Chapter Text
Hermione sat in the overstuffed rocking chair in Scorpius’ room, nursing the angelic boy, as Sirius and James set about unpacking and unshrinking his things from her satchel. Regulus and Lucius had abruptly excused themselves when she had begun undoing the buttons of her shirt, but no one else seemed phased by it.
“I don’t think I’ve gone one interaction with Molly Weasley in nearly four years without seeing a child attached to her bosom,” Sirius had quipped when she asked him about it.
Narcissa had taken Teddy down to the kitchen for a “proper breakfast,” whatever that meant, leaving her a moment to settle in. Once James and Sirius were done setting up the room, she would be able to put Scorpius down for his morning nap, then go tend to Walburga.
Minerva had headed back to Hogwarts, where she would send word through official channels to pull Remus from the packs. Regulus had been permitted to stay due to a family emergency, and was having a rest after the turmoil he had experienced that morning. Hermione was excited to get to know him, as he had always been an enigma to her. She had often stayed in his room before she and Draco married, and she felt like she knew him a little from his journals and old potions notes he had left about the very Slytherin bedroom.
Which reminded her. “Sirius, can you do me a favor?”
He immediately looked up at her and smiled warmly. “Of course, love. What is it?”
She flushed at the endearment, just as she had when she was 15, the incorrigible flirt hadn’t changed a bit in the future. “Remove the bikini clad muggles from the walls in your bedroom. You will be pleased to know they were still present 20 years in the future, but we need Walburga to believe you reformed.”
He barked out a laugh. “You’ve been in my bedroom?”
She nodded, laughing softly so as not to disturb Scorpius. “Many times. Harry moved into your room after your death, and I stayed in Regulus’ room. He was like my brother, and no one else understood each other like we did. After my… encounter with Bellatrix, it was for the best that we had rooms next to each other. We both had nightmares about that night, the horrid screaming in your sleep kind. It wasn’t uncommon for us to wake up in your room with several of our friends snuggled up around us in that colossal bed of yours.”
James was looking at her with misty eyes once again. “Do you still get nightmares about it?”
“Yes and no. I still have nightmares, but they are usually about other things. Most recently watching Death Eaters torture and kill muggles in Grimmauld Square, trying to draw me out,” she said calmly, mostly to not alarm them further, but also to get it off her chest. “Muggle London had fallen, and they were burning the city. Voldemort would even show up and stare at where Number 12 should be. I was the secret keeper in my time, and they had seen I was Head of House Black, so they knew I was still alive and hiding there with the boys.”
Hermione looked up to see both wizards frozen in shock. James looked like he could weep and Sirius looked enraged, but found his words first. “If you need help sleeping, we will help you. Lily is a great snuggler, as is Remus. Prongs is just okay, a bit of a blanket hog, if I’m honest—“
James chucked a pillow at him in protest. “Oi! Speak for yourself, Padfoot!”
Sirius caught it and flung it right back, then continued as if there hadn’t been any interruption. “They did it for me when things were bad with me and my folks. And we have done it for Moony after a particularly bad Moon. Well, not Peter, he always thought it was a bit weird, but I can assure you, there was no funny business.”
“I’ll tell you my heart nearly broke the first time Lily said she wanted to go sleep with Sirius,” James said with a laugh, “but after the first night I understood.”
She smiled at him fondly, purposefully not acknowledging the mention of Peter Pettigrew. “Harry must have gotten it from Lily. He is the one who started the tradition. I may take you up on that, but I should probably meet Lily and Remus first before asking them to crawl into bed for a cuddle.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Moony would probably agree immediately,” James teased, causing Sirius to snort. “Lily is going to love you. In fact, I take that back, maybe you two shouldn’t meet. You both are scary enough on your own and I don’t think we would survive if you ganged up on us.”
“Good thinking!” Sirius nodded in agreement, then shot her a wink. “Only way to save our own skins and keep the blood shed to a minimum is if they never meet.”
“You two are horrible,” she giggled, it had been so long since she had heard lighthearted banter or teasing, she almost forgot what it felt like. From everything she had heard, she knew she would get along with Lily and Remus the best at this age.
Her heart clenched thinking of the older Moony she had known, and how much he had suffered. “I may need your help convincing Remus to take a potion that’s not yet been invented. It’s called Wolfsbane, and I brought the entire stockpile we had at headquarters. He will still transform into a werewolf, but Moony won’t take over his mind. In my time, he would still secure himself, but would read books or watch muggle television until sunrise and he was able to lead a relatively normal life. I know his wolf will be naturally suspicious of me, but I brought tons of research and texts for him to go over.”
James let out a slow whistle. “Moony is definitely going to want to crawl into your bed for a cuddle.”
“Merlin, witch! Anything other Bombardas you want to drop on us?” Sirius was watching her in disbelief.
