A/N: Just a quick note to tell you four things. First, I have changed my name from lavonnallama to La-Matrona, and I hope you're not too confused by that. My name has also changed on AO3 to La_Matrona, and on Tumblr to La-Matrona. Second, I continue to be astounded by your kind reviews, and appreciative of all the people who take the time to enjoy this story with me. You rock! Third, the explanation of bonds you see here is taken pretty much directly from Shayalonnie's "The Debt of Time", which is a marvelous, epic fanfiction with which I am obsessed. This was done with Shayalonnie's permission, and I am exceedingly grateful to her. Fourth, oblivionbaby and shayalonnie are still the very best beta and alpha I could ever ask for.
Whittington Hospital, Islington
9 August 1998
The little exam room they sat in was cold and sterile with little more than a hospital bed, a monitor, and a cart filled with electronic equipment Harry wasn't really sure the purposes of. The Dursleys had never taken him to a hospital before. The one time he had come home from school with a nose he had been sure was broken—considering it had been bent at a funny angle—his aunt had chided him for bleeding on her floor and sent him to his cupboard with a roll of toilet paper to stop the bleeding. Thankfully, the nose had healed miraculously overnight, a boon, he realized now, that had been his accidental magic manifesting itself. Harry's only real experience with medical care had been in the magical world, and so, as he sat beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, a warm bundle in his arms, he felt his stomach tie itself into knots.
A knock at the door sounded and Harry startled, his back straightening as he watched the heavy door swing inward and a woman in a white coat come into the room, still looking down at a chart in her hands.
"Confundus," Harry said beneath his breath, his wand now trained expertly at the grey haired woman. He had done the same to the nurse at the admitting desk when no one had been looking, and it had worked wonders for allowing them to avoid registering or having to wait for a room. He only hoped it worked as well a second time.
"Doctor," he said after stowing his wand. His voice caught the woman's attention as she struggled to focus her eyes, and after several seconds, her gaze landed on him.
"Um, hello," she said, her expression close to vacant.
"Would you like to begin your examination now?" Harry prompted the woman carefully, aware that all he really needed to do in this situation was make suggestions to the confunded doctor. Her mind would do the rest, supplying information it thought it needed to connect dots and draw a conclusion that would be to his advantage.
"Examination? Why yes. I suppose I ought to. Hold out your arm."
"Not me," Harry said, reaching with one hand to uncover the sleeping child in his arms, exposing her face and bare shoulders from beneath his black cloak. "Her."
"Of course," the doctor nodded, blinking several times as if to clear a fog from her vision and setting her clipboard down before reaching for the little girl. Harry flinched, his arm tightening instinctively around her as he turned his body just enough to block the woman's access.
Just then, the door swung open once more, revealing a bushy haired brunette in a jumper and denim trousers. Her arms were full with two heavy laden paper grocery bags that she lowered just slightly so that she could take stock of the room she had entered.
"You'll have to let her closer than that, you know," Hermione said, stepping neatly around the doctor and setting her load onto the bed beside him. She held out her arms then, and Harry knew what she wanted. He swallowed and looked down at the black haired baby he held, arguing within himself as he considered his options. He knew Hermione, knew she would do nothing to harm the girl… but a very real part of him wanted nothing more than to keep the baby with him and protect her from everything in the world. He didn't think he could bear to see her crying the way she had in that filthy crib ever again.
He cleared his throat and met Hermione's eyes, nodding once and lifting Delphini slightly in his arms. He gave Hermione enough room to scoop the girl up, which she did before passing her carefully to the doctor. "You were going to examine her for any injuries," she said, and the doctor nodded amiably.
Harry watched as the older woman conducted the exam, letting the baby sleep for as long as possible before waking her to check her eyes, hearing, and throat. He managed to watch the entire exam without cursing, which he personally thought was a great victory, especially given the fact that when the doctor had found scabs and open sores mixed ontop of a nasty bacterial diaper rash, he had seen red.
