It was several hours later, the sun beginning to set and the temperature becoming crisp and whispering of fall, that Hermione and Draco re-entered the house. Their basket was full, a fine dusting of black soil clinging to fine hairs all the way up to each of their elbows. They skipped the still-closed dining room door, and the kitchen, where Molly could be heard tapping a wooden spoon off into a pot of something that smelled heavenly. Remus and Severus were seated in opposing wingback chairs in the parlor, and neither spoke, but rather observed as the newly formed couple moved as though they had been together forever. No words were exchanged, only the occasional glance at a closet door where the potions supplies were now stowed, or a nod of the chin at an item or tool.
Hermione was setting up an alembic while Draco started a flame under a cauldron and began picking leaves off rue for a Poisoning Solution and wormwood for Draught of Living Death, which they would need if she needed to operate on anyone in future. Severus watched them both carefully, as their former Potions Master, and frankly as someone interested in the craft, while Hermione stirred dittany leaves loosely into the bottom of the alembic to distill them down. Essence of Dittany was her favorite healing potion, quick, clean, efficient, even if it was painful to the person being healed. Snape has taken a deep inhale at one point, ready to scold Draco for nearly ruining his Draught of Living Death, something his godson only did being so long out of practice, when her delicate fingers had touched the back of his resting hand and with the slightest shake of her head and a look, he corrected his actions. They finished up their tasks separately, each bottling the results before stowing everything away in a separate cabinet across the parlor. It was at this moment that Severus stood, and his former pupils finally acknowledged he was even in the room,
"I am glad to see your fever has broken Draco. Perhaps now you could answer a question for me?"
They both nodded, clearly having gotten used to their own silent communication, before answering simultaneously,
"Yes, Severus?"
"Yes, Sir?"
Putting aside his amusement that Draco still occasionally called him 'sir' despite practically being a man in his own rights, Snape decided to be himself, and by that he meant to be direct and tactless by addressing Hermione:
"Miss Granger, I take it his wounds have closed?"
Her mouth hung open briefly and Draco smirked, but Severus wasn't interested in waiting for her to stop gawping, so he went for a more direct method by barking at her as Moody used to do,
"Granger! Have his wounds healed? Have yours? Do you ascertain my meaning, or is the insufferable know-it-all finally speechless?!"
Her jaw tightened, her nostrils flared, even her curls seemed to crackle with the electricity of her sudden ire. Severus spotted Draco flinching in his periphery a millisecond before a sharp crack sounded in his ears and a blinding heat spread across his cheek. When he opened his eyes to rebuke his former pupil, he found he didn't have to look down at her as usual and the room had gone eerily silent. Rather she was eye-level, and her skin had taken on an amber glow, and when her mouth opened, her words slithered out, somehow hissing viciously and booming in his ears at the same time,
"Don't you dare speak to me as Moody did! Do not presume that you can bark at me for results just because you are an impatient man! You are not without your own human foibles Severus Snape!"
Harry and Ron had entered the parlor to talk to Hermione about a question of Hogwarts history, but had stopped short at the sight of her slapping their former Potions Master. Having dealt with her temper int the past, both young men took a healthy step away from her, and when she suddenly appeared to grow taller and glow, Ron leaned to Harry's ear and whispered,
"I know she always seems to grow to me when she's on a tear, but it's not just me this time, right?"
Harry shook his head slightly, he'd never seen her actually grow. Their was a deafening rumble as if the house was tearing itself apart, her mouth was moving but he couldn't hear her words over the cacophony. The silence an instant later was deafening as he saw something he'd never seen in his life; Snape bowed and began speaking to Hermione with an odd tone of awe,
"Morrighan, forgive me. I merely meant to confirm my suspicion, not to anger you, or your consort, Bel."