Hermione tried to suppress her laugh while she pulled her shirt closed, Scorpius was a bit milk drunk and slowly nodding off in her arms. “Only several hundred more, but I think I’ve done enough damage in my first two hours in 1979.”
Motioning for them to head to the door, she slowly laid him in the cot and darkened the room before stepping out in the hall. She cast an alarm that would let her know when he woke, and followed James and Sirius down to the next landing.
“I noticed you only have muggle paintings on the walls. Why aren’t there any portraits?” Sirius asked, eyeing a Monét that hung nearby.
His question caught her off guard. Did they not know? “Dumbledore used portraits as spies for decades. He used them on friend and foe alike. It may have made us a bit paranoid. The only place where we allowed portraits was in the informal sitting room on the first floor, and even then they were strategically placed to not see the hall and charmed to not hear anything beyond that room.”
“Surely not!” James called, clearly aghast, leading the way downstairs, his head turning from side to side assessing the paintings that hung along the way.
“I believe he meant well, but like Minerva’s letter said, he was not particularly skilled in strategy or open to other perspectives.” On impulse, she laced her fingers with Sirius’ and gave two quick squeezes, only letting go after he locked eyes with her. “He was so confident that his way of thinking was correct, and anyone who challenged it was a problem. The man is brilliant, of course, but not infallible. Pride is the downfall of many great men.”
His grey eyes searched hers while she spoke, clearly listening carefully. He absorbed the information for a moment, then his jaw clenched and he gave one sharp nod before gesturing for her to proceed down the stairs.
Upon entering the kitchen she spotted Walburga still stunned on the floor and made her way over. Teddy was giggling and clapping his hands cheerfully saying “Mmmmuh mmmuh” over and over with strawberry compote and whipped cream all over his face.
“So close, darling! I know you will have it soon!” She smiled at him, her heart swelling at his attempts to say her name.
Narcissa looked thrilled and nodded at him in encouragement. “Well done, smart boy! Once you get ‘mama’ down, you will be one step closer to ‘grandma,’ little lion.”
“And you have no issue being a grandmother before you become a mother, Cissy?” Sirius asked, taking a seat next to Lucius as James had snagged the seat closest to Teddy.
The blonde witch laughed a happy carefree laugh that had her husband looking up from his paperwork. “Not at all. I really get the best of both worlds. I will be a grandmother now, then a mother, and eventually a grandmother again when my children have children. And with Hermione here now, I technically have a daughter.”
“Quite the boon for both of our Houses, it seems,” Lucius said dryly, turning to look at her as she crouched over Walburga. “It might be best that you have come to take the reins of House Black now. Orion hasn’t managed the affairs in quite some time, and his wife seems to be taking advantage of that, spending an obscene amount of galleons each month on nonsense while neglecting the responsibilities. I trust you know how to manage the estate.” He tapped the ledgers in front of him for emphasis.
Hermione rolled her eyes at his superior tone. “Indeed, you are the one who taught me. And those of House Malfoy, which are a nightmare in my time. Be sure to cut business ties with Rodolphus and Rabastan as soon as your father hands over the accounts, and read the fine print. House Lestrange would have gone bankrupt after the old Lord Lestrange died if they hadn’t been skimming a bit off the top in all their dealings and pledging other Houses to monthly stipends to support the Dark Lord’s lifestyle. How the pure blood elite fell for his less than half-blooded scam, I will never understand.”
She wasn’t sure which bit was causing distress, but it was clear from the looks on their faces that it had been shocking. Once again, she had inadvertently revealed too much information. She wanted to kick herself.
“Please do explain how someone is less than half-blooded,” Lucius prompted, grimacing and rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache coming on.
Hermione stood to walk to the table and sat next to Narcissa, then laced her fingers on the table top. “You really don’t know?”
“Evidently not,” he drawled.
“Have you never wondered why there is no Riddle Manor? No Riddle vaults at Gringotts? No ancestral magic to stake his claim on?” They all just looked at her like she had traded heads with a flobberworm, so she continued. “Right. Well, old Tank Nott surely knows and is covering it up if it’s not in the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”
“Tom Riddle is the son of Merope Gaunt and a handsome muggle Lord from the village of Little Hangleton, Thomas Riddle Sr. House Gaunt is descended from Salazar Slytherin himself, as you all likely know. They infamously inbred themselves into extinction, and are often referenced as a cautionary tale as their children become increasingly less magical, disfigured, and sickly. Poor Merope fancied Tom Riddle and slipped him a love potion, he then whisked her away from the Gaunt shack, married her, and conceived a child with her. She eventually became convinced their love was real and stopped giving him the love potion. The man immediately abandoned her and left her ill, destitute, and alone to give birth to their child in a muggle women’s shelter in London. Although she had a few bits of magic here and there, it never fully manifested, meaning Merope was technically a squib. Birthing a magical child in her deteriorated state took her life.”
