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Disclaimer: As per usual, I do not own HP or anything related to HP. This flight of fancy is being undertaken for no monetary recompense.

Ch. 10

1:30pm, Sunday

Eighth Tower, Room #4

Harry and Ginny sat on Hermione's bed, watching their friend pace. Daphne, who'd just left the room, had quietly speculated that Hermione's sudden burst of energy might be related to the fact that her sleep had been devoid of her customary nightmares. She'd been restless, but hadn't woken up screaming for the past few nights. Since her glamour had been broken, in fact. Now, her two closest friends at school watched her progress back and forth across the room as they would a Quaffle being passed in a fast-paced Quidditch match.

"I don't know if I can do this." Hermione reached the wall and whipped around to

head in the other direction. "There's nothing I can research to make sense of this. Honestly, if it weren't happening to me, I'd say it was a crazy story made up by some mad reporter type! This is Rita Skeeter bizarre." She stopped at the opposite wall and turned around to make her way back down the room, ranting the entire time.

She continued pacing, venting her spleen until she wound down. For both Harry and Ginny, but especially Harry, her silence was more foreboding than her protestations. His feeling of trepidation trebled when she did deign to speak again.

"I may leave. "

"What?"

"No! You can't –"

Hermione cut short their protests with an imperious wave of her hand. "Stop. This is a decision I have to make on my own. But we can do the press conference. It'll be better to rip the sticking plaster off in one go."

Harry hesitated. "You won't say anything about leaving, though?"

"Honestly, Harry, do you think I'm stupid? Of course I'm not going to say anything to the press about it."

"Ah, Hermione, what exactly do you mean, 'you may leave'?" Ginny asked hesitantly.

Hermione's rigid spine seemed to melt at Ginny's question, and she settled herself between Harry and Ginny on the bed. "I just want it all over. The war, the dreams, the press. And now this." Harry put his arm around her and tugged her into the shelter of his body as Ginny took Hermione's hand and held it tightly.

"We'll be here for you, Hermione." He leaned his head against hers. "But you can't give up. You faced down trolls and giant snakes; this'll be over before you know it."

They sat that way for some time in silence, and Ginny only left when she got an urgent message about a fight in the seventh floor corridor, promising to return if she was needed.

After getting up to see Ginny out, Hermione turned to Harry, still seated on her bed. "I need to revise, Harry. Do you need some help? We've got that twenty-four inch parchment due for Bill next week."

His eyebrows shot up. "Defense? I think I've got that one, Hermione. Now if you wanted to help with Slughorn's assignment, then we can talk." They both smiled briefly as they thought back to their sixth year. "But you want time alone, don't you?"

She nodded briefly. "I really do; don't be angry."

"I could never be angry at you for this, Hermione." Harry got up to leave, but stopped in the doorway, looking out. "But you should know, I'm not going to let you leave our world without a fight." He turned around to face her. "And if you leave anyway, I'll follow you."

He wouldn't have a choice because his life wasn't worth living without her in it.

6:30pm, Sunday

Deirdre Kathleen Finnigan's Apartment

Notting Hill

Sirius knocked on the door of the apartment above an eclectic art studio on a mixed Muggle-wizarding street. He wasn't nervous, exactly, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this date was important. He smoothed imaginary wrinkles from his jacket and straightened his button-up shirt as he waited for Deirdre Kathleen to open the door. And when she did, he couldn't help but grin. The feisty witch was dressed in ripped Muggle jeans and a t-shirt emblazoned with a wide-open mouth with the tongue hanging out.

Holding the door open, she cocked her brow at his decidedly dressier ensemble. "I had no idea I needed to dress up, Sirius. Maybe you should have told me where we were going."

Sirius grinned wickedly; she wanted to teach him a lesson. I like you, Deirdre Kathleen. You'll do. He looked her up and down, lingering in all the expected places. "Tell you what, why don't you pick? My treat, obviously."

"Really? You'll let me pick?" Skepticism rang in Kate's voice.

"Absolutely."

"I'll get my jacket." She disappeared momentarily, allowing Sirius a brief glimpse into her brightly colored, cozy studio apartment, flooded with light from the windows overlooking the street. When she returned with her unstructured blazer in hand, he helped her shrug it on and offered her his arm.

"Where to, Deirdre Kathleen?"

"You could call me Kate, you know. Everyone else does."

"Now why would I do that?"

Their good-natured banter continued as they made their way to a popular Muggle café down the street. Sirius hadn't had such a good time with a witch in years.

12:30pm, Monday

Ministry for Magic, London

"I can't believe Sirius thought I'd just sit at Hogwarts while you face the press," Harry said.

