A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! I know y'all have been looking forward to seeing what happens to Hermione once she gets to Grimmauld Place...Regulus is really much more optimistic than he should be. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.
Thank you as always to Alassea Black for beta reading this!
Please let me know what you thought of chapter four and be on the lookout for chapter five soon!
Regulus's room seemed impossibly different in this time, even with the low light in the room, due to the late hour of the night. It was odd to see it uncovered by a thick layer of dust, with everything seeming so vibrant and alive. She was impressed with how neat it was - there seemed to be a place for everything. The emerald green walls actually seemed welcoming rather than oppressive, as she would have imagined.
She was tempted to walk over to the little collage of articles about Voldemort, but resisted, knowing that it would be an unwelcome intrusion on her new...friend's...space. Besides, as far as Regulus knew, she'd never been in his room before and he was unaware of her connection to Sirius or Grimmauld Place, aside from the fact that she knew Kreacher.
Looking at Regulus, Hermione caught him staring at her with a look of slight horror. He seemed to realize at the same time as she did that he had brought her back to his bedroom, and neither of them were blind to the undertone that it carried. Seeing the blush that was beginning to stain his cheeks, Hermione was suddenly reminded of just how young Regulus was. Her mind had created this version of him that he was some kind of powerful, crusading man, who decided enough was enough and sacrificed himself for the cause. Now, she wasn't so sure if that was the case.
Did he have any idea of what was really going to happen when he went into that cave? The note that he'd left for the Dark Lord was full of smug bravado and he'd written that he was certain of his demise, but had there been some childish part of him that was still confident he'd come back? He hadn't seemed too surprised or upset at having been revived from a certain death. In a way, it reminded her of the way that Harry was always running off without thinking the consequences of his actions through.
Regulus cleared his throat and Hermione blushed in response, realizing that she'd been staring at him in a rather unseemly way. As if he was some kind of animal waiting to be dissected.
He'd performed a drying charm on himself, though his clothes still remained filthy. Regulus held out his wand in offering to perform the same charm for her. "May I?" he asked, his voice a bit stiff.
Normally, Hermione would have recoiled at the idea of letting anyone do something for her that she was perfectly capable of. At the same time, she realized that she was in a very different time and a different culture. Furthermore, she was Regulus's guest and she certainly didn't want to offend the only friend that she currently had. Holding her arms out to her sides, she nodded in acquiescence.
Once she was dry, though, they had nothing to discuss other than the fact that he'd invited her to stay with him and there was conspicuously only one bed in the room. "I can find some pillows and some blankets for you to sleep on the floor between the bed and the window," he offered with a shrug of his arms. Perhaps seeing her look of abject horror - not offering her the bed was decidedly not the kind of manners that she'd expect a pureblood boy to have - he quickly tried to explain. "It's just that, I don't want my parents to know that you're here."
She remembered all of Sirius's complaints about his younger brother, about how he always wanted to please them just a bit too much, relishing the fact that he was the golden child, and was struck by how true that seemed to be in the moment. "Nonsense," Hermione responded, pulling out her wand. "I will just transfigure this into a cot." With the wave of her wand, one of the copious pillows on Regulus's bed had been converted into a comfortable looking bed.
Regulus was clearly surprised by her show of transfiguration, and from the way his jaw hung slightly open, he was impressed. "Wow, how did you do that? I was never very good at transfiguration, not like Sirius-"
Before he could complete his question, his door was being thrown open. "Regulus Arcturus Black, what in Merlin's name do you think you are doing?" A woman screeched from the open doorway, sweeping in.
Hermione recognized her voice immediately, though the woman in front of her seemed much younger than the woman from Walburga Black's portrait. She supposed that losing both your sons and your husband in a relatively short amount of time could age you horribly. Walburga Black was an attractive woman, her long blond hair flowing down her back in loose ringlets, though it was already starting to go grey in that stately way that only natural blondes could. Her eyes were dark and hard, holding no love for the anonymous woman standing in her son's room.
Orion Black towered behind her, his black hair apparently undisturbed by sleep. It was clear where both Sirius and Regulus had gotten their good looks, and he was obviously the more attractive member of the marriage. "Did you honestly think you could sneak some tart across the family wards and they wouldn't alert me?" he questioned, his voice snobbish and disappointed. "Explain yourself."
Regulus quickly deflated under their intense questioning. Hermione realized that he was not going to be able to come up with any kind of lie to appease his parents and decided to step in and help him out before he ruined her whole plan. Clearing her throat, she took half a step forward, blinking rapidly, trying to make her eyes tear up. "I am so sorry to intrude Lord and Lady Black," she apologized smoothly. "I was attacked and your son came to my rescue. Unfortunately, the thieves had taken everything I had on me, and Regulus was so kind to offer me a place to stay for just the evening." Lucky for Regulus, Hermione was very good at coming up with plausible sounding stories at the drop of the hat after sneaking around Hogwarts so much with Harry and Ron.
