House: Gryffindor
Category: Bonus
Prompt: What if Hermione was a Pureblood
Word Count: 2259
Beta: Kurotsuba Thanks Tsu!
"I've got it all planned out, 'Mione," Ron rambled to his distracted audience.
The war had finally ended and good had triumphed over evil. Harry Potter defeated Voldemort in the Battle of Hogwarts, using his own arrogance against him. Hermione thought that he had proven once and for all that a person's blood was inconsequential to their potential in this world. Sadly, not a week after the battle she was proven incorrect in that assumption when she was called into the Ministry of Magic to probate a will.
-One week earlier-
Hermione was pulled from her quiet breakfast at the Burrow when a majestic eagle owl swooped in the open door. She had been using her morning quiet time to make plans to travel to Australia and restore her parents' memories. She hardly had a moment to herself since the dust had settled. Between funeral after funeral and dodging the media vultures, Hermione found it hard to breathe. She'd taken to waking up at dawn to simply have an hour of calm solitude.
Sighing, Hermione reached to relieve the owl of its letter. She assumed it was another letter of condolences for the Weasley family or an unsolicited marriage proposal for Harry. It was a surprise to find the envelope addressed to her.
Curious, she slit open the envelope with a butter knife and withdrew a single sheet of parchment that resembled a form letter.
Miss Hermione Jean Granger
Your presence is required at The Ministry of Magic at 10 o'clock this morning. Come alone.
Sincerely,
Kingsley Shacklebolt
Hermione noticed a small handwritten note at the bottom of the page.
Hermione,
I'm sorry that this is so formal. I'll explain everything once you arrive. I will be by your side throughout this whole ordeal. You are not alone.
-Kingsley
Hermione took a ragged breath. She had no idea what this could be about, but she knew from Kingsley's personalized message that she probably wasn't going to like it.
She rose from the breakfast table and took a plate and mug to the sink. She washed the dishes the muggle way, relishing the availability of hot running water. Her year on the run with the boys made her value the little pleasures like a warm tap.
"Hermione, dear, is that you?" asked Molly as she entered the room.
The Weasley matriarch was a pillar of strength in the last week, but Hermione saw the stress and sadness that existed right below the surface. The woman had just done what no parent should ever have to do- bury their child. And yet she somehow remained standing despite the crushing weight of the loss.
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley." Hermione smiled at the woman who had taken her in as one of her own. "I'm just finishing up in here. I've got to head into London today. Can I bring you back anything?"
"No, dear. Arthur is heading to Diagon Alley after work. He's going to check in on the…" she trailed off. Clearing her throat, she continued, "He's going to see George."
Hermione wrapped her arms around Molly. "I'm sure George will be glad for the company."
The pair of witches separated as they heard the sounds from the other house residents beginning to wake up. Hermione excused herself to dress and pack her purple beaded bag for her trip to the Ministry.
An hour later, Hermione exited the floo into the Ministry atrium. She borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak to avoid being mobbed by well-wishers, journalists, and anyone else with an agenda. Hermione did not regret the role she had played in defeating Voldemort and ending the Second Wizarding War- but she hadn't her moniker of "The Brains of the Golden Trio" and she wasn't ready to face the crowds.
Hermione checked her watch. She'd arrived nearly two hours early, but she planned on heading up to Kingsley's office and finding a nice quiet place to read her Australia pamphlets.
She hustled through the crowded atrium, dodging and weaving around the unsuspecting wizards. Fortunately, when she entered the lifts she spotted Kingsley's secretary and followed the witch to the office. Quickly locating a comfortable chair, she removed a pamphlet from her beaded bag and started contemplating the merits of taking a portkey into Melbourne instead of Sydney.
"I should have known that you'd arrive early, Hermione," boomed the voice of Acting Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Hermione jumped and whipped off the invisibility cloak. "How'd you know I was here, Kingsley?"
He smiled. "You have a habit of humming the Hogwarts School Song when you are reading. I noticed a few years ago back at Grimmauld Place before Order meetings."
Hermione blushed and smiled sheepishly. "You caught me. But now that you know I'm here, can you tell me what this is all about? Or do I have to wait until the appointment hour."
Hermione noticed the humor leave Kingsley's eyes as his smile became sad. "It's probably a good thing that you're so early. This is going to take a while. Come with me." He gestured into his personal office and Hermione followed.
She declined his offer of a cup of tea and asked, "What's going on?"
He sighed. "As you know, we've been going through the wills and estates of those that died in the war."
"Yes," Hermione nodded, "The Weasley family was called in for the reading of Fred's will. He left everything to George. Except for a toilet seat from the store which he devised to Peeves." Hermione was surprised when Kingsley did not even chuckle at that. Her heart dropped.
"The probate department has been sorting through documents from people from both sides. We found something that concerns you. It's best if you read it for yourself." He slid an aged piece of parchment across his desk and sat back while she read.
Last Will and Testament of Vincent Crabbe
I, Vincent Crabbe, being of sound mind do establish this will and testament to take effect upon the event of my natural death. I have created this will without duress or coercion.
Being predeceased by my darling wife, I leave all my money and property to my children and heirs.
To my son, Vincent Crabbe Jr, I leave Crabbe Manor and all the property contained within.
To my darling daughter, I leave my greatest regrets. I am not sure if you even live. But if you have survived beyond my death, I bequeath to you Crabbe Cottage and all the property contained within and the contents of my Gringotts vaults.
If either child predeceases me, the surviving child takes the entire estate.
Dated: Twenty-Ninth of June, Nineteen Hundred and Ninety-Five
Signed: Vincent Crabbe
"Crabbe had a sister?" mused Hermione. "I don't recall her at Hogwarts."
