Author's Note:
Wow, I didn't expect the reviews I got, but they make me very, very happy!
This will probably update sporadically, but I have about eight chapters save up so far for all you lovely readers that will be posted at least once a week until I get some more writing done. Any questions you may have, feel free to ask, and I will answer to the best of my ability.
Please enjoy this next chapter,
-SOH
"You know, we've been wondering for years why we were always treated differently," Fred says after his fourth tumbler of gin. His eyes are glassy and dull.
"Bill and Charlie were old enough to remember," George adds. "But Percy was only a year or two old, and no one else was born..."
"Bill and Charlie always did their best to treat us well," his twin continues. "But the others- maybe they didn't know why we were different, but they knew..."
"What are we even supposed to call ourselves now?" It's almost a whine,the way George says it. "We're not Weasleys-"
"Never been, really."
"But if we use our real names-"
"You'll get tossed in Azkaban, most likely," Hermione finishes, and the pair look at her.
She rolls her eyes. "Obviously this was set up by someone with particularly strong influence. Can you think of anyone who has that type of power?"
George's eyes narrow. "Fucking Dumbledore!" He snarls, standing none too steadily. "He took away what we had, for what? A half-baked father and a blind mother? A home where they couldn't have afforded to keep one child, let alone seven? I-" he turns his face away, fury making it difficult to form words.
"George, come here." Despite the kindness in her eyes, it's an order, one he obeys.
Pulling him close, she allows him to rest his head on her shoulder, wrapping her arms around his thin frame. He's shaking slightly, but it only strengthens her resolve.
"Since the beginning of my- my Change, I've been researching," she starts. "I've been looking up what it means to be Dark, learning spells and- and beliefs..."
"We've been doing some reading, too," Fred admits, moving to Hermione's other side to rest his head like his brother. "It doesn't seem so bad, really."
"I think- I think we should see your mother and father," she admits. "Maybe not join the Death Eaters quite yet, but... I for one, am finding myself to be rather sympathetic to their beliefs involving Muggleborns."
"The- the bit about taking them early to learn Wizarding culture?" Fred smiles slightly into her shoulder. "You would."
Hermione smiles a bit, too. "I think we should just do the practical thing and send a letter explaining the situation," she says simply. "We'll tell them what's happened, and think on what to do next."
"Uncle Ignatius is still alive," George says softly. "Your Grandad."
"We can take you to his manor in the morning, after Mr. Blott comes," Fred adds. "He's still technically the Head of the Prewett family, but he's getting older. Most people pass on the title once they retire."
"And then we'll write a letter to Mr. Malfoy- he's certain to get it- with blood signatures from the pair of you," Hermione says. "We'll have to figure out an address they can contact us at."
"We have a flat in Knockturn we could maybe use-"
"Or that cottage we got in Derbyshire, if it's a bit safer for everyone-"
"We'll figure it out when we send the letter," Hermione interrupts. "But now, I think, we should all get some sleep. Would you mind me spending the night here?"
"We have a spare bedroom, if you like," George says.
"But we're quite comfortable here," Fred admits.
Hermione laughs lightly. "Well, I suppose we can stay a while longer," she says, conjuring up a blanket large enough for the three of them.
"Always knew you were the good sort," Fred murmurs, already dozing off.
"Lovely woman, really," George agrees.
In moments, they're all asleep.
-SOH-
Hermione wakes up quite suddenly to the sound of a gong.
"That'll be Mr. Blott," she groans as the twins stir, blinking sleep from their eyes.
The throbbing in her head tells her she's got a horrible hangover, but she doesn't want the gong to sound again, so she gets up as quickly as possible and yanks open the door.
Luna Lovegood peers up at her with a slight smile.
"You do look very nice, Hermione," she tells Hermione dreamily as she waltzes in. "I have hangover potions for the three of you. Borealis has a sudden case of dragon pox, and sent me over to handle the breaking of the Lestranges' glamours."
"Wha- why would Mr. Blott send you?" Hermione asks.
"He's been tutoring me over the last few years," Luna explains, handing over a murky blue mixture. "I'm hoping to get my mastery by the end of the summer." Slipping on a pair of thick pink goggles, she turns her attention to the twins.
"Well, it's very strong," she says, handing them their hangover potions. "Almost definitely Dumbledore's work."
"You- what?" Hermione stares, dumbstruck, at the little blonde.
"It's not well known that the Lovegoods are considered a Dark family," Luna tells her, drawing her wand. "Most people think we're a bit off because of the fact that most of us are Seers of some kind or another."
"That has to be a bit true, though," Fred says after swallowing his potion.
"Oh, it is," she admits happily. "But it doesn't make us any less dangerous than a Lestrange." Muttering under her breath, she moves her wand over the pair, letting silvery blue mist rain down on their heads.
It flickers like a bad television signal. The red hair disappears a moment to reveal black, then it goes red again. Their faces become more angular, their noses a bit sharper. Brown eyes go icy blue, then murky, then-
Then it all stops.
"Well, it seems you two got the best of the Black and Lestrange genes," Luna remarks, stepping back to look at her handiwork. "You two are rather handsome."