By the time the exam was finished and the doctor obliviated and sent on her way, Harry was nearly beside himself. The list she had given them of injuries to the child was extensive, and clear proof that she had been completely neglected, probably from the moment she had come into Rowle's care. Finger shaped bruises from rough handling, sores from sitting in her own shit for days at a time, dehydration and malnourishment from probably never being fed a fucking decent meal. They were lucky she wasn't showing signs of having contracted any contagions. He supposed he should be grateful for such small miracles.
"Oh, I could just kill her," Hermione hissed, warding the door behind the doctor and then turning to rummage through the bags she had set down upon her entry.
"What?" Harry looked up, confused. "The doctor didn't—"
"Not the doctor," Hermione spat. "Rowle, that loathsome excuse for a witch. I hope you eviscerated her, Harry. I really do. What kind of person leaves a baby all on its own and is still capable of sleeping at night? She's got to be reported!"
"No!" Harry said sharply. On his lap, Delphini began to cry, startled by his tone. "Dammit, I'm sorry," he said, lowering his voice and lifting her to rest against his shoulder as he patted her back. "Hush now, it's okay. I'm sorry I shouted." Her black curls brushed against his jawline, badly tangled and catching in his thick stubble.
Hermione watched them speculatively for a moment as Delphini calmed, before lifting several things out of one of the grocery bags and walking towards them.
"Look, I know you don't want the Ministry involved, but Harry, the woman could have killed a child. She can't be allowed to get away with it."
"Leave it alone, Hermione. I took care of Rowle."
Hermione pursed her lips but said nothing more, only offered him the objects she held in her hands. The first, Harry recognized as a disposable nappy, and the second as a packet of wet wipes. The third was a tube of some sort. He thought it looked rather like toothpaste but thought that couldn't be right.
"Hold these," she told him, setting them onto his lap beside Delphini, who grabbed for the tube and began turning it over in her hands curiously. Hermione returned to her bags, withdrawing a book from her beaded one and flipping through it for almost a full minute before returning to Harry's side. "Right. I bought this in Diagon Alley while I was out. It's a book of healing spells for pediatric mediwizards. It looks complicated, but I think I can handle them. The first few are simple enough at least."
Hermione looked back down at the book as if to double check something, and then raised her wand. She lowered it in an intricate pattern and uttered a spell Harry had never heard before as she did so. Harry looked down, watching in wonder as the bruises on Delphini's arms and legs faded into nothing within seconds. Hermione raised her wand again, this time jabbing it forward and whisking it from side to side quickly as she said something else in a language Harry was fairly certain was not Latin. The little girl whimpered only a little as she shifted forward in Harry's arms, and he looked down to see that the vicious looking sores on her bottom had been cleared, along with the raw rash, and poorly healed scabs.
"Blimey," he said, looking up in wonder at Hermione, "is there anything you can't do?"
She gave him a small smile and nodded once.
"Change diapers."
OoOoOoO
Number Twelve Grimmauld Place
9 August 1998
The fumes from the potion on the stove rose—sharp and acrid in the air—and swirled in tendrils of blue steam. Above the cauldron, Hermione stood with one hand on the stirring rod, moving her wrist in precise, clockwise motions. She kept the count under her breath, just loud enough that she could hear herself, but not loud enough that the man sitting behind her could make out the words. At last, she reached the fifty eighth turn and withdrew the rod, setting it aside carefully and leaning over the potion to catch its scent. It smelled just faintly of peppermint, which the potions text she had purchased had assured her was a sign that it had been brewed correctly.
"I think it's finished," she said, extinguishing the flame beneath the pewter cauldron and turning to face Harry behind her. He sat with his feet on the table, leaning back in one of the tall chairs which surrounded it, his arms still full of the little girl he had rescued earlier that morning. The little girl he had abducted.