"She was-" Kingsley started.
Hermione interrupted, "-What does this have to do with me?"
Kingsley sighed, "Read this as well." He slid another parchment towards Hermione.
My darling daughter,
As per our most ancient laws and by blood oath at your birth, you are bound to participate in The Matrimonial Games if you are unwed at the time of my death.
I wished to spare you this, but it is the lesser of two evils. When The Dark Lord found out that my loving wife was pregnant with twins, he demanded that any girl child born would be his bride. I undertook the blood oath to spare you the dishonor of being the bride of a half-blood.
I've known all along that Lord Voldemort is not the pure-blood that many believe he is. I've pledged him my service because he wishes to rid the world of mudbloods and place pureblood wizards into their proper place in society. But I will not see my bloodline sullied by his union with my child.
I apologize for sticking you in the muggle orphanage. It was the only place that I could ensure that The Dark Lord could not find you. I regret the horrors you must have suffered in the hands of those muggles. But now, upon my death, you are bound to take your place in society as the pureblood heiress of the House of Crabbe. My beautiful Hermione.
Hermione felt her heart pounding in her chest. Her ears felt like she had been suddenly plunged into ice water. "What? How? I can't be me. I know Hermione isn't that common of a name, but it has to be someone else. No, no, no, no." She shook her head rapidly.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Kingsley said gently, "But you are the daughter of Vincent Crabbe Sr. The blood oath is on file here in the Department of Mysteries. After we discovered the will, we consulted the blood oath records. You were born Hermione Alara Crabbe. There is no mistake."
Hermione began to hyperventilate. "What - does - this mean?" she struggled to speak.
"Please Hermione, have a sip of tea. I thought you might need a calming draught so I brought some in."
She greedily sucked down the warm beverage and immediately felt the effect. Her pulse slowed and her head cleared. When her breathing returned to normal, she croaked, "What's going on Kingsley? What do I do? Crabbe was killed in the Room of Requirement during the battle. Oh god. I watched my brother be engulfed by fiendfyre. He tried to kill me. My brother tried to kill me."
"Hermione," Kingsley patted her shoulder, "He didn't know you were his sister."
"That doesn't matter!" she yelled. "My brother was still a murderer. He wanted me dead because I'm a mudblood." She paused. "But I'm not. I'm pureblood? What am I?"
"You're Hermione. The brightest witch of her age. Defender of the downtrodden and repressed." She liked that moniker much better than 'The Brains of the Golden Trio'. "Who are you has not changed. But unfortunately, you have new responsibilities thrust upon you because of the blood oath."
"What does that mean?"
"When you were born, your father spilled a small amount of your blood to form an oath. The oath requires that you participate in an ancient marriage ritual called The Matrimonial Games. All the eligible male heirs of pureblood houses may compete for your hand in marriage."
"NO!" Hermione declared. "That's horrible. The woman is just some prize to be won. I won't do it! I won't!"
"No one can force you to participate Hermione," Kingsley said. "But if you do not, you cannot inherit-"
"-I don't care about any of the Crabbe fortune! I don't want it. You can have it. Turn it into a Ministry vacation house for all I care."
"You cannot inherit," he continued as though she hadn't interrupted, "and you cannot marry in our world. The blood oath ensures that you cannot bond with a wizard outside of The Games."
"So I'll marry a muggle. Or live in sin with whomever I choose. That doesn't matter to me."
"You'll also be unable to have children."
"So I'll adopt! There are plenty of orphans out there who need a good home."
"Hermione," Kingsley looked like he was going to cry, "If you do not participate in The Matrimonial Games, you will be cast of the wizarding world and have your memories obliviated."
Hermione's ranting stopped. "What? Kingsley, how could you?"
"I won't have a choice, Hermione. The blood oath is ancient magic. It can't be undone and the consequences are absolute. I'm sorry but you must go through with The Games and marry a pureblood wizard, or leave the magical world forever."
Hermione felt a solitary tear trickle down her cheek. "What am I going to do, Kingsley?"
"I don't know, Hermione. I can't make this decision for you. But I will support you no matter what you decide."
-Present day-
"Like I was saying, 'Mione," Ron continued, not noticing that Hermione's head was elsewhere. "You'll go back to Hogwarts and finish up with your NEWTs. Then you can join Harry and me at the Ministry. The Golden Trio will be reunited once more. We're going to take the world by storm. Then in a few years, we can get married, and Harry and Gin can get married, and our kids can all go to Hogwarts together and start the new generation of adventures."
"That's wonderful, Ron," Hermione said with false cheerfulness. "I've got to pop by the ministry for a little while." She stood up off the porch swing where they had been cuddling. She gave him a quick kiss and left quickly "Goodbye," she whispered into the wind as she walked away.
"I take it you've made your decision?" Kingsley said as she entered his office.
Hermione nodded. "I have. I can't be forced into participating in something so archaic. It's not who I am. It's not what I fought for."
"I understand," Kingsley nodded sadly. "Can I do anything for you?"
"Maybe send me to Australia? I'd like to find Monica and Wendell Wilkins."
"I'll see to it, Hermione. If I could spare you this, I would."
"I know, Kingsley. I know." Hermione sniffled back the tears that threatened to fall. "Can you give these letters to Harry, Ron, and the Weasleys? They deserve to know and I couldn't force myself to tell them."
"Of course, Hermione." He pulled her in for a tight hug and she let the sobs overtake her.
"Obliviate me."
"Come inside, Jeannie! Dinner's ready!"
"Coming, Mum," called a curly-headed brunette. She slowed the porch swing before jumping off and racing into the Wilkins's home.