Draco had apparently grown as well, holding Hermione's hand and now towering over his godfather, looking as though his skin was silk stretched over pure gold in bright sunlight. As soon as the apology was issued, Hermione and Malfoy seemed to shake their heads and wake up, slowly returning to normal. Harry and Ron were still standing well back, and now both their mouths hung open. Draco was the first to react, a smug smirk immediately sliding across his patrician features, his eyes somehow still brighter than usual.
"Hermione, I do believe Potty and Weasel make the least attractive fish yet, and I imagine they'll be looking for an explanation any moment now."
Hermione shot a glare in Draco's direction, and as the last of the amber light dissipated from her fingertips she gave a little point and wiggle towards the upper levels of the house. With that she sat down on her usual chaise, Draco coming to lean over the back of it with his fingertips brushing against her bare shoulders. She stared at them as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, as if waiting for one of them to ask the first question, as if it had been a normal fit of temper that she had now overcome.
Harry spoke first, chuckling slightly to himself,
"Hermione, have you been hanging out around gamma radiation? Would I not like you when you're angry?"
She smirked in response, and suddenly a procession of books slapped him upside the back of the head one after the other, in the same fashion as she would have had she been able to reach across the room. The tomes settled into the coffee table with quiet thuds and with a tiny gesture of turning a page from her, they opened, pages fluttering and rasping past one another to open to the appropriate places. Hermione spoke, and for some reason a shiver ran down the spine of every man in the room, facial expressions perplexed either by her tone or in confusion at the Muggle cultural reference:
"No Harry, I am not Bruce Banner, and while I appreciate the inside joke, perhaps we could all sit and discuss this? Ron, could you please go get your mother, as I would like her input on a few things?...We'll wait."
Draco was twirling a curl around his pointer finger when Molly bustled back in and sat, leaving Ron floundering for a minute before squeezing on to the settee between Harry and Remus before Hermione spoke again,
"I would like to explain, then I would prefer to answer only one question at a time, preferably without yelling and I would like to not lose my temper again," turning briefly to Snape as if an afterthought, "my apologies, Severus," before continuing at only the elder Order members in the room, "and then I have some more finite questions for you all."
Everyone nodded, and she recited what she knew: about the 'ailments', the prophesy, whether or not she thought it might influence the outcome of any 'final battle', she even admitted that the implication of being some kind of mortal representative of an ancient war goddess made her uncomfortable. She seemed worried that it reflected some sort of change to darkness within herself over the last tragic year or so. At this Remus interjected, putting up two fingers to politely get her attention, speaking in his warm soft tone,
"Hermione, sorry to interrupt, but I do feel the need to expound on something, as it might ease your mind: Morrighan is not a war goddess in the purest sense, but rather war as it affected land and sovereignty in the past. She is a protector above all else. The strong were blessed by her, rightful rulers, who had her preference in tribal or regional conflicts, and through her won their thrones. She is an arbiter of power, the personal goddess of leadership because without her approval, discreet or outright, kingdoms were lost and gained. She happily watched over the land rites, cattle blessings and sacrifices at Beltaine, tended to Year Kings, and sent her crows to pick the bones of the enemies of her favored rulers. War, yes, but only as needed."
Harry and Ron had tried to interrupt a few times, but Molly had discreetly cast a nonverbal 'Silencio' at them as soon as they'd sat down, and until she'd looked up to listen to Lupin, Hermione hadn't noticed. Now that she saw them twisting their lips and huffing at their inability to be heard did she point a finger and a 'Finite Incantatem' at them both. There was a moment more of gawking by the former teachers at her wandless magic but Ron seemed to catch on,
"She's been able to do the basics without a wand since fourth year, relax!" he shuffled in his seat for a moment before addressing her,
"Do you feel forced to like the Ferret, 'Mione? Because the way you described this prophesy thing, it didn't sound like you had a lot of choice, and Harry and I can get rid of him for you." Harry perked up, Hermione glared only slightly disapprovingly, and Draco growled under his breath at the implication that he was easily gotten rid of.