Finishing the tale, she looked at the four pure bloods sitting about the table, noting they all looked like they had seen a ghost. A long silence followed.
Mercifully, Sirius spoke first. “A squib mother and muggle father who rejected him led to that hellhole of a future you escaped from? Well, fuck me, I’ve heard of daddy issues, but this is beyond the pale.”
She hmmm’d and nodded in confirmation. “Over compensated a bit, if you ask me.”
James let out a sharp laugh. “A bit? Understatement of the bleeding century, Hermione.”
“I want to be sure I understand this as clearly as possible,” Lucius said through gritted teeth. “You are certain his mother was a squib?”
“Without a doubt. There was a spark, but nothing more. She wasn’t magical enough to be registered to attend Hogwarts at the time of her birth,” Hermione said confidently. “You can check the ministry archives yourself, if you’d like.”
“And everything our parents' generation believes in, is a lie?” He asked sharply.
At that she shrugged. “More or less. There will always be blood supremacy in our culture, but basic magical theory disproves most of it. I am muggle-born, and have been registered for Hogwarts since my birth, also available in the archives, well it will be in a few months. Anyway. Magic chose me, just like it did all of you, fusing with my soul to create my magical core. No infant stole magic and forced itself to be registered for a magical education. In my timeline they began confiscating wands people purchased at age 11, saying the witch or wizard stole that magic. But obviously magic doesn’t reside inside of a wand. And they would never have been in Diagon Alley buying a wand in the first place if they weren’t magical. None of it is logical.”
Narcissa reached out and clutched her hand. “And we all die for these lies?”
“Yes.” Hermione nodded. “Ties to the old ways and ancestral magic used to be the foundation of blood supremacy, not the alleged cleanliness of blood, but the blood magic that was performed to connect to the ancestral magic. This is why the Gaunts were viewed as extremists, and why Draco and Lucius started digging into the old ways, attempting to enlighten other ancient Houses, but it was too late. The fact that Voldemort believed any of that in the first place should have been proof that he was no high born Lord.”
“My mum says that most of the posh society folks pushed back against the old ways when she was a girl because ancient magic prefers witches,” James said thoughtfully. “They claimed it was undignified.”
Lucius looked to James and nodded, giving Hermione another wave of deja vu. “Indeed, it does prefer witches. I know I’m certainly not the only one who can feel that magic rolling off this one.” He gestured towards her dismissively. “Your mother is a witch of House Black as well, a House infamous for its formidable witches. Imagine if she would have been given a touch of authority and unfettered access to the ancestral magic.”
“She could rule the world,” Sirius said with a far off look, then brightened as if he had an idea. “Suppose that’s why only Draco and myself could heal her arm. Cissy and Andromeda couldn’t fully access the ancestral magic. I bet Reg could heal it too.”
Hermione bolted up and grabbed her beaded bag, wandlessly summoning the Black Grimoires, then began frantically flipping pages. “Let’s change it then! Give witches access. Not Walburga, obviously, and Bellatrix can fuck right off, but Narcissa, Andromeda, and Dorea for starters. Perhaps Druella, if she’d like. Then convince other Houses to reconnect with the old ways and restore power to their witches. Make it trendy or fashionable from my time to do so. Or better yet say it’s obscene and cruel in my time for Houses to deny their witches access, and judge naysayers mercilessly. Your lot responds better to shame and peer pressure.” She found the page she was looking for and read it several times to be sure, then pivoted to her left. “Narcissa, do you still have your Black family ring?”
True excitement sparked in her sharp blue eyes, and in two flashes of green flames and a few minutes later, Narcissa had retrieved her Black family ring from Malfoy Manor and was now racing up the stairs behind Hermione, heading for the study. Lucius, James carrying Teddy, and Sirius on their heels.
With a flick of her wand, Hermione cleared the ancient desk, stacking her notes neatly to the side, leaving only her Draco blade, then shoved the open Grimoire onto it. She read the passage twice more, until she felt confident, then sidled up to desk. “Which hand is your wand hand?”
“Right.”
“Perfect. Stand just opposite me, the rune in the middle. Wonderful. Left hand and the ring, please.” Hermione held out her hand expectantly. The ring was similar to her Malfoy signet ring, but featured an etched star with a sapphire in the middle instead of an initial. “Ready?”
When Narcissa nodded eagerly, Hermione reached for the blade and sliced diagonally across her own left palm. “This was Draco’s. You commissioned it for him when he claimed House Black. He would be so happy to see it used to give you full access to magic that is rightfully yours,” she said softly, then reached for the pale left hand in front of her, slicing it in the same direction.
Looking up she saw Narcissa was smiling with tears trailing down her cheeks, and she could feel the victorious smile pulling across her own face. She placed the ring in the center of the rune, and clasped their bloody hands, letting them bleed freely over the ring and desk, seeping into the carved grooves of the Black family rune. She placed the tip of her wand to the rune with her right hand and a heavy wave of magic pulsed through the room.
