into place, he closed his eyes and confessed.

 

“Hermione is a seer. Part of what she told Pomfrey was true—there was a magic surge, but it was related to her sight. The rest, well, was just a result of that clusterfuck.”

 

The lies fell from his lips so smoothly. They had talked about what could be mentioned—about what had to remain a secret at all costs. This was simply the same lie she had already told the little group Dumbledore had organized—staying consistent would just be less of an overall burden.

 

“This is not something that can get out—this gets into the wrong ears, we’ll have a war on our hands.”

 

“Oh, so nothing much different than now.” Orion chuckled. Sirius growled at him.

 

“Peter got away.” Severus sighed before pulling a long drag of his cigarette; even with the potion from Pomfrey, there was no disguising the deep purple marks under his eyes or the slight tremor in his hands.

 

“Fuck—I should have listened to my gut. That prick was no good.” Sirius stated, his jaw clenching as he turned back around to look at them all.

 

“Huxley had his scent on him—they might be working together.” Remus added as he picked at the fraying threads of his coat.

 

The cries of the first wave of morning owls rang through the air; Hogwarts was waking.

 

“Alright, we need to get going—Sirius, you do what you need to. With Huxley and this boy—”

 

“Peter Pettigrew”

 

“Yes, this Pettigrew boy. We’ll work on what we can outside. Perhaps we can get Huxley out via the board or capture this boy if he doesn’t return. But don’t hesitate, son—I’ll take care of the fallout.” The words flowing from his father’s mouth filled him with pride. It reminded him of all those years ago growing up and spending time with him—it had been a time when all he knew was that his father was the strongest wizard he had ever known. When he feared nothing because he knew he had his support. That of course, had faded into dust when he realized he would never go against his mother, never save him from the rules that bound the family. He shuffled; there was an odd emotion growing in his chest, one he’d rather not investigate.

 

He savored the last bit of his cigarette before crumbling it up, his fingers rolling together to snuff out the lit ashes. He vanished the rest and removed the privacy wards wandlessly as he moved forward to give his goodbyes. Mid-hug with his grandfather, he heard a grating voice behind him. He gritted his teeth as he signed for the others to move.

 

“Good morning, gentlemen—I am surprised to see you all here, since visitation for family members is not until later in the year—when non-students are officially authorized to be on Hogwarts property.” His tone didn’t match his eyes; the playful inquiry ended up sounding like a mild threat.

 

“Ah, Albus, good morning to you as well. You see, we had a family emergency that needed to be addressed. All up to code, as you’re aware of the stipulations around such things.” Arcturus easily cut in, carefully blocking Dumbledore’s view of the retreating forms of the boys as they made their way back into the castle.

 

“Of course, of course.” Dumbledore quipped back, his hands clasping together as they came to rest on his stomach.

 

“Yes, we were just leaving. Alphard here is still healing, and it’s best we make it back for him to rest.”

 

“I’ll escort you to the apparition points.”

 

“That would be wonderful—thank you.” Arcturus chimed, moving first as he made his way past Dumbledore and down the path leading to Hogsmeade.

 

Sirius grumbled as they made their way back inside, his mind calculating all the new variables. The most important thing was slowly taking over his mind—she loved him. Merlin, she loved him. He had a rat to catch.

 

“Feathers—get the word out. I want Pettigrew brought to me as soon as he steps back onto Hogwarts property.”

 

“Done.”

 

Severus gave them one final goodbye as he moved to tap his pin—his imposing form disappearing back down into the dungeons.

 

“Remus, come on, let’s find Jamie and fill him in—fuck, this is going to devastate him.”

 

“He’s a traitor.”

 

“He’s a RAT.”

 

October 19th, 1975 Hogwarts

 

Sirius’s heart was beating as he carefully led Hermione up to the seventh floor. Each footstep felt like he was dragging a weight—she said she loved him; she had joked that she found his madness attractive. She had always, always pulled him in rather than push him away—even when the others balked. But there was still a small part of him that was hesitant to taint her with his—inner thoughts. With the darkness that ran in his blood—the wickedness of his bloodline that was plastered on the walls of a hidden room. But she had asked to see, and so he paced, paced, and paced just outside the wall. His body shook as the door materialized. Her face and her magic betrayed none of her thoughts or emotions as he opened the door and escorted her in. She paused, just for a second, as she took in each wall before slowly pulling away to investigate further.

 

He moved to sit on the couch the room had conjured. His leg shaking as he chewed on his cuticles—he was trying to break down the complex arithmancy formulas she had shown him earlier. Even after the fantastic snog they had before heading to the room—her looping scrawl was imprinted in his mind. If he could understand them and break them down, then he could use them with his calculations. Anything to mitigate the time ripples that she had mentioned—that they both had experienced.

 

He tortured himself with the variables and the numbers as the tick of the clock wound him up further and further. He would die if she left him—simply fade into nothingness if she looked at him with fear or disgust.

 

He inhaled, his mind snapping out of his downward spiral when he felt her warm hand cradle his cheek. He stilled, his hands dropping to his lap as he clenched his fists. His heart was racing as he dared to look up—it was as if she had struck him, as if she had torn the very air from his lungs. She was devastating.

 

Her magic was flooding him, filling him with her happiness, her desire, and her love.

 

Her wild curls framed her rosy skin as she climbed onto the couch to straddle his hips, his hands rushing to bracket hers, steadying her as she settled against him. Her eyes were sparkling—mischievous as she gave him a sly smile. Dainty hands moved to undo the tie around his neck, something that felt like it was strangling him at the moment. He let out a sigh of relief when she pulled it off and threw it onto the cushions beside them. In the next second he felt like he was back to suffocating when he felt her slowly unbutton his shirt—her warm fingers sliding across his abs and up his chest as she eyed him like he was her favorite dessert. Everywhere she touched burned, burned so deliciously he bit back his whimpers.

 

Hermione was throbbing; everything in her wanted this glorious specimen held under her thighs. It was sinful, his beauty—her teeth ached as she took in the definition of his abs, his broad shoulders, and thick arms. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to sink her teeth into him and hear his moans fill the air. Pressing down against his straining erection, she slowly rocked against him. His fingers dug into her hips; the pain made her moan as she pressed down farther. He rushed to angle his hips, his cock rubbing so deliciously against her clit as she leaned forward to kiss him. She stopped just short of his lips; his desperate whimper made her smile as he rushed to close the gap. She teased him, nipped his lips as she pulled back—her hands pressing into his chest when he tried to chase after her.

 

With a snap of her fingers, the buttons on her top slowly started to come undone. His glassy eyes widened in awe as she bared herself to him. His cock twitched hard—she moaned as her eyes fluttered closed.

 

“Please, please, please—” He gasped as he continued to rock his hips.

 

“Love, please, can I touch you?”

 

She let her body move to his rhythm; with each pass it filled her with heat, with a tightness in her belly that grew more and more unbearable.

 

“Yes”

 

His thank yous muffled as he leaned forward to kiss her chest, his hands searing their path up her sides as he moved to push the cups of her bra down, the harsh cold of the room on her nipples made her gasp—his groan made her cunt clench. Their pace increased as he wrapped his lips around her nipple. His other hand coming up to gently tweak the other. The sensation of his tongue on her shot through her; his pleasure rushed through her, igniting hers, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her breathing increased as he swirled his tongue, as he pulled her closer, growling as he felt her release grow nearer.

 

He sucked hard before releasing her—eyes wild as he stared into her face.

 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous, baby.”

 

He tightened his hold, his skin flushing as he grunted. She opened her eyes to look into his, her hands moving from his chest to wrap around his shoulders, nails scratching along his heated skin as she leaned down to kiss him. It was hot, teeth and tongue, as they both chased their mounting high. He shifted, it hit her just right, the tight tension in her lower belly exploding as she let out a deep moan. Unable to hold on at the sight of her orgasm, he followed her, hot warmth flooding through. She sucked in air as she rode the last waves of her orgasm, their magic flooding them with contentment as she opened her heavy eyes.

 

He threw his head back, resting on the top of the couch as he tried to catch his breath. The sight of his heaving chest made her rub her sensitive clit across his still semi-hard cock; the slight spark of pleasure made her bite her lip.

 

“Give me a second, love, please.” He was forced out. A small smile took over his face as he peeked one eye open. The twitch underneath her betrayed his words.

 

“You really did this all for me?” The question was soft, hesitant, as she twirled her fingers in the longer strands of his hair now plastered to his neck. Pleasure was still coursing through her, through him, as she waited.

 

“Of course—you’re my everything, Hermione.”

 

“And this?”

 

She ran her fingers across the bite mark she had given him so long ago; his glamour fell the moment he came.

 

“I needed it—needed to keep the reminder of the first time your lips claimed me.”

 

She snaked her hands into his hair, tugging hard as she brought him forward and claimed his lips again—he growled in delight when their lips crashed together. The heat, the desire shooting back through them.

 

She pulled away just long enough to whisper.

 

 

“You’re magnificent.”

 

 

October 25th, 1975 Hogwarts

 

“Please, please don’t hurt us.”

 

Several Slytherin students begged as they hung upside down—their faces slowly turning red as panic flooded their systems. She twitched her nose at the disgusting scent. There was a perverse bit of satisfaction the moment she drew her wand and they flinched. How much more fear would overwhelm them when they knew she was only pretending to use her wand—hiding her true capabilities now that several more of Riddle’s underlings had revealed themselves.

 

It must have rubbed Riddle the wrong way when she sent his first letter back similarly to when she had sent Walburga her howler all those years ago. For each new student who tried to corner her alone, she ensured the messenger or messengers in this case knew exactly what to relay back.

 

She continued to ignore their whimpering as she rounded up their wands—she smirked when she held them. She laughed when they pleaded with her as she pretended to contemplate snapping their wands in front of them.

 

“Please, we’re sorry! We had to!” One yelled out.

“It wasn’t our choice! Please don’t tell Black!” The other foolishly yelled, and the third promptly snapped his mouth shut as her magic swelled. Eyes blazing as she stared into their eyes.

 

“Oh—you really think it would be worse if I told Sirius about you?”