The twins- still identical- look at each other and gape.
"Damn-"
"And we thought-"
"We looked good before!"
"Should we call you by your proper names, then?" Hermione asks, smiling slightly.
Both pause.
"I suppose we should," the one that was Fred said.
"It's only proper," the one that was George agrees.
"Ladies, you may call me Orion Neptune Lestrange," says once-Fred.
"And I am Arcturus Mercury Lestrange," adds once-George.
"A pleasure to meet the pair of you," Hermione says with a proper, Pureblooded curtsy- or it would have been if she was wearing a dress.
"Reading does wonders," Luna says admiringly, looking at Hermione.
"It really does," Hermione agrees.
"I assume you'll be contacting the Lestranges, then?"
"We'll be sending a letter to Mr. Malfoy."
Luna nods serenely. "Then they'll have it by nightfall, if you send it after your visit to Mr. Prewett."
"How did you- Seer. Right." Hermione smiles. "Thank you for your help, Luna. Give Mr. Blott our best wishes."
"Of course. I'll see you soon, Hermione. Orion. Arcturus."
She slips out the door and leaves the three to themselves.
"She's quite the interesting little thing," Orion remarks.
"I've always liked her," Arcturus agrees. "Shall we go to Uncle Ignatius', then?"
"I think it would be best." The twins take Hermione by either arm. "And we're off!"
They disappear with a crack.
-SOH-
The manor is a beautiful thing, all carved stone and colorful trim. It's huge, really, and a bit gloomy, but an easy enough place to cheer up.
It also happens to be the only house in the whole valley, which is something she can appreciate.
The door opens the moment they reach it, and they are greeted by a house elf dressed in a flowered slip fashioned out of what looked to be an old set of curtains.
She curtsies deeply.
"I is called Sparkle, Mistress," she tells Hermione. "I is here to take you and Strange Masters to the Lord. He is waiting long time, Mistress," she adds, giving Hermione a disapproving look.
"I am very sorry to have kept him waiting," Hermione tells her. "I didn't know he was expecting me."
Sparkle relents. "I'm sure Lord doesn't mind. But please, Mistress and Masters, follow Sparkle."
She leads them through the dark manor onto the back porch, where a white-haired man sits alone by a small tea table, a book in his hands a cane across his knees.
"Sparkle brings the young Mistress and her friends, Lord."
"About damn time," he grunts, shutting his book with a snap and turning.
"Well, you seem strong, at least," he says, pale green eyes sharp on Hermione. "And boys! Finally figured out that horrid creature wasn't you mother?"
"Did everyone know?" Orion asks, a touch exasperated.
"Oh, most of the Old Lot Knows. We've just been sworn to secrecy- but now you know, so the contract is moot." Ignatius taps the table. "Have a seat. We'll talk."
The three obey and Sparkle serves everyone tea before disapparating with a loud crack.
"I'm happy that you came before I really started getting on in years," Ignatius admits as he sips his tea. "The Pureblood curse, you know. If we're the last of a line, we don't have the luxury of dying of old age."
"I read about that," Hermione tells him. "And I'm very happy I saved you the annoyance of having to kill yourself."
"Thoughtful girl," Ignatius says with a smile. "I knew you'd be perfect. Well, a few things before I hand over the title of Head of the Prewett House and subsequently die. One, as a granddaughter of a Black, I can almost guarantee that you will have at least one Animagus form- they have a knack for human transfiguration, the Blacks. Two, the Prewetts are known for their sense of fashion. I expect you to buy yourself some better clothes, or at least put on something from the family collection in your room. You're a Prewett, for Merlin's sake, not a Muggle. You're assets are liquid, so please, do something about... that." He flaps a hand at her frumpy sweater and jeans.
Hermione goes pink at that. "Yes, sir."
Ignatius smiles.
"You're a good girl. I can tell already." Grasping the heavy ruby ring on his index finger, he slips it off and reaches across the table to hand it to Hermione.
She takes it from him and slips it on, feeling the white gold shrink to fit her finger properly.
"Lovely," Ignatius murmurs. "Well then, take care of Sparkle, don't take drinks from strange men, and don't sign any marriage contracts with the Crabbes or the Goyles- part-troll half-breeds, the lot of them-" he cut of mid-sentence, mouth going slack and eyes rolling up in his head. His teacup fell from his hand.
There's a beat of silence.
"Well, looks like he's kicked it," Arcturus remarks. "Hermione?"
She stands.
"Sparkle," she calls.
There's a crack and Sparkle is standing before her.
"Yes, Lady?"
"If you could take care of the corpse," Hermione says. "A funeral should be dealt with as soon as possible. Orion, Arcturus, send a letter to Mr. Malfoy. Give him this address of Prewett Manor. I'm off to Gringotts to handle the paperwork and get my vault key."
"Get changed into something presentable before you go," Orion calls after her. "You're a Lady, now-"
"So you'll have to dress like one!" finishes Arcturus.
"I know!" She calls back. "Now write that letter, please!"
Chuckling, the twins settle down in their chairs and conjure up parchment and a pair of quills.
This was going to turn out a very interesting week.