“I, Lady Hermione Jean Malfoy-Black, rightful Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black bestow onto Narcissa Druella Malfoy her full and unencumbered power that is her birthright as a witch of our Most Ancient House.”
Magic began to whip around the witches as if it were gale force winds.
“Do you, Narcissa Druella Malfoy, swear to honor this House in all your actions?”
“I do,” Narcissa said clearly, and bolts of lightning began to strike out from the rune.
“Do you, Narcissa Druella Malfoy, swear to protect the future descendants of this House with your life?”
“I do.” Narcissa’s eyes glowed white as lightning strikes fired rapidly between them. By the expressions of the wizards behind her, hers were doing the same.
“Do you, Narcissa Druella Malfoy, swear to wield this magic in good faith, never yielding it to another?”
“I do.” Tracks of glowing, white hot magic shot up their arms and into their chests. She could feel it right behind her sternum, in her magical core.
Hermione holstered her wand and plucked up the dainty, blood soaked, signet ring, and positioned it in front of the middle finger of Narcissa’s right hand.
“By my authority, I extend to you the Noble and Most Ancient gift, that is the magic of House Black.”
When she slid the ring onto her finger, magic exploded between them, their bodies absorbing it, making her tingle all over. And in a flash, Narcissa crawled over the desk and pulled Hermione into a fierce hug, kneeling above the bloody rune, kissing her cheeks and laughing through tears.
“You beautiful, brilliant girl!” She squealed, not caring that they were both smeared in blood as she hugged her tightly. “Today may be the best day of my life, Hermione. You have given me so much.”
“I'm so glad!” She squeezed her back, tears overflowing now, “that’s all Draco wanted for us.”
Hermione pulled back abruptly, feeling a presence moving up the stairs. “Shit! We woke Walburga!”
Releasing Narcissa, who was still kneeling on the desk, she darted past the three wizards and a baby, who all turned their heads somewhat comically to watch her pass. Pulling her wand, she reached up to tap the crown of her head, completely disillusioning herself, and stepped out into the hall. She heard one of the men let out a low whistle, sounding a bit impressed, while another deep baritone chuckled softly.
As soon as Walburga’s scowling face turned onto the landing and up the closest flight of stairs, Hermione pressed herself against the wall. Once the hateful witch was close enough, she hit her with another silent stunner, and gently guided her to the floor, preventing her from tumbling down the steps. She tapped her head again and cancelled the disillusionment, then headed back to the study, levitating the unconscious witch behind her. James and Sirius hadn’t moved, but Lucius was cupping Narcissa’s face, sharing private words and kissing her gently.
“That was anticlimactic,” Sirius said with a frown. “I was hoping for something a bit more explosive, some insults, anything really. Not 15 seconds of silence.”
“A few hours with you, and I have realized we have been doing war wrong this whole time. You really are quite scary, or perhaps all the blood is making it seem worse than it actually is,” James added, his eyes wide with shock while Teddy clapped for her.
“At least someone is appreciative of my work,” she reached ruffling his curls as she passed. “Expecto Patronum!”
For the second time that morning her silvery otter twisted into existence, swimming around her merrily. “Can you go upstairs and ask Regulus to come to the study, please.”
The otter tumbled cheerfully head over tail then popped out of existence.
“And the surprises never seem to end,” Lucius said flippantly, but there was a real smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“You will have your very own Patronus one day, and you will be pleased to know that it was not a peacock. It took a while to teach you, but Draco and Narcissa picked it up fairly quickly.” Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, seeing if he would rise to the bait. Unfortunately he did not, but instead pursed his lips and turned back to heal his wife’s palm.
“Let me,” Sirius said softly, cupping her left hand gently as he performed the charm. His soft touch sent sparks up her arm, making her feel flushed. She couldn’t look him in the eye, so she stared at her palm instead.
Just as he finished, Regulus stomped into the room. “What in the bleeding hell was that?”
“An otter,” she said matter of factly. “Now, how much of Walburga's memory do you want me to alter? If she weren’t your mum I would Obliviate the entire existence of magic from her mind. Tell me your preferences now, or she will be a plain, stiff, society wife with no personality, forever.”
“Can you add some guilt over being a shit mother? Make her realize blood supremacy is a lie?” Sirius mused.
“Please be serious, brother,” Regulus stated, abruptly stopped, then the brothers spoke at the same time.
“Don’t—”
“But I’m always Sirius.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Charming. Legitimate requests only.”
Regulus scrubbed his face aggressively. “I don’t know. Make her nicer? Perhaps take some venom out of everything she says?”
“Understood.” She crouched next to Walburga Black, and placed her wand against her temple, focused on their cover story. “Obliviate!”