 

She snapped the wand belonging to the one who mentioned him. His loud sobs helped curb some of the rage that was starting to boil under her skin.

 

These misogynistic pricks.

 

“I’m going to show you all the reasons why you should have never thought you were safer with ME.”

 

She purred at their shrill screams of terror.

 

It’s a shame I’ll have to obliviate them after.

 

 

October 31st, 1975 The Forbidden Forest

 

The crescent moon hung high above the stars as he crept through the woods; his heart was racing as he made his way through the familiar brush, his wand straight out in front of him. His eyes had long ago adjusted to the slight rays of moonlight that made their way through the canopy—he was afraid of giving away his position in the forest. Greyback had assured him that after he scent-marked him, there was nothing in the woods that would chance a confrontation, but he was still wary with each new snap and rustle from just outside his view.

 

Peter trembled as the castle got closer on the horizon, its tall towers peeking above the treeline. There was nothing more he wanted than to just quit school, to take his mother and flee, but he was directed—no, commanded—to return.

 

He squeaked in surprise when a branch loudly snapped behind him. He spun, heart racing as he cast a Lumos—he groaned in pain as he snapped his eyes closed and rubbed them. His hand was shaking when he finally opened them, adjusting to the bright light. He sighed in relief when he saw it. A raven was sitting on the stump just behind him, its dark beady eyes shining in the moonlight as it shuffled and chirped.

 

“You bloody bugger—you scared me half to death.”

 

“Oh no, Peter, that’s my job.” The low, haunting timbre of Sirius’s voice whispered right beside his ear. He screamed—until he couldn’t. Until his voice was silenced as Sirius’s punishing grip wrapped around the back of his neck and slammed him down into the ground. Tears ran down his face as his wand was kicked from his hands. He was choking as he hyperventilated, bits and pieces of twigs and leaves filling his mouth as he struggled and thrashed on the forest floor.

 

Sirius’s laugh rang out, the sound piercing through his psyche as he continued to tighten his hold.

 

“Petey, Petey, Petey—you’ve got some explaining to do.”

 

Peter slammed his eyes closed when he was pulled up and slammed back down onto the ground—this time on his back. He clawed at Sirius, his laughter never stopping. Magic filled the clearing, and his hands were forced to the ground as Sirius placed a knee into his chest. His watery eyes snapped open.

 

Above him were eyes that glowed gold and flashes of a sharp-fanged smile.

 

Terror engulfed his mind.

 

“Now, I’m going to undo the silencing charm—” his large hands rushed forward, clenching Peter’s jaw, forcing his face still, forcing his eyes to stay on him.

 

“And then, you’re going to tell me where you’ve gone and run off to. Do you understand, Petey?”

 

Peter’s entire body shook as he hesitantly nodded his head. Sirius waved his hand and removed the charm.

 

“HEL—”

 

Peter cried out in pain as Sirius’s fist connected with his jaw—over and over again, he didn’t stop, each blow more devastating than the last. He could taste blood filling his mouth and could feel one of his molars loosening. One thought flooded his mind—he was going to die. Sirius was going to kill him.

 

“I knew you were an average student, but I didn’t think you were that dumb, Petey.”

 

He forced Peter’s bruised face forward again.

 

Tears blocked his vision as snot and blood choked him.

 

“If you try that shit again, I’ll rip what I want out of your mind. There’ll be nothing left of you—just a shell, just a body drooling in a ministry-assigned bed in the Janice Thickey ward—so tell me, Petey, where have you been?”

 

“The… the Dark Lord! I had to. He has my mother—I swear it, please. I’m sorry, but I had to.”

 

The sharp cry of surprise rang out to his left. Peter turned his head, wincing as he took in the sight of James’s pale face. He could see it, the empathy, the tense way James was holding himself.

 

“Please, James! I would have never done it! You have to believe me! Haven’t I been a good friend?”

 

He cried out again when Sirius effortlessly dragged him up, knee still digging into his chest, and slammed him back on the ground. There was a sharp crack, his vision blurring as pain shot through his mind.

 

“Tsk tsk, can’t trick our noses, Petey…That lie was so bitter I nearly gagged.”

 

Peter’s face transformed; a ghoulish sneer took over his beaten face as his hatred oozed out once he realized he was trapped.

 

“Alright, fine—I told the dark lord all about your dirty little mudblood cunt. I wonder if Greyback was right… if she smells just as delicious as her blood.”

 

Peter braced himself, waiting for the next blow. His face morphed into confusion as he watched a dazzling smile take over Sirius’s face. The light of the moon reflected off his irises as they began to glow again, the darkness of the night intensifying as a rolling, violent magic flooded through his body. He choked, wheezing as Sirius rolled his neck. Letting out a satisfied groan when it popped.

 

He looked to his left; James now stood back, his face blank, yet his eyes flashed in the darkness. He turned right—Severus and Remus stood. Faces blank, yet their eyes flashed in the dark just as ominously.

 

Sirius gently patted his cheek before leaning forward, his soft hair brushing against his skin as he whispered in his ear, the pain of his knee intensifying as he forced his entire weight down upon him.

 

“You were right, Peter.”

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

“Hello, love, I missed you.” Hermione murmured as she welcomed Sirius back to the table she was sitting at. The Halloween celebrations were well underway as the students around them laughed and gossiped. The soft music filled the clearing as a few danced around the small fires lit around them. Even the ghosts of the castle had decided to join their Samhain ritual this year. The castle elves were draped in decorative cloths of red, orange, and purple; the bright flashes of color popped around the clearing as they weaved through the students. Refilling goblets and plates as the light of the moon bathed them all in soft white light.

 

Sirius only smiled, kissing her on her forehead, making sure not to disrupt the veil she wore before walking past their table. In his arms he carried a single log. He stepped up to her altar—the one she had lit to bless the others—and threw the log into the flames. His delightful laugh filled the clearing as he made his way back to her side. The others slid into their seats as they piled food and treats onto their plates. She studied his muscular frame in the firelight, drinking in the exhilaration dancing in his magic. He came back, falling to his knees before her.

 

Nox appeared, the ceremonial bowl filled with ashes held out in offering. She chuckled, wiping her hands before gently cradling his face. She tilted it, her eyes catching the droplets of blood still on his cheek. She vanished them, then dipped her finger into the ash.

 

“Mmm, did you have a successful hunt?”

 

“I was blessed.”

 

She smiled as she drew Hagalaz upon his skin.

 

Her magic swelling, filling the rune as it flashed gold in the firelight.

 

Leaning down, she blessed him once more.

 

Her very own god of destruction and salvation.

Notes:

Surprise! I was able to find the time to fit in another chapter. How are we all feeling about this one?👀

Chapter 53: Rosalie

Summary:

Every farmer knows what must be done to survive the winter

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; this is my first fanfic

I apologize for the longer than usual delay! I was traveling out of town with family and couldn't find a moment to write. I don't write ahead, as each chapter takes me at least 1-2 days to write before I review and make changes. Scheduling was a mess. Thank you for your patience!

TW: Depictions of violence, death

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“I would never be so foolish as to underestimate the power of evil. But neither would I underestimate the power of good as held against evil’s overestimation of itself.”― Craig D. Lounsbrough

---

November 25th, 1975 Hogwarts

 

HAVE YOU SEEN HIM?

 

Peter Pettigrew

Age: 15

 

There is a reward for any information on his whereabouts. The young wizard was last seen attending Hogwarts but has since vanished from the school. After an extensive Auror investigation and full cooperation from the school, they have ruled out any foul play and believe this to be a runaway situation. Please direct your owls with any information to the Missing and Delinquent Youth Division.

 

Have you seen him?

 

Yes, in every dream, in every shadow and dark part of the castle since that fateful day. James winced as the food in his mouth turned to ash; he choked as he forced the disgusting food down. His hazel eyes couldn’t help but focus in on the back section of the Daily Prophet. Every day he would sit at the table, open the prophet, and read before he could start his breakfast—it was a ritual, something that he had adopted from his father—a means to feed the desire he had about what was going on in their world. Yet he had never paid attention—never realized just how long the list of missing people grew day by day—but today, today he knew a name, knew a face, and knew the person behind it. His hand pressed hard against his chest, trying to massage away the pinching tightness growing just behind his ribs. He had thought he knew the person, but he had learned just how easily he had ignored the red flags in an attempt to recreate the closeness he had once felt with his friends.

 

He had nightmares about it—about opening a door, about going to welcome his friend Peter, and instead watching his face twist into a ghoulish beast. Being unable to recognize the person in front of him before falling to a bright blast of sickly green. Someone was always screaming in this dream; he hadn’t figured out whether it was him or someone else.

 

But reality was different; it wasn’t him who fell, it wasn’t his eyes looking up void of any spark—listless and dull. James forced himself to eat as Sirius and the rest joked around him. They seemed less affected—the thought horrified and steadied him. Part of his mind had blocked it out, the fact that he had stood by and watched Sirius kill someone—another student right in front of his eyes, with a smile that had made his heart race. That he had helped conceal it—an accomplice they’d call him if the Aurors ever found out. He had thought about going straight to Dumbledore that night and confessing, but something held him back. There was a small part of him that whispered that Peter deserved it. That he was a RAT, vermin that needed to be exterminated.

 

His paranoia was skyrocketing—who else? Who could actually be trusted?

 

He froze when he saw it: Sirius’s sly smirk, his goblet raised as he watched Professor Huxley read the prophet. Another ghoulish beast appeared. It was the same look Peter had that night—a brief flash of unbridled hatred and disgust that filled Huxley’s face before it vanished. It struck him, filled him with a slow simmering rage as Huxley dared to let his eyes land on Hermione, and then… Lily. Hazel met Blue—something sparked in his chest, his hand moving on its own as he too raised his goblet and toasted. A smile took over his face—he couldn’t see it, but he imagined it looked just like Sirius’s did that night.

 

He had been blind; the war was no longer just outside Hogwarts walls but here, sitting across from him, eating and speaking—daring to breathe the same air, and he would be damned before he found himself reading any truly familiar names.

 

Sirius turned as if he could read his thoughts, eyes wild just like that night.