Hermione smoothed the front of her blue tweed business suit. "He has a point though, doesn't he? The reporters are going to go nuts, saying that we're engaged or some such rubbish."

"Yeah. That's true. But what would they say if neither Ron nor I was here? That obviously there was trouble and that we didn't trust you or something. They're always looking for ratings. So, screw'em. I'll stand by you and then we'll head back to Hogwarts."

Just then, a familiar red-head bustled in with her youngest son in tow. "Hermione Jean Granger! It's a fine thing when I have to get the news second-hand. Ronald sent a letter to me with Pigwidgeon, but that blasted bird took forever to get to me." Molly Weasley, covered in flour, gathered her two adopted chicks in her arms for a hug sending up poofs of white powder and then stood back to examine them. "Now let me look at you. Well, Hermione dear, you'll do, even if you are a bit too thin. You too, Harry. Oh, oh what is that? Oh bother." Molly swished her wand and dispensed with the white streaks on Harry and Hermione's formerly pristine clothes. "Now, I'll leave you with Ron, and sit in the audience. Don't worry, I'll keep that horrid Skeeter in line."

The Trio watched as Molly charged out the door, a cloud of flour wafting in her wake. Ron turned to Hermione, wrapping her in a brief hug, and shook Harry's hand. "I got to thinking after our talk on Saturday, and I hope you don't mind, but I talked to the coach, told him what was going on and he gave me a pass. I've got to head back as soon as it's over. But I thought if I was here, it might cut down on the rubbish in the paper, yeah?"

Hermione smiled softly to his earnest expression. "Thank you, Ron."

He looked down at his clothes. "But don't let anyone cast a Finite at me. I had to transfigure my Quidditch robes to this. Didn't think that leathers would be a good look for a press conference."

"We've got you covered, mate." Harry clapped him on the back. "Glad you came. Sirius was giving us major shit about this. He's making it sound like me appearing with Hermione is a some sort of major announcement."

Ron looked a bit pained and cleared his throat. "Well, you know, he's not – wrong."

"Really, Ron? You too? Honestly, you know better." Hermione gaped at him.

"No, it's not that. I just got to thinking. You two, you weren't raised in the Wizarding World. I mean, you live here now, and –" he stopped at the look on her face. "What's that now? What's that look?"

Tight-lipped, Hermione shook her head and refused to answer.

"Oi, there, 'Mione. You better not be thinking about moving back to the Muggle world." Harry raised his eyebrows in confirmation at Ron's almost question. "You are; you're thinking about it."

This time, she gave a short nod.

"Please don't do that. You belong here; you belong with us. We'd…." Ron's voice trailed off. "We love you. Just…just try to stay, right?"

"Regardless, Ronald, what were you saying?" Hermione used her best swotty tone to get him back on topic.

"Blimey, Hermione. You've thrown me off." Ron shook his head shaking off the thought of her moving away like hound might shake off a pesky fly. "Right. Think about it – if just you two are up there with Sirius, then the press will look and see a picture perfect couple. Plus, Sirius is your godfather, Harry. He's your father. Of course they'll think he's promoting you two as a couple. If your best friend was a girl, it wouldn't be the same, and it'd probably be okay even with just Harry except all the 'Golden Trio' shite. And the articles in the paper from beginning of term, yeah?"

"Bloody hell." Harry hated to concede the point, but if Ron said it, then it probably wasn't just a generational thing that Sirius was exaggerating from some new-found well of parental responsibility.

"This is so unfair." Hermione sighed. "And now I'm whinging. Godric, this is ridiculous. Is it one o'clock yet?"

Sirius stepped into the room, providing an answer to her question, and took in the trio. "Ron – glad you could make it." He offered his hand to Ron. "It will make this all much easier. Now, as we were discussing earlier, I'll talk first. I have the prepared statement," he held up the parchment that they'd hashed out at Grimmauld Place. "Everyone ready?"

They all nodded and followed him out the door to the podium, Sirius in the lead, followed by Harry, Hermione, and Ron. They stood behind him slightly to the side, Hermione in the middle. The flashes from cameras almost blinded them, as the reporters caught sight of Hermione for the first time since her transformation.

Sirius cleared his throat to get their attention. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for attending this afternoon. I have a prepared statement from which I'll read, and afterward, we'll take a few questions. At your request, you will be provided with the text of the statement following this afternoon's conference:

The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black is pleased to announce the addition of a daughter to our House. Recently, my daughter, long believed murdered by Death Eaters in the fall of 1981, has been discovered alive. Unfortunately, my wife, Mary MacDonald Black, did not survive the attack. No one alive was aware of the continued existence of Catriona Pleiades Black until the magical glamours concealing her identity broke in a recent school exercise. Today, I am pleased to introduce my daughter you, Hermione Pleiades Black. After our conference today, we ask for space as we adjust to our new situation in this private, family matter.