"Ronald Billius Weasley!" his mother had slapped the back of his head before anyone else could react, and somehow all the tension in the room shattered with it. When her peers were satisfied with their questions and her answers, and her tip about Hogwarts' defenses that they'd come in to ask in the first place, they wandered off to find dinner while the others stayed behind. Hermione turned to their former Potions Master first, because he seemed to know as much if not more than they did,
"Severus, none of the texts describe the timing of all this, only that we have been chosen, and we have to carry out the rites...Could you confirm whether or not Beltaine is the traditional timing for Sacred Marriage?"
It was Molly; however, who answered when Snape seemed to balk, unable to say for sure one way or the other,
"Sacred Marriage on Beltaine was normally reserved for Year Kings. An act of annual ritual, mostly symbolic, even the Year Kings were only actually sacrificed in times of hardship. The affliction you mentioned seemed to lay outside the usual annual cycle, an act of necessity, not ritual. Hermione, where is that history book that mentions it happening during The Great Burning?"
Directed to the book, Molly muttered to herself briefly, sliding her fingertip along a page,
"See it mentions here that during The Burning Times, a young man of the Black family was found to bear the marks, he was bound in the rite on Lammas," she paused to read further, furrowing her brow at the Latin, "it goes on to say that the later battles failed because the Black family rejected the marriage...the goddess' chosen envoy must not have been up to snuff for 'toujours pur'...The real trouble with these histories is that they all track the men involved, because the sudden injury is so visible, whereas a woman bleeding isn't out of the ordinary...as if a young lady would have spoken up about it then, or even now for that matter!"
Molly stood suddenly, wiping her hands on her kitchen apron, muttering about 'extra protein' and giving Hermione a pointed look that no man in the room caught. She was apparently due to talk to the Weasley matriarch in the kitchen later. Something about the mention of a woman's cycle in the same room as former students had Snape and Lupin both looking anywhere but at Hermione. Oh to hell with this nonsense, she thought. She peeked at Draco, wondering whether or not he seems flustered, but he just shrugged at her, nonplussed. She gave him a warm smile at that and walked towards the kitchen, ignoring the sensation of his eyes on her hips in motion again. Although, she realized, this time it filled her with a pleasant warmth instead of perturbation. She was sure the men would continue to discuss things as needed on their own, and she knew Draco would pass on any pertinent information, so she didn't see the point of staying in the room and making Snape and Lupin uncomfortable. Molly was waiting for her at the kitchen table, wringing her hands over the prospect of an uncomfortable conversation, and she was aware of it before ever entering the room. When she did enter the room, Mrs. Weasley launched into speaking, as if unsure she could get it all out if she was made to pause,
"Hermione, dear, I am sure you know what the rite entails, so we'll skip that part, but I did want to clarify a point: the book hadn't just mentioned the Black family rejecting the marriage, but also the child. It is a possibility with these things that you may about to be thrust into a situation that will change your life forever...I'm not saying motherhood isn't fulfilling, but if you're not ready, then we can give the plans you and the boys already had a try to beating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named...we can put off the Sacred Marriage...a last resort if you will...You know I think of you and Harry both as my own sometimes...I want to make sure that you're happy and you're not making this decision just under the influence...of, well...magic" There was a massive intake of air, and then seemingly holding her breath waiting for an answer. Hermione found herself smirking, not her deadly calm smirk, but a smirk of teasing, mutual affection, this woman who had acted as her mother long before the death of her parents, who had backed off while she grieved, but Hermione knew that Molly had been feeling insecure about her role as surrogate mother since then; since Hermione had essentially grown up and not allowed herself to be mothered any longer. She blushed, knowing that the other woman's nervous energy was at least partially her fault, in denying her fussing and caring, Molly must at least partially feel like she didn't have the right anymore to comment on her life choices. She was distracted however, another shift in the air had needled her in the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine,
"I have not decided yet, but we can talk more about it later, Tonks is at the door with an unconscious person."