 

His smile was just as dazzling.

 

 

December 21st, 1975 Black Manor

 

Charmed snow fell from the arched ceilings as radiant white fairy lights floated and mixed with the fading flurries; soft music played as masked dancers swayed about the ballroom in brilliant quadrille—each step, each sway painted a harmonious picture. Inhabitants nestled in a wintery paradise, charmed and inebriated as they toasted to continued wealth—to continued happiness. Yet surrounded by otherworldly splendor and indescribable magic, Lily couldn’t help but feel grey. Feel the harsh numbness of winter, the icy coldness of it seeping through the cracks—see the ugliness thinly veiled beneath the charming facades. Beautifully painted faces with elegant lips spewing disgusting words that filled the night with a darkness so thick it strangled her. She burned, wrapped in finery, as envy filled her—as disgust filled her, for she was just another beautifully painted face in a swarm of deception. That same ugliness rested inside of her, though her lips had not spilled it into reality; the force with which she bit her tongue was just as torturous.

 

“What a handsome couple! It seems the Evan’s despite their blood, do come from good stock. Apparently, the young Black is positively smitten. I guess those who claimed it was a youthful phase are lamenting now.”

“And the sister, well, she’s promising as well, not as bright as the youngest but certainly beautiful.”

“Certainly grown since the last ball, but nothing impactful, I fear.”

 

Lily grit her teeth as she moved; she told herself it was because they had just set aside more fairy wine, a delicious concoction that helped drown out the noise around her, but a tiny part of her recognized she was fleeing. Running from the words that pierced her more deeply than if she had been cursed. They had all smiled and welcomed her—praised her highly just earlier in the night, built her up so highly that the crash now was all too devastating. Snakes, all of them silver-tongued and just as venomous, she had been too willing to ignore their fangs and scales.

 

“The sister has been seen with the prince heir, but nothing has come about…”

“Well, if mere appearance is all it takes, then the scandal wouldn’t fall on the sister…”

 

She kept moving, kept running as the surrounding conversations closed in. Her ears were ringing, her magic humming just beneath her tight skin. The lights were too bright, the magic to heady—ice filled her veins.

 

“Have you seen her? The Sister? Yes, all that red…”

 

The Sister

The Sister

 

Had they cast a new unforgivable? Why did her eyes water, her throat clench, and her heart stutter with the mere thought of it attached to her in every conversation? Would it follow her for the rest of her life? Would she lose her name?

 

Bathed in half-light, the shining, glimmering, soft light of the ball at her front and the cold darkness of the hall running across her back—her dreams spilled forward. A desperation, a plea that haunted her—a flash of green. She could see it, all these masked faces turning silver, turning black. Instead of raised toasts, it was smoking wands; it was red eyes following her in their dancing shadows.

 

“LILY!”

 

A name—her name. Finally, someone said it. Someone could see her. Someone knew her name. The darkness clinging to her fractured and fell away as if a counter-curse had been cast.

 

“LILY flower! There you are—here I’ve managed to steal those tarts you like so much.” James whispered conspiratorially, his hazel eyes shifting as he stealthily checked to see if anyone was paying attention. When he found no prying eyes or turned ears, he very carefully unveiled the most pristine tarts she had ever seen from a very familiar handkerchief—it was one of the first she had made, one he had stolen months ago. She looked at his forehead; there was just a faint glimmer of the cut she had accidentally caused.

 

“You wouldn’t believe it, but I did have to fight off a burly Russian wizard for them. I swear I heard him growl at me.”

 

She had hexed him nearly a dozen times in the scuffle to get it back. She had been so embarrassed at the sloppy little lily she had attempted that when he had taken it from her, she had desperately fought to get it back. Yet her eyes caught the way his fingers would rub against that frayed flower as he spoke. It was so ridiculous—the tarts, the ball, the countless nightmares and interrupted nights, and most of all, James’s smiling face. A single tear slipped out as she reached out to take a tart. He paled.

“Lily?”

 

She ignored his concerned fretting as she bit into it. Flavor burst in her mouth, driving her to take another bite. Her eyes closed, savoring the taste, savoring the small bit of magic he had brought her.

 

It filled her with warmth—with a steadying peace she hadn’t known she had been desperately craving.

 

She sniffled as she wiped away the new tears that had fallen. Eyes never leaving the way he cherished even the ugliest of lilies.

 

“You’re barmy, James.”

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

“Ello’ Lass, it is good to see you.” Moody grunted as he moved to kiss her offered hand. His crisp robes shifted in the light as the magic designs flickered and danced across the fabric. The surrounding lights intensified as a deep, creeping desire to giggle rolled through her. Who knew a stern wizard like Moody would indulge in charmed mooncalves?

 

Hermione studied the wizard; he was still just as jarring as the first time she had seen this version of him. What was even more startling was the realization of how handsome he was when things like large magical whirling eyes, dismembered limbs, and cutting words couldn’t draw away from it. Or perhaps it was the highly flattering lighting or the numerous cups of fairy wine she had consumed this night; the thought, however, faded into the soft ambient music surrounding them as she looked to her companion.

 

Sirius shifted beside her, tightening his hold as he leaned forward to greet another order member—Amelia Bones. Of course they were speaking; there were words and gestures being communicated, yet her muddled mind couldn’t help but be drawn to the way the muscles in his neck bulged as he spoke. How anyone functioned when he looked like this was slowly becoming a question her mind struggled to move from—he was the type of beautiful that historians discovered immortalized into ancient arts, into the fabric of realities spanning across millennium, in the way that stole the minds and breath of those who realized it was possible to be divinely beautiful. She shifted in his hold, legs rubbing together as his low voice seemed to lick across her skin, her grip on his thick forearm tightened as a blush started to creep across her cheeks—across the tops of her breasts as she tried to hide the heat that was building.

 

“Expect an owl—now if you’ll excuse us, we’re late for another meeting.” Sirius quipped as he patted her hand, his large thumb pressing against her skin just right—she bit her lip, dazed as she nodded to them both before allowing herself to be whisked away. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of aristocratic faces—of carefully cultivated beauties surrounding them—yet her eyes were unmoved from his godly form. He had combed his hair back, the wild black locks defying his control in a devilishly disheveled coif that made her knees weak. Her neck was starting to hurt from having to look up—he had gotten so much taller in the last few months. Her breath hitched as the light reflected off his broad shoulders; she dragged her eyes away as she tried to calm herself. Curses. Even his wrists were attractive.

 

His heady scent filled her nose as he leaned in; she could feel the soft brush of his hair against her cheek as his voice filled her.

 

“Is there something I can help you with, love?”

 

She blinked, eyes heady as she realized they were alone, that he had lured her away to a more secluded part of the manor while she was thoroughly distracted.

 

What a smart boy.

 

Words failed her as he towered over her, his deft hands sliding along her waist and hips before making their way under her dress. His hands were hot as they caressed her thighs before grabbing the back of them and effortlessly lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, groaning at the connection.

 

“You smell so fucking divine—you’re driving me mad, love.” He whispered in her ear before running his nose across her neck. She tilted her head, giving him more access as he peppered kisses across her heated skin; each caress sent a jolt of pleasure through her.

 

“Mmm, it’s your fault, you know.”

 

She could feel his smile ghosting across her skin.

 

“Ah, my apologies, I’ll have to fix that, won’t I?”

 

She moaned as he nipped her. The pain blended deliciously into pleasure as he pressed against her tighter.

 

“Yes—”

 

She gasped as he started to rock against her.

 

“Yes, you will.”

 

January 1st, 1975 Evan’s Cottage

 

 

There was something sticking in his chest as he watched the giggling smiles of everyone around them, as he watched Hermione dance with her sisters underneath a shower of colorful confetti Nox had charmed. The heat of the fire he stood next to couldn’t compare to the burning magic growing around him. This—this is what it should have always been, what a family actually looked like. James’s face was flushed as he belted out another chorus to Queen, the cord of the microphone snagging on Severus’s heel as he made a desperate escape to his family snacking in the corner—Remus’s wide smile was infectious as he leaned into his mother’s side, his face softening as he turned and whispered into her ear. Hope hid her giggles behind a gloved hand, but the mirth shining in her eyes sparkled and radiated out as Lyall stood mesmerized at her smiling face.

 

His father’s eyes were wide as he watched the television Hermione had charmed to work in their magical home, his shoulders brushing Louis’s as he asked question after question about the celebration he was watching and how everything worked. Louis’s face was flushed as he did his best to explain while he swayed on his feet, his deep laugh filling the room as he clinked his cup of whiskey against his father’s. His grandfather tutted as he cursed the Scots, taking a large gulp of his firewhiskey in between each new curse—the Hogmanay celebration stealing his voice once the brilliant fireworks appeared on screen.

 

Regulus preened under the undivided attention of the ladies, and Alphard—his mother, Rose, his cousin Andy, Euphemia, and their grandmother—all nodded along enthusiastically as Regulus regaled them with his Hogwarts adventures. They oohed and awed, wobbly heads nodding in excitement, their words slurred with the help of generous goblets full of elven-made wine Alphard had brought. James’s father was in a heated debate with Ted over the logistics of ethical potion creation, something Dora seemed to find exceptionally hilarious as she yanked on Fleamont’s hair. Even the elves had found a way to celebrate, each making it a competition on who could refill everyone’s goblets the fastest. So far from his calculations, Alton and Nox were at a neck-and-neck tie.

 

She was once again blessing him, filling his life with things he didn’t even know he wanted—didn’t know that he had craved. He watched her move, her hips swaying to the beat of the music playing as the clocks chimed. He swallowed when she turned, her golden eyes drawing him in as she smiled, her hands coming up to wave him over. His feet were moving before a thought could cross his mind. His heart was pounding as he felt her hands slide up his chest to rest behind his neck. His hands were sweaty as he moved to rest them on her tantalizing waist—gods, she was even more stunning each time he looked.

 

He studied the way the light reflected off her features, how her auburn curls filled with bright flashes of color as the countdown began.

 

“5”

 

He twirled her around, his smile growing as she threw her head back and laughed.