Hermione sighed and took the nearest seat, settling into it heavily and leaning forward so that she could rest her elbows on the surface of the table. It had been an eventful morning. After she had healed Delphini's visible injuries, they had spent a great deal of time clothing and feeding the girl. Hermione hadn't been exactly sure what to give her, so she had gotten some of everything. In the end, the baby had been content with a full bottle of formula and a few bites of vegetable puree. By the time they had left the hospital to return to number twelve, the sun had been cresting the horizon and the sky had been painted in hues of blue, orange, and pale pink. They had walked as quickly as possible to Grimmauld Place, disillusioning themselves as they walked through the square in case anyone was there who might recognize them. The last thing either of them wanted was to be seen carrying a sleeping infant into the house. There was no way they would be able to explain themselves at this point, and neither of them could really sweep an apparent kidnapping under the rug.
"What are you thinking?" Harry spoke softly from his spot near the fire. In the dim light, the flames cast an orange glow around him.
"Honestly?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah," answered Harry, sounding wary but determined.
She sighed again and leaned back to sit straight in her chair, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
"A little nervous that I'll be arrested, actually." Her confession seemed to amuse Harry. The corner of his mouth twisted up into a quick smile before settling back into a grim line. In his arms, Delphini stirred just enough to turn her head from one side to the other, her cheek still settled over Harry's heart in her sleep.
"I don't think that's how the Ministry would handle this," he said.
"An expert of child abduction, are you?"
"I mean, none of them batted an eye when Dumbledore had Hagrid pull me from my parent's cottage and then hid me away in the Muggle world."
"Oh, Harry," Hermione shook her head. "I think that was a little different. I'm sure the minister knew Dumbledore was taking you to your aunt's home."
"Are you? Well then, I feel a lot better about my childhood now that I know Fudge knew where I was the whole time. It makes not eating for a week loads better." He was glaring now, despite his hushed tone, and Hermione winced.
"You know that's not what I meant, Harry, but if you're looking for me to tell you I'm not concerned about the fact that you've kidnapped a baby, then I'm going to have to continue disappointing you."
"What the hell was I supposed to do, Hermione? You didn't see her. Was I supposed to just leave her there?"
"How dare you," Hermione whispered harshly, her hands clenched into fists now as her heart began to race. "I saw what was done to her. I healed her bruises and her sores. I emptied what was left of my pathetic savings account to make sure she was fed and clothed and healthy. I just spent two hours slaving over a potion to fix the malnourishment and dehydration that awful woman left her with. How dare you sit there, judging me as if I'm blind to the reality of her situation, as if I wouldn't have done the same bloody thing in your place."
Harry, looking mollified, tried to speak, but Hermione cut him off before he could.
"I am very sorry that my refusal to ignore the reality of the situation vexes you, but even if what you did was right, Harry, it still comes with a very real set of challenges and consequences! Do you think no one will question you about the baby you suddenly acquired? That you'll be able to stay hidden here for the next eighteen years without showing the world what we've done? Are you actually planning on keeping her?" She realized as she finished that her voice had grown louder, and she abruptly closed her mouth, pressing her lips together in a tight line and shaking her head before hiding her face in her hands. She felt as if she was going mad. Never before in her life had she imagined being complicit in something like this.
"I am," said Harry softly. Hermione looked up to see that he was studiously avoiding her gaze.
"You can't just keep her." She tried to keep her voice calm, reasonable, but Harry's eyes flashed all the same, and he looked up at her with a hard expression that he had never used on her before. She felt something in her gut sink.
"I can," he said. "I will. If you've got a problem with that, you're welcome to clear off."
"That isn't what I meant." Hermione felt suddenly exhausted and over-emotional, as if she might cry at any moment. She tried her best to stamp out the feeling before continuing. "I'm only saying you need a plan. People will find out what we've done unless we're careful."
"Are you going to tell them?" His jaw was set stubbornly and his arm had tightened around Delphini, who was, thankfully, still asleep.
"Of course I'm not," Hermione snapped, "And, frankly, I'm offended that you keep questioning my loyalty like that. I think I've done quite enough to prove myself to you tonight, Harry Potter." She stared pointedly across the table at him until he blinked, looking away in apparent shame before nodding once.