Sirius stood slightly to the side to allow Hermione to step forward, and the cameras flashed madly again.

"Miss Granger! Miss Granger! How do you feel?"

Before Hermione could respond, Sirius's eyes narrowed dangerously and he interrupted. "She's Miss Black now."

The chastened reporter backpedaled. "Yes, of course. I didn't realize that she'd actually changed her name."

"The magic governing and surrounding her acted in this case, changing her name within the Hall of Mysteries."

A tentative hand went up in the middle, and Sirius pointed to the reporter. "So, Mr. Black, are you absolutely certain Miss Granger is in fact your daughter?"

Sirius sighed. "I must have been unclear. Miss Black, formerly Miss Granger, is my daughter. I'm not sure how much more clearly I can say that."

"How do we know that you are not falsifying this report simply to remove the taint of being Muggle-born?" That came from the back corner of the room. Sirius's hand flew to his wand pocket, but before he could pull it, Hermione stepped forward and answered.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean by 'taint' of being Muggle-born. If anything, being the child of Muggles makes these witches and wizards even more exceptional and unique. I was quite proud of my Muggle heritage, and indeed, I have found over the years that those who matter had no problem with my parents. Only those who were inured in the past seemed caught up in my blood status. I've never wished to be anyone but who I am."

Silence reigned momentarily as the assemblage digested the setdown Hermione had delivered with such aplomb. However, being reporters, they weren't quiet for long.

"Miss Granger, what, exactly, is the nature of your relationship with your step-brother, Harry Potter?'

Hermione turned to Harry and rolled her eyes before she answered the impudent question. "While I have no idea why this has any bearing on my newly discovered parentage, I'll address your question. Harry has been my friend since first year at Hogwarts. He continues to support me, and he and Ron are here only to support me through this conference. Nothing should be read into their presence beyond that. Harry is not my step-brother or brother, but rather the godson of my biological father. And he is my friend."

"Miss Granger, excuse me, I mean, Miss Black, how will this rise in social status affect you?"

"Oh for Godric's sake. I have no idea, but I don't plan to allow some mythical social status to affect me whatsoever."

"Miss Black - Hermione. May I call you Hermione? - do you feel your marriage prospects have become more suitable to such a promising young witch such as yourself?"

For fuck's sake, Ron was right. They're all about the superficial, the social aspect of this. Aloud, she sighed. "Quite frankly, I haven't given it much thought. Next question."

"Miss Granger, where will you be spending your leisure time, now that you're a member of the landed gentry?"

Another one? By the Founders. "I'm at school, so I'll be continuing my routine, preparing to sit for my N.E.W.T.s. Any other questions?"

"Miss Black, now that you have an income, will you be changing your humble style of dressing?"

Hermione glanced down at her smart suit. "No. Any pertinent questions?"

"Miss Black, you've always had such a heart for the unfortunate. Now that you no longer number amongst them, where do you see your interests turning? OWW!" The reporter reached down and rubbed the side of her leg before looking around suspiciously. She didn't see Molly tuck her wand back into her sleeve.

Another reporter jumped into the momentary lull. "Mr. Black! How do you feel about your daughter having been in such close quarters last year with two wizards, unsupervised?"

Sirius had no compunction about doing what he thought was best, and in this case the truth would serve no good purpose, so he prevaricated. "I'm quite sure that there is no proof any such thing, and as the head of her family, I'm prepared to take any and all steps now to prevent such slurs to my daughter's reputation. "

"But Mr. Black, there have been rumors of a very close relationship between Miss Black and Mr. Potter, even going so far as to say they were unchaperoned for some time last year. Would you care to comment?"

"I'm quite aware that Harry and Hermione are close friends, but I have seen no proof of any such allegations. Furthermore, I'll not countenance such slurs to either of their reputations. I trust I am making myself clear?"

"Mr. Black, is it true you had a secret flirtation with the witch now claiming to be your daughter?"

"That is an utter lie. And I will not deign to further address such nonsense." Sirius's sneer at the reporter was unadulterated pureblood disdain.

"Mr. Black, is Hogwarts' 8th year program an appropriate setting for your daughter?"

"Hogwarts is perfectly safe. Why would I object to my daughter attending school and sitting for her N.E. ?"

"Well, for these students there seems to be a lack of chaperones, supervision, and indeed, protocol. Surely you cannot approve of such lax conditions for your only daughter."

"I assure you, my daughter has a level head on her shoulders. And I find that I'm grateful for school, because the Charms surrounding her were broken there. I likely would have never known that she survived without Hogwarts."