Walburga stepped forward, tightly wrapping herself with a robe that would have looked more in place on a seventeenth century Queen. "Regulus, is this true?" she asked softly, obviously wanting to believe the best of her son. "It would explain why you are so filthy," she sniffed.
Hermione's companion was only too happy to nod happily along. "Yes, mother," Regulus said, only too happy to elaborate on the ruse. "I was completing a task for the Dark Lord and I ran into a young woman being harassed by some filthy muggle. I felt it was only proper that I defend her honor."
Orion sneered at her, perhaps thinking that Hermione was rather weak that one perfectly capable witch couldn't fend off a couple of muggles. Hermione could agree that Regulus made her sound rather helpless, which did irk her, seeing as she'd been the one doing the rescuing. "Why didn't you use your wand, girl?"
"Oh, well the Statue of Secrecy says..." Hermione trailed off, thinking that it was a reason that she probably wouldn't have used her wand for.
That reasoning, however, did not sit well with Orion. "Piss on the Statue of Secrecy. We wizards should not be forced to hide our strengths from those filthy muggles," he groused, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
Walburga in turn gave her a more appraising look. Hermione wanted to blush, but forced herself not to wilt under the other woman's hard stare. "And just what is your name, young lady? I don't think that I've ever seen you at one of our society balls," she said sweetly, as though she were trying to coax Hermione into some kind of trap.
"My name is Hermione Dagworth-Granger," Hermione lied easily enough. "And I'm sure you wouldn't know me from any society balls. Until recently, I've been privately educated by my grandfather in Switzerland."
Suddenly, Walburga's face lit up, as though she'd just received the most wonderful news in the world. "I didn't realize that Hesperos had any sons!" she said gleefully, before remember the crucial detail. "Oh, and of course, Orion and I were both so sorry to hear of his passing."
Hermione ground her teeth together, trying to hide her annoyance with the other woman. "Yes, well, thank you for your condolences," she said, graciously. "And no, my grandfather never had any sons. Just my mother Theophilia."
Walburga made a little noise in her throat at the thought of Hermione having her mother's name. "But...well, then...I guess I just don't understand, were you born on the wrong side of the sheets?" Walburga questions, likely thinking that she was being very delicate with the matter, when really she was doing a spectacular job of bungling it. Had Hermione actually been born out of wedlock or if she actually cared about it, she was sure she would be rather annoyed.
"Mother thought that...the Dagworth-Granger name seemed to carry a bit more weight than my father's," Hermione explained, blushing prettily.
Orion made a little noise of agreement in the back of his throat. "Well, I would have to agree. The Bellchants aren't exactly known for being the brightest bunch," he quipped, apparently uncaring that he was insulting her dead father.
In truth, Hermione was in no way related to the Dagworth-Grangers, but Professor Slughorn's questioning on the matter the year prior had intrigued her enough to look into their family tree to see if they shared any common branches. She was thankful for that research now, seeing as she knew that Theophilia and her husband, Abelard Bellchant had no children at their untimely death in a 1968 skiing accident in the French Alps. With no living relatives, there would be no one to question Hermione's claimed ancestry. It was especially handy seeing as the Blacks took your bloodline quite seriously.
At hearing the Orion mention her supposed father's last name, Walburga did actually light up, a broad smile coming over her face. She crossed the room before wrapping one arm around Hermione's shoulders, not hiding the dismayed look at Hermione's dirty attire. "Oh you poor, poor thing. Of course, a nice pureblood girl like you could stay the night as our guest if you have nowhere else to stay," Walburga crooned.
"Thank you, Lady Black, for your generous offer," Hermione said, biting the inside of her mouth to keep from snapping at her. She wasn't blind to the fact that if her offhand spouting of good, pureblood family names that she was attaching herself to, she would not have gotten such an offer from a woman like Walburga.
"Regulus, you should know better than to just offer a young lady like Hermione a little cot on the floor. She will stay in the guest room of course," Walburga tutted. The brunette hated to admit it, but she did kind of enjoy the dressing down Regulus was getting now, seeing as he'd previously offered her a spot on the floor.
"Of course, mother," Regulus agreed, keeping his eyes on the floor in front of him. "I didn't want to wake you or father, seeing as it was such a late hour."
"Kreacher!" Walburga screeched, making Hermione wince from the pain of being so close to the loud noise.
With a pop, the little old house-elf was in the room with the rest of the occupants of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He still looked as ancient as he had the last time Hermione had seen him, but his eyes were much more clear, and he just seemed...more present. He looked at Hermione disdainfully, but no flash of recognition was clear in his eyes. However, when he noticed Regulus, he looked as if he'd seen a ghost. He looked as if he were about to say something until Walburga cut him off.
"Kreacher, please turn down the guest room for Miss Hermione. She will be staying with us until we can find her more suitable accommodation," Walburga cooed, before tightening her hold on Hermione's arm. "Come, Hermione, let's find you a suitable nightgown for you to wear."
Hermione cringed at the thought of wearing one of Walburga Black's sleeping gowns, but she had no choice other than to follow the woman. She gave Regulus one last panicked look before she was pulled from the room.