"Sorry," he said. "I just… I feel really protective. I don't know why."
Hermione nodded and felt the tension she had been holding in her shoulders fade away. As she watched the way that Harry seemed to orient himself around the child on his lap, she thought she might have an idea.
"She could have died, Hermione," he said, his voice barely more than audible in the dim kitchen. "She could have died, and no one would have been the wiser. Not the Malfoys, not the Ministry. She has no one… and I can't just hand her over and let the Ministry ruin her life. I know what Voldemort did, who Bellatrix was… but she's not them, and she doesn't deserve to have their stain on her. Can you imagine, growing up with everyone knowing you were his?"
"No." Hermione shook her head. "I can't.
"Fucking hell," Harry said, and Hermione's heart broke quietly as she watched his eyes squeeze shut as a few tears escaped. His free hand came up to cover his face as his shoulders shook. Hermione was on her feet in an instant, crossing the room to hug Harry where he sat. It was an awkward sort of embrace, with the baby between them, and yet, Hermione found that she did not mind the soft press of the sleeping girl's shoulder against her belly. She felt connected, in that moment, to the two orphans. The man and the child—both impacted unconscionably by Voldemort's legacy. She pressed her forehead to Harry's and tried her best to hold back her own tears as he spoke again, his breath hot on her face.
"I'm going to keep her safe, Hermione. No matter what. She'll grow up a Potter, and she won't ever have to face him the way I did. He'll be a name in a history book. I've got to keep her safe."
Did he know, she thought, how good he was? How perfect and kind and caring a man he had become despite everything he had endured? Did he realize that no other man she knew would even consider taking the responsibility he was demanding? "Okay," Hermione breathed at last, feeling his nose brush against hers as he continued to return her embrace. "We'll need a plan then. And I think I've got an idea of where to start."
OoOoOoO
The drawing room of number twelve doubled as a library, which suited Hermione just fine. She created her base of operations on the longer sofa, spreading her research materials out in front of her just as she had done in school. It was easier this way, with all the books she needed already open and waiting for her to glance in their direction. She knew Harry thought it was a chaotic way to do research, which was why he was currently sitting across the room with a stack of books beside him and a single volume open over his lap. His black hair was practically standing on end from the number of times he had run his hands through it in the last several hours, and his stubble had grown a shade darker. At his side, Delphini sat quietly on the sofa. She was holding a doll Hermione had transfigured from a dishtowel, and was obviously enraptured by it. Hermione wondered if she'd ever had one before.
She pushed the thought away and forced her gaze back to the copy of Keeping Your Magical Family Pure in front of her. She had been sure she would find the answer she was looking for here, but the more she looked the more her hope dwindled. The volume was thick, leatherbound, and practically falling to pieces, but the title had lead her to believe that it would contain at least a reference to the subject they were seeking information on. Instead, all she had learned was how to enchant a family tree like the one on the wall behind her, and that she should summarily disown any family member who fraternized with undesirables, severing all familial magical bonds in the process. She sighed, but continued reading. Minutes later, she nearly crowed in delight.
"Oh-ho, there you are!" she exclaimed, picking the book up excitedly and rushing across the room toward Harry. "I found it!" She waved her wand and cleared the books from beside him, sinking down to sit in the spot they had occupied, thrusting the volume she held onto his lap. "Look here." She pointed at the heading of a section on the page and watched, satisfied, as Harry looked down.
"Magical Adoption Bonds: A Blemish on a Great House," he read aloud, and then looked up at Hermione, smiling for what she thought must be the first time since they had found Delphini. "Does it say how it's done?"
Hermione grinned in return and nodded. "It's simple, actually, but seems to require quite a bit of emotional investment to even be an option. The author goes on and on about how women should safeguard that they not grow too attached to children outside of their family. It's absolute nonsense, of course."
"Wouldn't want purebloods adopting someone with inferior magic," Harry said bitterly, and Hermione shook her head.