 

“4”

 

Pulling her close, he swayed around the room, the steps to the waltz ingrained into his muscles.

 

“3”

 

His heart beat violently in his chest as her dazzling smile bloomed.

 

“2”

 

“I love you.”

 

The words ripped from him as the warmth within his chest blazed wild, filling him.

 

“1”

 

“I love you too, Sirius.”

 

He crashed his lips against hers, pulling her tight as he buried himself in her embrace.

 

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!”

 

It was one of the happiest he had ever experienced.

 

January 15th, 1976 Hogwarts

 

 

Remus was on edge as they walked from the quidditch field, his nose twitching each time the putrid stench reached his nose—werewolves. They were close, or had been entirely too close to the castle recently. The beast inside of him was snarling in rage as it sent him slightly horrific suggestions to mark their pack’s territories. He didn’t know which was more mortifying, the violent urge to piss it sent each time he passed a good-looking tree or the continued suggestion he should use his or his alpha’s musk to mark their pack mates. He nearly choked the first time it casually mentioned that there was one pack mate with enough sense when he caught a whiff of a very particular scent clinging to Hermione. Sirius had dogged him relentlessly, demanding an explanation when he couldn’t muster up the ability to look either of them in the eye without violently blushing—when he cheated and used his trump card, he had nearly gone up in the flames of embarrassment when the words tumbled out.

 

Sirius—fucking Sirius—in all of his half-mad glory laughed until he nearly passed out and then taunted him for days. The injustice of it all was worsened by the increasing chattiness of the beast inside of him, praising Sirius’s diligence in maintaining his mate’s protection. Sirius would loudly proclaim he had to do his duty to the pack each time his devious brain found a moment in which he could convince Hermione to spend time with him alone. Of course he always chose to announce this with maximum witnesses, forcing him to deflect the ever-growing curiosity of their friends. Thankfully it ended swiftly when he mentioned he would tell Hermione—watching Sirius act like a beaten dog for a few days certainly helped soothe his need for retaliation.

 

“Look alive.” Remus chimed when they passed a cluster of trees that held a stronger scent. The only saving grace was that these were all strangers—a part of them held Greyback’s scent, an indication of their affiliation to him, but Greyback himself had not dared to make his way so close to the castle.

 

Sirius tensed, his grey eyes narrowing as he sniffed the air.

 

“Stronger?”

“Yeah.”

 

“What is?” James asked as he ran his hand through his sweaty hair, his other arm gently cradling the new broom he had been testing out earlier.

 

“Werewolves—Mooney’s been able to scent them skulking around Hogwarts.”

 

“No, they wouldn’t dare.” Severus hissed, his black eyes searching the horizon.

 

“Well, they fucking dare. Shit, this is close to where the girls walk after Runes.” Sirius sneered before snapping his mouth shut, his jaw clenching as he finally picked up on the scent.

 

“Then we walk them to every class if we can—have someone with them at all times.” James growled out as he stopped, his eyes narrowing as they joined Severus’s to search the cluster of trees on the horizon.

 

“Oh, that will go over well; you know how independent they are.” Severus sighed, turning back around to run a hand over his forehead.

 

“Then tell them the truth; this is too important to worry about hurt feelings.” James countered back, shrinking his broom before placing it in his pocket and then crossing his arms as he became more agitated.

 

“We’ll have to get the word out; if these are really members of Greyback’s pack, then the little ones aren’t safe either.” Sirius murmured as he tapped the brooch in his pocket. Remus flinched when he felt Sirius’s large hand squeeze his shoulder—a wave of reassurance flowed through the bond between them, calming the nerviness that rose at the mention of Greyback’s name.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

“I’m so happy it’s you—I mean, I would be happy with anyone who escorted me.” Mary stuttered out as she pulled her book closer to her chest, the soft pinkish hue of her blush illuminated her features, accenting her silky soft skin. He ignored the soft scent of her white lie, her nervousness, and excitement filling him with an intense desire to get closer, to whisper in her ear just how much he enjoyed being able to protect her.

 

Remus ignored his urges as he held out his hand, gently offering to take her bag as they started their walk toward the astronomy tower. He stood a bit taller when the warmth of her hand bled through the sleeves of his sweater; he bit back the growl of contentment when her sweet scent hit his nose fully. His ears sung as her soft chattering filled the halls—she had such a lovely voice. With each step they took, his mind crafted a beautiful dream, a future filled with happiness, with children that looked at him with adoration. A family.

 

His heart clenched in his chest as Mary explained the different lunar theories—it was cruel, near torturous, to know all it would ever be was a dream.

 

“Are you okay, Remus?” Mary asked hesitantly.

 

“Better than ever.”

 

Mary was kind enough to ignore his lie, even though the bitter taste it left behind a lingering melancholy so thick, it drove them both to silence.

 

January 30th, 1976 Hogwarts

 

“Diffindo!”

 

Sirius snarled as Hermione deflected the charm, his wand already out as he stunned the Slytherin that had attempted to catch them off guard—his sneer turning into a satisfied smirk at the loud, sickening crunch of his nose breaking in the fall. Turning, his eyes quickly scanned her body, his mind rolling through thousands of scenarios, all the what-ifs and potential catastrophes that could have happened if his witch wasn’t so skilled. His eyes showed that she was fine, her scent told his mind she was perfectly fine, but it ignored all of the evidence as he stalked over to the unconscious form of the idiot brave enough to risk his life.

 

“Sirius… Be nice.”

 

A deep rumbling growl filled the air; Hermione simply raised her eyebrow, arms crossing as she shifted into a defiant tilt. He wilted a bit under her narrowed glare.

 

“He is weak—an inconsequential pawn meant to fail and be punished for it. Don’t worry, he’ll get what he deserves in the end.” She tried to reason with him as he paced, his hands coming up to pull at his hair. There was a tightness to his form, a harshness that was slowly solidifying into place with each passing day. There was a part of her that recognized it. She had seen it in Harry, in Ron, and even herself as the war progressed.

 

“This is the third one this week, Hermione! What’s next? They break into the dorms and corner you while you sleep? I’m halfway across the castle then! I can’t… ”

 

“As if they could corner me,” she scoffed as she moved into his path, her arms coming to circle his waist as she pressed her face into his heaving chest. He melted in her arms; she smiled as her hands played with the band of his pants.

 

“Love, humor me for a moment.” he grumbled as he leaned into her, his strong arms squeezing her tightly, before he slowly pulled back.

 

“I AM humoring you—I haven’t hexed you for being a very handsome but very overbearing boyfriend, and I’m even letting you spiral in the very dramatic way you like,” she playfully chimed as she tilted her head to watch his expression.

 

This time it was his turn to scoff, his posture deflating as he crossed his arms and looked at her, a large pout growing on his face.

 

“It’s not dramatic love—it’s appropriate. Have you ever considered that your reactions to being stalked by a dark lord’s minions aren’t dramatic enough?” His words poked at her as he slowly inched back to the unconscious student. She bit her lip. Of course she was aware, probably more aware than he ever realized. The 70s were filled with their own challenges, but it was, in her mind, much easier than her past life. Because she knew just how bad this all could go, she was aware this time instead of feeling like she was always caught unaware, always scrambling to catch up instead. Knowing—it was something she craved, needed to function. It’s why it had been so hard the first time to accept that some magic didn’t have rules, didn’t follow any sort of logical understanding. The growing agitation left her—this was his first time. Everything was new and horrible, and so she needed to remember that.

 

“Sirius, I understand the most.”

 

He bit back his retort when he realized, sighing, he ran his hands through his hair before he turned to look at their attacker.

 

Hermione tsked when he stepped on the student’s hand, grinding his foot in until he heard a crunch before rolling him over onto his back. Cleaning the blood on his face and floor.

 

“Really? Was that necessary?”

 

“Absolutely, Princess. I was nice enough to spare his neck and instead just broke the hand that dared to raise a wand toward you.”

 

He snuck in a swift kick as he spoke to her; his grunt of satisfaction when he heard another small crunch helped ease some of his anxiety before he hauled the student up against the wall.

 

“All very responsible, NOT dramatic in any way, mind you.”

 

Hermione just rolled her eyes as she walked around him, pinching his firm butt in retaliation. He flinched, rubbing the spot with a smile on his face as she knelt down to wipe the student’s memory and craft a deep compulsion to avoid dark wizards. Once she was done, she ignored his grumbling as she healed the Slytherin’s hand and rib.

 

Sirius moved close, offering his hand as he helped her up from her kneeling position. He gently fixed some of her hair before leading her away from the hall. She didn’t make a peep when he hovered a bit closer in the hallways, nor when he remained glued to her side the rest of the day.

 

When he set a bouquet filled with white and pink yarrows in her hands, she made sure to pull him close, combining their magic together as she whispered in his ears just how much she loved him.

 

 

February 13th, 1976 Hogsmeade

 

There was something satisfying about the soft crunching of tightly packed snow beneath the feet of hundreds of students as they made their way around Hogsmeade that filled Hermione with a rush of exhilaration; the light coldness of the wind seeping past her warming charm made her want to dance—made her magic sing so beautifully. The allure of the town filled her with a serenity she craved as she rubbed her fingers along Sirius’s hand. This is what she wanted: small moments, small bits of happiness that she could immortalize in her memory, filling it until it was overrun with loveliness and warm laughter. The boys were chattering on about the new model broom that was set to release in the coming months—Sirius didn’t know it yet, but she had already preordered one for him, a late Christmas present that had been in the works as soon as she realized she had noted its creation in her journal. It must have been something of Harry’s that had stuck; she could clearly remember now how he had gone on and on about the model that had changed the industry. It had been a fun little challenge disguising the letters she had been exchanging with Orion; they had even planned a surprise reveal this summer.

 

There was a vibration in the air as the wind picked up. She tilted her head back, eyes closing as she faced the sun—soaking in the rays of golden light. Her magic flooded out of her, expanding and catching on the wind as it whispered in her ear. Light snow had just begun to fall, the white flurries catching in the light, some gold, some red, and some grey as they swirled above her. Sirius slowed his pace beside her, his body tensing as she let out a soft sigh. It was exceptionally beautiful as it was haunting, the way the sounds around them dimmed. Leaning into his broad shoulder, she squeezed his arm as she watched the girls chat aggressively over the latest horoscope—she was an Aquarius in this life, and apparently today would be one of upheaval and spotlight. Smiling at how heated the discussion was becoming, she allowed just a few more precious moments of distraction.

 

Just a few more seconds of anything she could cherish before having to acknowledge the fact that they were being followed, or how Sirius had finally caught on, his magic throbbing violently under her fingertips as he braced himself for a fight, or the fact that she could see just how tense Remus was becoming as they made their way around the corner. She just wanted to ignore the bitter scent of dark magic as she watched the youngest firsties crowd around Honeydukes with their treats—to let them have a moment longer to enjoy the wonder of the magical confectionery just as she had. She just wanted to ignore the black wisps of smoky forms barreling right behind them—those apparitions of dark magic morphed into Death Eaters as they surrounded them. Life had a way of ripping these precious moments apart, shredding them and tainting her happiness with sticky darkness that corrupted even the best of memories.

 

It was confusing, the mix of emotions flooding her—joy that her war reflexes snapped into place as if she hadn’t lived several peaceful years and overwhelming sadness as she watched the people she loved experience the first glimpses of real battle.

 

Time slowed as she let go of Sirius’s hand, her wand sliding into her grip as she turned and pulled away from him, occluding to block out her turbulent emotions and his angry screams as she crouched low and slung a forceful bombarda into the chest of the Death Eater closest to his back. Screams erupted as others finally realized what was going on, as they witnessed the Death Eater’s chest rupture open as her curse struck true, throwing his body into the building behind them. She occluded harder as she whipped her wand, sending out a mass stupify to the few Death Eaters still caught off guard by the violent welcome she provided. She silently erected a protego around herself and the others; a shower of red and gold bounced off the shields as the hexes and curses reflected into the nearby buildings. She hoped those Firsties had run.

 

She could feel him beside her, his magic furious as he sent curse after curse into the Death Eaters around them. There was a rhythm to their movements, an instinctual dance as their bodies moved in sync as they fended off their attackers. Even in the midst of battle, she could see the beauty in it, the delicate flow that guided them both, that guided their magic as it combined. Every few seconds she would check on everyone out of her periphery. James was standing guard over Lily and the other girls as they directed the younger students to their side—James was sweating as he sent shield after shield up, each one weaker than the last—Lily would duck under his arm to cast stupefy, flinching with each new explosion. The harsh scent of fire filled her lungs as screams further in Hogsmeade grew louder. It was a symphony of destruction and fear, something Riddle had always relished. Severus’s deep curse filled her ears as he stilled, his wand arm falling, leaving him unprotected as he gazed up at the giant black skull in the sky, a snake descending from its open mouth.

 

“Fuck, pay attention, mate!” Remus growled out as he drove forward to tackle a Death Eater that had raised his wand toward Severus’s back. Severus snapped out of it, his face pale as he clenched the brooch on his robes, his dark wand coming up as Remus jumped back, his face bloodied from the struggling wizard beneath him. Severus’s eyes turned cold as he stupefied and bound the wizard. He rushed over to help Remus up as they turned, facing back to back as more Death Eaters made their way to them. It was an endless stream of black and silver as each exit was cut off.

 

Ducking under a rather nasty bone-breaking curse, she snarled as she cast a simple drying hex at the Death Eater who was confidently strutting toward them—there was a moment of confusion that she could feel through his magic before his bloodcurdling scream rent the air—all the water in his body drying up as he collapsed onto the ground. The blaze of the fire was growing, illuminating the cobblestones in a fiery red hue, the snow melting as the heat grew around them. Blood was splattered across her face, across her robes, as she tore through these stumbling Death Eaters. Her mind racing as she noticed how jerky and slow they were to react, these must be lower-level grunts.

 

There was a brief moment, just one, where she allowed herself to turn, to look at Sirius in all his violent beauty and rage, to carve his form into her mind—the way his face lit with joy as he sliced off the wand arm of the wizard he was fighting, the way his low laugh filled the air, feeding into the wild frenzy of battle as he stalked his next opponent. He orbited her, never straying too far as they fought. Never leaving her, even when the others stumbled under the heavy wand fire.

 

Hermione’s heart stuttered in her chest as she heard a distinctive cackling laugh fill the air; Bellatrix oozed dark magic, her presence commanding as she appeared from the dark corridor beside them. Her body danced as she twirled her wand—her heeled feet moving elegantly to the steps of a waltz as she twisted and turned, playfully casting crucios out into the frantic crowd around her. Dark, tumbling curls framed her silver mask as she raised her wand—pointing it at Sirius’s turning back. Hermione’s heart was slamming into her rib cage as she felt a pull—a connection to the next Death Eater that stepped out behind Bellatrix. She knew that pattern, knew that sickly, tacky magic that emitted from his tall form, and knew the wand that had also raised, daring to point at Sirius as a flash of purple erupted from his downward slash. She moved, hands outstretched as she yanked him back, narrowly avoiding Dolohov’s curse. Her magic swelling as terror broke past her occlumency. Sirius’s confident face morphed instantly as he noticed what was going on, just a moment too late as Bellatrix’s crucio clipped his falling body.

 

She forced open the bond, her magic prying into his core as she forced herself around him, inside him, as she took it from him—directing the curse to her instead. He was screaming as she writhed on the floor. It was like a thousand magical knives pierced into her over and over again as she clenched her jaw, forcing herself not to scream as she waited—as she cast another protego to deflect Dolohov’s second curse. Sirius forced her up, pulling her body out of the way of the incoming curses and behind a corner as she struggled to catch her breath. It was just a second, a mere second, but it had ruined her all the same.

 

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again, Hermione. Let me take it; please just let me take it instead,” Sirius snarled; his face was twisted, but his voice, his voice was flooded with worry, his grip punishing yet steadying against her twitching nerves. His eyes were shaking, his body vibrating with tension as sheer panic overwhelmed him. His hold instantly eased the moment he noticed her painful glance at his hands. He leaned in, his clammy skin connecting with hers as he gave her a chaste kiss. The corner of the wall exploded beside them, tiny bits of debris falling down with the snow around them as Sirius moved to cover her from the blast. He frowned when he heard familiar screams, one of his hands coming up to rub his chest as he made a decision.

 

“I’m sorry, love.”

 

It was fascinating to her how sounds formed and created words—how those very words conjured by another could act as a balm and, in the same breath, wound just as deeply. She realized he had dared to stun her, her body paralyzed as he stood on shaky legs. He placed a subtle notice-me-not on her frozen form before turning to peek around their corner. His chest was moving fast as he turned back to her, his grey eyes softening for a second as he looked at her face. Another scream, and those soft greys turned to steel as he slowly rose, his wand tightly gripped as he stepped out to face Bellatrix and Dolohov alone.

 

That little shit. She didn’t know whether she was going to hex him or snog him silly once this was all done. Perhaps she would invent a new way to do both at the same time. Her pulse raced once she heard his grunt of pain, the wind blowing her hair out of her face—the scent of blood, of his blood, filled her.

 

She decided she would curse him as the thunderous sounds of the battle resumed; each violent wave of magic bounced off the walls of the shops and vibrated through the stones beneath her feet. Her rage building, overpowering her fear as she wandlessly removed his stunner, she hesitated, leaving his notice-me-not as she snapped her fingers, her fallen wand shooting into the air, following behind her as she walked over to the corner.

 

Looking up at the Morsmorde floating in the sky, she decided she had had enough.

 

She stilled her twitching hands, eyes glowing as she rounded the corner to see Sirius barely fending off both Death Eaters, dark magic oozing from his skin, various cuts now decorating his towering frame as he transfigured Dolohov’s mask into a heavy metal weight—throwing him off balance as he crashed to the floor. Bellatrix’s maniacal laughter taunted Sirius as she sent curse after curse in his direction. Remus and Severus were down, blood staining their clothing as they tried to crawl away from the crossfire. She saw James running over, his face red as he lobbed a hex toward Bellatrix’s back. There was a flash of dark red. Lily was right behind him, her arm furiously swinging as she shielded James. She had let this drag on far too long. Guilt slowly consumed her as she occluded harder.

 

“Fuck!” Sirius screamed as he fell, gripping his side. Bellatrix had caught him with a slicing hex. Hermione rushed forward, kneeling over him as she whispered the counter-curse, healing his injuries instantly.

 

“Oh no, love—”

 

Hermione glared at him as she gritted her teeth, her wand floating behind her, radiating a pulsing red glow as if to match her rolling anger. She ignored his pleading as she stood and faced Bellatrix. Dolohov was still struggling with his iron mask as she raised her hand, eyes glowing as she willed her magic into the street below them; it spread out like ravenous vines, spanning the entirety of Hogsmeade connecting just below each Death Eater. Her mind focused, forcing her will through her magic as she uttered a soft animadverto me—above each Death Eater’s head, a small blue flame flickered to life, the soft light filling the streets in an eerie hue.

 

“What fun! Little ickle mudblood wants to play with magic, does she?”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Bella.” Sirius hissed as he struggled to stand. Hermione stepped close to him, her arm outstretched as she helped him up, her eyes never leaving Bellatrix’s form.

 

“Love, what are you doing?” Sirius questioned as he pointed his wand back at Bellatrix. She ignored him.

 

“Leave now, return to your half-blood master like a good little servant.”

 

Bellatrix screamed in rage as she raised her wand, dark red sparks flying from its tip as she stalked forward.

 

“Tell him my answer.” Hermione softly spoke, her face calm as her wand floated gently into her hand. Her arm shot out, pointing straight up as she whispered the curse.

 

“Fiendfyre.”