"No, actually," she corrected. "The argument here is for blood purity, because a magical adoption actually changes the magical signature of the child to match the family they are joining. There is no magical way to tell the child was ever not a member of the family. It's why the author, Shafiq, thought it was so insidious; it allows Muggle-borns to join very old Wizarding families, and to access their magical legacy, whatever that means."
"So short of a blood-test…"
"No one would be able to cast any sort of spell to discover the child's biological parentage. They would all come back with the names of the adoptive parents." Hermione smiled again as Harry seemed to relax at the news.
"Good," he said, and then looked back down at the book. "So how—"
"There are three parts to forming a magical familial bond," Hermione said, closing her eyes and reciting from memory. "Preparation; which is the formation of an emotional attachment between the two magical beings, Provocation; meaning an act which explicitly welcomes the bond, and Sealing." She opened her eyes. "That part will be a little harder, as it involves a ritual… in this case, it's legal paperwork issued by the Ministry acknowledging your bond and status as parent and child."
Harry's smile fell, and he leaned back against the sofa, tilting his face up to the ceiling as he let his eyes close. Hermione could see the stress etched across his forehead.
"I think you might have already accomplished the first two tasks," Hermione continued, trying her best to sound hopeful. "Its why you're feeling so protective right now. When you decided to remove her from that house…Well, I think your magic responded to the concern you've been feeling for her. I think taking her provoked the bond."
"Is there any way to tell?" Harry asked without opening his eyes.
Hermione looked back down at the book, shifting it from Harry's lap to her own and flipping back through its pages. She had read something earlier…
"Yes," she told him, "I think so. Do you want me to—"
"Please," Harry interrupted, looking her in the eye and nodding once.
"Right. I don't think this will hurt. Stay still." She took a deep breath and lifted her wand, eyes still trained on the pages of the book as she reread the incantation aloud. "Fac Tangibile Chirographum."
A thin glowing string slipped out of the tip of her wand, and Hermione directed it first towards Harry, and then Delphini. The little girl watched in apparent wonder as the light wrapped itself around her wrist twice before pulsing and then receding, just as it did from Harry.
"The book suggests this spell be used when disowning less desirable family members," Hermione explained as the string began to reshape itself, the light growing brighter as it twisted into a familiar shape before extinguishing itself.
"What the hell is that?" asked Harry, who was staring at the thin, translucent shape hanging in the air between him and Delphini. The baby reached for it, her hand passing through it before Harry could stop her.
"It's not dangerous," Hermione assured him.
"It looks like a wand," Harry said.
"It's just a stick. Or at least the imprint of one. If the bond between you were sealed it would be corporeal, and breaking it in two would sever the bond. Of course, only the people to which the bond apply are capable of touching the thing."
"So, what's it mean if it's not tangible?" Harry asked, collecting Delphini into his arms as he stared at the revolving imprint in the air suspiciously.
Hermione shrugged. "I'm not positive, but I'd wager it means your bond is waiting to be sealed through ritual, just as I thought. The book says the spell only works where a bond exists, so there's at least something there. Finite." The spell disappeared in a wisp of smoke, and Hermione put her wand back up the sleeve of her jumper.
"Great," said Harry, "so now all that's left is getting into the Ministry of Magic unseen and with a baby, imperiusing some clerk to sign off on the papers, and then obliviating them. Should be simple." The sarcasm in his tone was not lost on Hermione, who was now staring thoughtfully at the family tree on the wall across from them. She traced the lines connecting names with her eyes, finding as she did so the myriad scorch marks which marred the tapestry. Family was a funny thing, she thought. Some were as close knit as the Weasleys, while others barely spoke to one another. She doubted Walburga Black had ever known anything about the lives of those she had burned off of the tree after she had disowned them, and if they had joined the Muggle world—as squibbs and witches who married Muggles had sometimes done. She doubted anyone in the Wizarding world would even know their fate.
"Harry," she said softly, eyes now trained on the scorch mark at the very bottom of the tree. "How long has it been since you've seen the Dursleys?"