 

Bellatrix shrank back as a large blue flame burst from the tip of her wand, shooting straight into the sky. It parted the clouds, cutting through the snow as silence descended once more, all eyes on the pillar of light shooting into the sky, soft whispers, gasps of wonder and horror escaped the lips of those watching as the fire transformed into a bright blue phoenix, its wings unfurled, spanning across all of Hogsmeade as a shrill scream tore from its mouth. It shot forward, talons outstretched as it tore into the morsmorde floating above the town, devouring the dark magic before splitting off into hundreds of smaller phoenixes and descending. Terrified screams broke the silence as the phoenixes dove, their fiery eyes focused on the brilliant blue flames resting above each Death Eater. One by one the Phoenixes incinerated any Death Eater foolish enough to stay behind, combing the streets for their next target—loud pops of disapparation tore through the air as they fled. Sweat dripped down Hermione’s face as she willed the fire to only burn those who had been marked.

 

Bellatrix stood frozen as her wild eyes took in the sight. Hermione steadied her trembling muscles as she leaned against Sirius, hiding the strain of the magic as she pushed through the complexity of maintaining it all. It was only seconds before Bellatrix and Dolohov were the only ones left, hundreds of fiery birds convening on their position before melting back together into one large, monstrous form. Bellatrix turned, wand raised as she helped Dolohov with his mask, their forms rushing together. Bellatrix raised her wand as if she could handle the raging fiendfyre beast.

 

“Don’t be a fool—let’s go.” Dolohov hissed, forcefully grabbing Bellatrix’s arm as she screeched in rage before being ripped away just before the phoenix could consume them.

 

All around them, loud pops of apparition filled the air as the Aurors finally arrived. Hermione snapped her fingers; the phoenix snuffed out instantly. She ignored the shouting as she helped Sirius up fully, her soft eyes checking him over for any more injuries before gently leading him to where Remus and Severus were being tended to by Lily and James. She ignored the fearful, reverent gazes of those around her as she ensured all of her people were safe, were healed.

 

This was a complete mess. She closed her eyes, her head tilting back as she allowed the heat of the surrounding fires to warm her face—her eyes cracking open to see a clear sky, filled with soft white flurries.

 

“Wands up! You all are being detained.”

Notes:

I cannot express how much I appreciate all of you! For all of those who are new, I typically post 2-3 times a week. More if I can, the holidays have been really challenging, but I don't have any plans for more travel from here on out.

Thank you all <3

Chapter 54: Stargazer

Summary:

Envy is a vice, beware other farmers who look upon your fields with such an emotion

Notes:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is my first fanfic

TW: Violence, Death

---

“The nation that will insist on drawing a broad line of demarcation between the fighting man and the thinking man is liable to find its fighting done by fools and its thinking done by cowards.”― William Francis Butler

---

February 13th, 1976 Ministry of Magic—Level 2

 

Blank walls and deathly silence surrounded her.

 

Hermione shifted in her intentionally uncomfortable ministry interrogation chair—she wondered just how many galleons were wasted on designing a chair just uncomfortable enough to ensure someone was irritated enough to talk but not enough to snap. Knowing how muggles and magicals worked, it was probably an obscene amount of galleons funneled through someone’s long-lost nephew or cousin as a repayment for a favor. However, she supposed it was doing the opposite of what they had intended, for with each readjustment it helped her calculate her next moves. Her magic was slowly testing the boundaries and limitations placed on the room—obviously curses and hexes were out of the question, but it looked like this room did not have full magic nullification. Basic conjuring, vanishing, some charms, and household spells still seemed to work.

 

How foolish of them.

 

Internal magic still worked as intended; she could still occlude smoothly and feel the bond between her and Sirius. She closed her eyes as she silently sent more calming waves through their bond. He was spiking between growing irritation, anxiety, and exasperation—she hoped he didn’t do anything too extreme. It had been roughly 3 hours since they had been arrested in Hogsmeade. Her tempus shone brightly in the corner of the room as she documented the length of time. Even after protests from other onlookers, the Aurors had still rounded them up and confiscated their wands, and what was worse was that they had been separated as soon as Sirius stated his last name.

 

Gossip filled the ministry as Aurors made a point to draw attention to him, stating his name loudly at each security check-in, feeding the curiosity of the journalistic vultures littered about the ministry’s interior. Rage filled her as she noted each transgression of these overconfident brutes—the way they had yanked on his hair to get his attention, how they had handled him rougher than Death Eaters they had caught. She had counted each strand they had torn from his head—each barely concealed punch and kick as she made a new list in her mind. Those with the audacity to compound his abuse would be dealt with expeditiously. She had not yet decided if they would be dealt with publicly or discreetly; she mused it would all fall on how her interrogation would go.

 

She fiddled with the courtship bracelet around her wrist as she picked up the sound of footsteps just outside the door—a lopsided smirk filled her face as she smelled it, the bitter scent of a dark mark becoming stronger and stronger. Her animagus senses went into overdrive as she pulled her magic back. The door opened, revealing two Aurors. Both were unfamiliar to her, but one—a tall, burly wizard that had chosen to stay back, leaning against the door—was full of rot. She had smelled them before, older marks where the scent had faded with time like Huxley’s, but this one seemed fresh.

 

Publicly it is.

 

She leaned back into her chair, arms crossing in her lap as she shifted. They both watched with curious eyes as she tilted her head, a playful smile gracing her lips.

 

“Hello, my name is Cain Leonard, an inspector with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

 

The man narrowed his eyes when his introduction was met with silence. His tone lost a bit of warmth as he continued.

 

“This is my partner, Sergeant Rodger Snyde. We would just like to ask you a few questions.”

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

 

“MR. BLACK! MR. BLACK! LOOK HERE!”

 

Sirius winced, eyes turning away from the flurry of flashes after each question.

 

“ARE THEY CHARGING YOU IN CONNECTION WITH THE ATTACK ON HOGSMEADE?”

 

“LORD BLACK, ANY COMMENT ON YOUR HEIR’S DETAINMENT?”

 

Sirius twisted the Black heir ring on his finger as he paced along the corridor that separated them from the reporters; it had been three hours since they had been split up. He paused his pacing only for a moment to adjust the collar of his shirt before the itch underneath his skin morphed into a nauseating quivering in his gut. Stillness was making it worse, and so his feet moved, one step in front of the other, as he started his pacing once again. Chewing his lips as he ignored the growing crowd and the trickle of sweat pooling on the back of his neck as he replayed the icy glare Hermione had given him during the battle in his mind.

 

He was so fucked.

 

“Pads, please, mate, just settle down; you’re starting to give me a headache.” James grumbled as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the tiled wall. He was gently cradling Lily, who had fallen into a light sleep, his fingers toying with a lock of her hair as he carefully readjusted them both. The events of the day were catching up with everyone as they struggled through their adrenaline crash. Arcturus’s small nod in agreement did nothing to persuade him to stop or to help with the growing irritation he had with each new wave of comments being shouted in his direction. His emotions were oscillating, throwing him into chaos the longer this went on. Everyone had been released, except her. Why?

 

“DID YOU HAVE ANY CONNECTION TO THE DARK MARK CAST?”

 

Sirius’s eyes flashed in rage as he slowly turned his attention to the reporters. He needed an outlet, needed to do something to curb this anxiety and anger building; the thought crossed his mind—perhaps another detainment wouldn’t be so bad, and this time it would be because he actually did something worth legal scrutiny. A small part of him jumped at the chance to have a legitimate reason to avoid Hermione’s wrath as well. He stilled as the thought buried itself deeper into his consciousness.

 

“WHO CAST THE FIENDFYRE PHOENIX?”

“13 CASUALTIES AND RISING—WAS IT ANOTHER STUDENT WHO KILLED THOSE DEATH EATERS?”

 

A chill ran up his back as he stilled, a small frown forming on his face as he swallowed down the rising need to defend her—defend their actions. Severus stepped in front of his path, his black eyes signaling what he already knew. Silence, he needed to devour the words on the tip of his tongue and occlude. They didn’t know whether the ministry would be lenient or vengeful. His grey eyes took in the glossy blackish-green tiles and charmed lights hovering above them as he raised his mental shields, a soft sigh releasing from his lips as a heavy wave of peace flooded his body.

 

OH

 

A crooked smile filled his face when he slid his magic through their bond, his eyes widening as the flashes of lights around them became blinding. The peace that had flooded him steeled his will as he turned to the group behind him. He whistled a soft melody that caught the attention of the rest. James and Lily slowly woke, their hazy eyes focusing on his infectious change in mood. Arcturus raised an eyebrow, his conversation with the family solicitor paused as he watched Sirius start to shuffle, to grab Severus in an impromptu dance as the melody from his lips filled the hall. Severus’s terrified eyes added to the growing tension filling the air. The questions from reporters cut off as they watched the odd exchange, their eyes unable to pull away from them.

 

“Pads?”

 

Remus’s body flooded with adrenaline at the dazzling smile that had taken over his face; his body switched into a tense excitement as if he was conditioned to Sirius’s madness. A low rumbling laugh slipped past his lips as he dipped Severus; it grew louder and louder as he snapped him back up into a dizzying twirl. Remus caught the way Severus had tried to pull away, but Sirius’s punishing grip held him tightly. Everyone was mesmerized as his eyes slowly narrowed into a predatory gaze—it was haunting, it was exhilarating.

 

It was choking now, the heavy pressure building in the air—the darkness of the magic coiling as if ready to strike. Some reporters stepped back, their eyes wide, their instincts reacting to the danger even if they couldn’t understand what they were seeing.

 

Sirius slowly let go of Severus, throwing back his head in a deep barking laugh as he opened his arms wide, glossy black hair falling back—the paleness of his skin glowing under the deep burgundy of dried blood on his face and neck. His rumpled, blood-covered shirt fell open at the top as he closed his eyes. Screams erupted as the ministry shook, the blaring alarms sounded as all the lights cut off and blanketed them in darkness.

 

They scrambled, finding their way together as Sirius’s eerie laughs filled the darkness.

 

“Atta Girl”

 

His low gush of approval between the terrified cries of the ministry employees and reporters stunned everyone as the lights cut back on; now, instead of a soft white, the charmed lighting turned red. Strobing along with the blaring alarm that had started shrieking louder. Sirius was moving again, his steps fluid as he danced to the chaos building around them.

 

“CODE RED-CODE RED—ALL AURORS TO MINISTRY LEVEL 2”

 

His melody rang out, filling everyone with terror as Sirius’s eyes sparkled red with mischief under the light.

 

“THREAT LEVEL ALPHA—CODE RED—ALL SECURITY PERSONNEL TO MINISTRY LEVEL 2”

 

More screams erupted as the ministry shook again, small bits of tile falling as if the entire building was under attack. The lights flickered as loud cracks of apparition bounced off the tiles, amplifying the sounds. Aurors started to thin out as they rushed to respond.

 

“MINISTRY LOCKDOWN COMMENCING IN 5”

 

“Look alive!” Sirius sang.

 

“4”

 

Black figures appeared, moving through the fleeing crowd toward their location.

 

“3”

 

Sirius spun his wand as he continued to dance in place; Remus pulled his wand as he stepped to Sirius’s side. Severus’s black eyes reflected the red strobing lights as his wand arm raised. James moved, deadly silent in the chaos as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Severus. The four of them standing united as they blocked the hall. Arcturus stepped out in front of Lily and the others, his pulse racing as a small smile threatened to emerge.

 

“2”

 

One brave, or perhaps foolish, reporter snapped a photo before running to hide behind a potted plant. The black figures wands were sparking as they channeled their curses.

 

“1”

 

It was a kaleidoscope of colors—red, blue, gold, purple, and green—as hell descended.

 

Sirius stalked forward, his hand steady as he crushed the first Death Eater that dared to challenge him.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

“What were you doing in Hogsmeade today?”

 

“It’s a Hogwarts-approved day. Just like all the other students, I was there to hang out with my friends and boyfriend.” Her tone set Leonard on edge; he swallowed, and for a faint moment he swore he could taste the dripping sweetness of it. Snyde scoffed. His body stilled as he noticed her piercing gaze turn and land on him. Golden eyes narrowed as she slightly cocked her head to the side, studying him with a look of disgust, pausing just long enough to evaluate him. He shifted, unable to bear her unflinching eye contact any longer, and lowered his eyes, breaking away from their connection—he clenched his fists when he heard her soft chuckle.

 

“Can you describe what happened today?” Leonard continued his tone, dulling into a monotone drawl that she assumed was meant to try to deescalate some of the growing tension in the room. Her eyes shifted back, taking in his appearance. He was an older wizard, some slight greys combined with his honey-gold hair. A stern fellow by the way he was sitting—a rule follower, she surmised as she documented all the steps he had taken that fell in line with ministry protocol to a tee.

 

“We left Hogwarts this afternoon and took a stroll through the streets. Made a quick stop into Tomes and Scrolls and Zonko’s before making our way back to the Three Broomsticks.”

 

Leonard paused; his quick quill notes continued to write as he leaned back in his seat.

 

“Is that when you attacked?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

Leonard pressed his lips together in a line before he straightened his posture. She took note of the way he picked at the cuticle of his thumb with his pointer finger. A possible misdirect, as he looked calm, but his magic was screaming at her—boiling just beneath his skin.

 

“Is that when you attacked Mr. Dornis?”

 

“Oh, was that the name of the Death Eater?”

 

Snyde bristled, his jaw clenching as he shifted his body off the door; she could feel his growing disgust and panic. She dug in a bit deeper.

 

“Was he a friend of yours, Mr. Leonard—the dead Death Eater, Mr. Dornis?”

 

Leonard paled; he swallowed softly.

 

“How about you, Mr. Snyde? Was that dead Death Eater a friend of yours?”

 

 

She felt the tickle of Sirius’s growing rage in the back of her mind. Sending another calming wave through their bond, she decided to test something. Her mind focused, her magic rose as she sent one thought through the bond.

 

PREY HUNT

 

She smiled the moment she felt his magic reach out through the bond; a serene understanding filled her as she felt his joy rising.

 

Leonard stiffened in his seat, his muscles going rigid as a dazed look took over his face.

“A Death Eater, you say?”

 

“Yes, the menacing silver mask, black robes, and group participation in an ambush were enough to clue me in on his alliances.” Her voice tilted at the end, eyebrows jumping up just slightly as she shifted again.

 

Leonard’s quill was writing furiously.

 

“That’s a heavy accusation, Miss Evans. Mr. Dornis was not found with either of those, but witnesses near the body did state you were the one to attack him.”

 

“It’s a funny little thing, the masks, and robes. Would you like to know a secret?” She lowered her tone as she leaned in, a dazzling smile on her face; Leonard shifted back just slightly, his unease growing under her unflinching stare. Silence grew between them; Hermione smiled wider.

 

“Mr. Leonard, I asked whether you’d like to know a secret.” Her tone had shifted, more playful, more predatory.

 

“I bet you’d like to know all my secrets—wouldn’t you, Mr. Snyde?”

 

“How dare you—” Snyde growled as he pushed off the door, his steps loud as he made his way over to the table. Hermione eyed the small flashing light of the recording charm in the corner of the room. Her eyes snapped to Snyde, a fanged sneer took over as she snapped her fingers. His mouth vanished, his eyes widening in horror as his hands scrambled and clawed at his face. Where his mouth had been before was now a smooth patch of pale skin.

 

“I fucking dare.”

 

Snyde started to scream, his muffled voice joining the metallic clattering of Leonard’s chair as he jumped up in shock, his eyes panicking as he looked to his partner.

 

“What the fuck? How did you—”

 

Hermione leaned back in her chair, one hand running through her curls as she snapped her finger again; a new chair appeared. Snyde’s body jerked forward as if he was possessed, his body moving like a disjointed marionette as he was forced into the seat, his left arm coming up to slam onto the table. Hermione’s eyes flashed gold for just a second, the sight startling both wizards.

 

“Pick up your chair and sit down, Mr. Leonard; I’d like to tell you something important.” She commanded as she waited. She could hear the loud stomping of steps gathering just outside their door. Leonard pulled his wand from his holster, pointing it at her as he bent to pick up his chair. Raising her eyebrow at his actions, her foot began to tap on the ground as she waited, her impatience with his hesitation growing. She tsked and silenced Snyde; his muffled screaming was just a bit too much for her at the moment.

 

Leonard sat down, his eyes never leaving her as she heard the voices growing outside the door—Leonard twitched; he too caught the noise of reinforcements gathering just outside, his chest puffing up as he regained his confidence. Although sweat was collecting on his brow, his body was tense as if he were wrangling a particularly ornery dragon.

 

She leaned forward, the action causing Leonard to flinch, his body deflating just a bit before his face fell into a blank mask—occlusion, she suspected.

 

“I found out that the mask and robes are tied to the Dark Mark, their precious Dark Lord made. When one becomes incapacitated for a certain period of time, they vanish. And well, if they die…it can never be recalled,” she shared as if she was gossiping about the latest fashion article in Witch Weekly.

 

“Brilliant little fail-safe in case one of his little minions gets caught or killed.”

 

Leonard’s brow furrowed as he took in her words.

 

“Short of lifting every sleeve of every person you ever meet, you’d never suspect someone could be carrying something so nasty—isn’t that right, Mr. Snyde.” She hissed as she forcefully tapped her finger on the table. Leonard froze, his whole body shifting away from his partner as he turned, his eyes widening as he noticed she had removed the left sleeve of his uniform. The dark mark sat pulsing on his pale skin.

 

“Well would you look at that? I’ve seen a few, dark marks, you know.” She smirked, her eyes lingering on Snyde’s arm.

 

“But this one, this one looks fresh, Mr. Leonard. I wonder…who else is carrying this on their arms right now.”

 

She sniffed, her pupils darkening as she nodded her head toward the door.

 

“The secret is, Mr. Leonard. Your backup? Well, it isn’t for you—it’s for him.”

“Fuck,” Leonard grunted as he jumped up, his wand turning toward the door. She could smell his nervousness as he moved through different protection spells.

 

Hermione stood and moved until she was standing in front of the blinking light.

 

“Initiate protocol ALPHA. Terrorists have infiltrated the ministry and are currently working undercover—I know you’re watching. Tell Barty Sr. If he’s there, that I, Hermione Evans, invoke immunity under Article 3.14, subsection 625 of the Articles of Domestic Defense. Hurry before you have a massacre on your hands.”

 

She turned, snapping her fingers as she stunned Snyde and flipped the table.

 

“Mr. Leonard, come get behind the table. It’s spelled to repel most curses—I don’t think they’re going to be gentle breaking past your wards.”

 

Leonard whipped his head around, sweat dripping as he shook his head in a brief moment of confusion before moving to crouch behind the table.

 

“How do you know all of this?” His breath hitched as the building shook and the door rattled as they tried to break through the wards he had placed.

 

“I enjoy reading.” She quipped as she bent to take Snyde’s wand, frowning as she noticed it was a hawthorn wand, similar to Bellatrix’s. It was a stubborn little thing, so she pushed more of her magic through it. For a moment she worried she’d break it as it continued to resist, but it eventually bowed and responded, although less enthusiastically than most wands she had used.

 

She blinked when the alarms started blaring, the assault on their door intensifying.

 

“Listen, I know it’s going to sound barmy, but I need you to drop your wards.”

“You’re right, that is barmy—why would I even listen to you? You’re what? 16? Leave the fighting and strategy to me.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. Leonard’s mouth dropped open as he turned to scold her. She cut him off before he could start in earnest.

 

“Mr. Leonard, I just fought Death Eaters and won—NOW I’m going to have to do so again, this time with a wand that isn’t even very compatible.” She showed him the borrowed wand.

 

“The only way out of this is to take them off guard first. We are stuck here like fish in a barrel when they do eventually break down the door.” She sighed. She wondered how he even got promoted to inspector with such a slow uptake.

 

“Homenum Revelio”

 

A soft white magic rippled from the hawthorn wand as it blanketed the hidden forms in an opaque silvery hue, revealing bodies on the other side of the door—six in total.

 

“Dammit. Fine, but tell me what you’re going to do.” He hissed as he moved to start unraveling his wards.

 

“I’m going to knock them out. Forcefully.”

 

“That’s it? That’s your brilliant plan?”

 

“Oh, shush—you’ll see; take them down and then cover your ears.” She pushed, eyes surveying the room before she landed on Snyde’s unconscious body. She levitated him behind their table. She didn’t want another reason for the ministry to hold onto her.

 

“Fuck, fuck! FUCK—Excuse my language, Miss Evans,” he whispered as the final ward started to crumble. Hermione closed her eyes, forcing her magic out to connect with the ambient magic nestled into the very walls of the room. Pulling, she dragged the protections away from the wall before snapping her eyes open.

 

She jumped up, wand hand firm as she yelled out the charm.

 

“BOMBARDIA MAXIMA!”

 

The explosion rocked the very foundations as her explosive magic demolished the wall and clashed with the protective enchantments woven into the rest of the building—the wall crumbled, parts turning into dust as it took out the Death Eaters on the other side.

 

“CODE RED-CODE RED—ALL AURORS TO MINISTRY LEVEL 2”

 

Hermione shook her head, her ears ringing as she swayed as she moved to stand, trying to get over the momentary shock of the blast. The table had protected them from much of the debris and shockwave, but not enough. She coughed, clearing her throat of the irritating dust as she turned to check if Mr. Leonard was okay. His pale face was determined as he jumped up, wand pointed in her direction—she didn’t have an opportunity to counter his spell.

 

“Stupefy!”

 

Leonard grunted as he took out a new Death Eater that had appeared behind her.

 

“THREAT LEVEL ALPHA—CODE RED—ALL SECURITY PERSONNEL TO MINISTRY LEVEL 2”

 

“Come on, we have to get out of here and into the main wing of the department. We’ll be able to find reinforcements there.”

 

She nodded her head, whispering a soft thank you as she dusted off her clothes and headed in the direction that he pointed to.

 

“What about Mr. Snyde?”

“Leave him. I’ll use a detainment spell he shouldn’t have knowledge of.”

 

They moved, wands raised as they made their way through the labyrinth of corridors. Her senses were in overdrive as she caught a familiar scent as they neared a lobby. She tensed; there was more bitterness ahead—they both caught the noise of a wand fight as they rounded the corner. She took a deep breath before pushing herself forward.

“BOMBARDIA!”

 

She yelled as she took out another group of Death Eaters that had positioned themselves behind a side wall. Another explosion, smaller this time but just as damaging as the building shook. She could feel it growing—the anger, the magic soaked into the walls and floor, sparking and coming alive to defend herself. She sucked in a breath as the building groaned.

 

“MINISTRY LOCKDOWN COMMENCING IN 5”

 

“Lass! There you are!” Moody’s gruff voice filled her with a sense of relief as the other Aurors around them stood stunned at her display. Leonard broke away, moving as he caught sight of Barty Crouch Sr.

 

“4”

 

“That was bloody brilliant work you did—let’s get you somewhere safe.” Moody stated as he moved to protect her, his large frame blocking her from the view of the others.

 

“3”

 

She sniffed, a deep growl building in her chest as she pulled away from him and crouched low, her wand coming up as she shot a silent stunner off near the rest of the Aurors. They scrambled, screams ringing out as they moved to protect the department head. Moody cursed as he dragged her back hard, his fingers digging into her shoulder.

 

“2”

 

There was a loud thump as a large body fell, the Death Eater’s disillusion dissipating as he was knocked unconscious. His limp form just inches away from Crouch Sr.

 

“1”

 

“Remember, Constant Vigilance, Moody.”

 

Alarms screamed all around them as they stared at her with a hint of horror and surprise.

 

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

 

Sirius growled out as he landed another punch, the silver mask crumbling under his hits as he wailed on the thrashing form under him.

 

“Just fucking give it up already.”

 

He swatted away the Death Eaters flailing arms as he landed another punch; this time the body under him went limp—he sighed in relief. His hands were throbbing, but his body was burning, his magic rolling in ecstasy as he jumped up and rolled away from a nasty-looking curse. It struck the unconscious Death Eater he had just been on top of—he gagged as the sharp smell of putrid decay filled the air. The curse was an organ-rotting one, it seemed. He turned, eyes scanning the battle for the individual who sent it, but was caught off guard by the loud cracks of apparition as a swarm of Aurors surrounded the lobby.

 

“WANDS UP—YOU ALL ARE UNDER ARREST.”

 

He groaned.

 

Not again.

 

The tide of the battle turned instantly as the remaining conscious Death Eaters raised their wands in surrender. The Aurors flooded into the lobby, yanking up anyone closest to them and vanishing their left sleeve before separating them into groups.

 

He debated fighting but ultimately allowed them to roughly pull him along. An older wizard vanished his sleeve, and an expression of surprise when he did not find a mark on his skin made Sirius’s hackles rise. He wanted to tear his throat out to wipe that look off his face—to really give him an excuse to be surprised. Tensing, his whole body flooded with energy as he pulled against the Auror’s hold, his nose going into overdrive as his magic dominated the room. Several people tensed when they felt it.

 

 

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing—”

The Auror yelled as he struggled to hold onto Sirius. He ignored the shouting as he frantically looked around the room; he could feel her, could smell her delicious scent taking over.

 

“SIRIUS!”

Her voice tore through him, driving him forward.

 

“GET BACK HERE!”

 

He snarled as he ripped himself away, running in the direction of her voice, his body dodging the stunners sent his way.

 

“HERMIONE!”

 

His yell rang out as he spotted her small form push past a gruff wizard—Moody, his mind supplied as he ranked over her form. She was covered in dry blood and dark dust, but she looked radiant as she ran to him.

 

“HOLD YOUR FIRE! HE’S FRIENDLY.” Moody screamed.

 

Sirius’s heart was pounding as he opened his arms and promptly yelped as his legs gave out, her stunner knocking him off his feet. He panicked, his body frozen as he looked up at the ministry ceiling. He could hear the gasps of confusion around them as her footsteps got closer. He sucked in a breath as she finally came back into view, her beauty stunning him once more as she glared down at him.

 

“YOU STUPID MUTT!” She hissed out in a soft whisper.

 

She dropped to her knees, kneeling beside his stunned form, leaning down, her soft lips caressing his ear as she promptly informed him just how angry he had made her in the battle before.

 

“You ever do that to me again, and next time I’ll put your bollocks in a vise.”

 

He was spiraling between horror and curiosity; the image of her standing over him, squeezing him caused his cock to twitch. He blushed as she undid her magic. Pushing himself up, he smiled when she rushed to hug him, relief flooding through him. Her tantalizing scent filled him with happiness and heat—he buried his face in her hair, breathing deeply as he pulled her into his lap, hiding his growing enjoyment of her hands on him from the prying eyes of hundreds of strangers.

 

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Sirius.” Her voice was wobbly as he felt her start to sob into his chest. He pulled her tighter.

 

“Are you okay, Princess?”

 

She nodded, and he sighed in relief, peppering her head and any skin he could find with soft kisses.

 

“Ahem.” A gritty cough made him growl as he pulled his face away from her, his eyes blazing in rage as he eyed the person who dared to interrupt their reunion.

 

“As happy as you all seem here, we need to get you up and out to a safe location.”

 

Moody chided as he motioned in the direction of the rest of the non-Death Eaters. Sirius sighed, his muscles bulging as he wrapped his arms around Hermione, easily pulling her into a hold against his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck. His heart was beating heavily as he relished the press of her body against his.

 

He hardly remembered the rest of the day as he held her tighter and tighter, unwilling to be separated from her. A deep, unsettling dread filled him.

 

FEBRUARY 14th, 1976 Riddle Manor

 

THE RISING STAR AND THE BRIGHTEST WITCH OF OUR AGE

HORRIFIC ATTACK ON HOGSMEADE THWARTED

DEATH EATERS INFILTRATE THE MINISTRY

Article by: Herald Sinclair

Daily Prophet Lead Investigator

 

It is a harrowing tale I have come to you all to share—not one but TWO Death Eater attacks thwarted by 5th-year Hogwarts students. You heard that right, students. A young couple that has taken the wizarding world by storm, the young Black Heir Sirius Orion Black III and his chosen companion—a young Muggle-born named Hermione Evans—have been touted as heroes by bystanders in both attacks.

 

Hermione Evans of the Most Illustrious and Noble House of Evans, regaled as the Brightest Witch of her age by peers, astonished the world when she masterfully controlled fiendfyre to defend Hogsmeade against Death Eaters, marking them with her very own signature Blue Bell Flame (see page 4 for details) before commanding her fiery Phoenix to attack. Sirius Black, the heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, took on two of the most notorious Death Eaters, only known at this time as the Wrath and the Viper by their distinctive markings on their masks (see page 8 for more details.) While this is highly impressive and unheard of, our dazzling couple still had more to give. Later in the day, Hermione Evans unveiled an undercover Death Eater within the ministry, while a violent takeover was brewing and led the charge to retake the ministry as her handsome beau Sirius Black dominated the counterattack in the upper levels of the ministry.

More details will follow as we investigate this further.

 

Minister Harold Minchum released a statement regarding the incident:

 

“It was a display of extraordinary skill and bravery, along with their other companions. We will be honoring this along with other members of the ministry and public that fought bravely. We will not tolerate terrorists; we will not bow down or bend to the pressure these crazed individuals cause. Today I have authorized and advised the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Barty Crouch Sr. on the use of lethal force and unforgivables to combat these terrorists. The ministry will be enacting more security protocols to ensure no one with a Dark Mark can even cross into her halls ever again. A memorial and funeral service will be held for all those killed today later this month.”

 

Haunting scenes captured by our field reporters show just how horrific the damage caused today extends. One has to ask, why did the weight of battle fall on the shoulders of young students? Where were our leaders? Our champions?

 

Riddle calmly folded the Prophet, his jaw clenched as he looked at the photo that had been delivered to him. His fingers traced her pale skin, eyes lingering on the blood painting her face—on the golden glow of her eyes as her brilliant phoenix tore through the sky. Desire flooded through him as he stroked the photo. He had always desired rare things—desired power. Her neck looked so delicate, her shoulders slender, yet her magic. It was devastating.

 

Perhaps it was time he took a more personal approach to Miss Hermione Evans.