Another reporter spoke up. "Harry - forgive me, but we all feel we know you so personally - will you comment on the character of the witch now claiming to be the daughter of your father's last living friend?"

Harry's emerald eyes widened at the vicious question. "Hermione is the brightest witch of our age, and I would trust her with the life of every man, woman, and child I know. Even yours."

A small titter sounded, and the next reporter decided to address Ron. "Mr. Weasley, may I say how dashing you look today? What can we expect from your team this year? Any new surprises in the lineup?"

Ron started to step forward when he heard his name, but froze when he heard the seemingly random question. He quickly recovered and flashed his wide grin. "Well, thank you. And the team is gelling really well. We're hoping for a good season. Of course we'd like to make a run at the Cup, that's every team's dream, yeah? But we've got a game against the Cannons in a couple of weeks. We'd love to see you lot there." Before he could retreat, another reporter spoke up.

"Mr. Weasley, how do you feel about Miss Black and Mr. Potter's possible relationship? Didn't you once wish to pursue a relationship with Miss Black?"

"Well, we've all been friends since we were eleven. And if Harry and Hermione decided to make a go of it, I'd support them, of course. But that's not really my business."

"Mr. Weasley, are the rumors true that you disassociated yourself from Miss Granger on grounds that she was unfaithful? With Mr. Potter? Ouch!" This reporter also rubbed her thigh while trying to pinpoint who had sent a nasty Stinging Hex in her direction.

Suppressing a grin, Ron answered, "That's rubbish."

"The cheating with Mr. Potter or the disassociation? Owww! Who is doing that?" She looked about frantically but again failed to notice Molly's surreptitiously tucking her wand away.

"It's all rubbish. I've not disassociated myself from either of my best friends and certainly not for some non-existent cheating."

Rita Skeeter, who had up to that point been stunningly silent, decided to ask her first question. "Harry dear, it's so good to see you. I was wondering – It has been reported that you were discovered in Miss Granger's bedroom, partially unclothed. Do you care to comment on the veracity of those claims?" Before Harry could answer, Rita's lurid magenta scarf moved up to gag her.

The reporters viewed Rita's predicament with a mixture of amusement and fear. Silence reigned for a few moments as Rita struggled to disentangle herself the scarf that wound evermore tightly around her mouth. But another intrepid soul attempted to sow division in the united front the Trio and Sirius presented.

"Mr. Potter, in a time of war, so much can be explained away by stress and battle fatigue. In the afters, such events take on a different connotation. How do you now view the actions of Miss Granger during your nerve-fraught time hiding from the Death Eaters?"

"I view Hermione's actions exactly as I did then. She has always been one of the bravest women I know."

"Mr. Potter, now that Miss Granger lays claim to your god-father's wealth in terms of inheritance, what will you do to support yourself?"

"I'd never planned on inheriting Sirius's wealth, and I can support myself. As to my plans for the future, I'm applying to the Auror academy after N.E.W.T.s in the spring." Harry's brow furrowed briefly. Did they think I was going to live off Sirius forever?

Yet another report apparently remembered that the Potters were wealthy in their own right. "Mr. Potter, have you considered a merger of families to keep the wealth centralized?"

Bloody hell, they aren't going to let go of it. "No."

"Mr. Potter, will you comment on the behavior of Miss Granger to date at Hogwarts?"

"You're taking the piss, right? Hermione is an of-age witch and she's acting just as she should! I'm not taking any more questions of that sort. Regardless of her parents, she deserves more respect than that kind of rubbish question. You people ought to be grateful to her, and instead you're like a pack of wolves. She's the reason we were able to defeat Voldemort." Harry turned in disgust and walked away from the podium to stand at the back of the dais, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Sirius moved back to the forefront. "I believe that will about do it for today. Thank you for coming – "

"I'm so sorry to interrupt, Mr. Black, but I do have one more question for you. What were the circumstances surrounding the supposed death of your daughter? How could a man of your standing not know the whereabouts of his supposed wife and child?"

Sirius paled. "Mary was my wife; there's no question of that. Just because our wedding was held in secret in an attempt to protect us in the first war does not make our marriage any less real. We were warned by my brother Regulus, at great risk to his own life, that Voldemort was coming for my family. Mary and I concocted a plan to hide Catriona, whom we now know as Hermione, with her distant relatives. She was returning to me when she was slaughtered by Death Eaters." He stopped, visibly composing himself before he continued. Hermione stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder, offering silent support. "Mary was a brilliant witch, and we believed that Catriona died with her. I am overjoyed that Hermione has been discovered, and I look forward to integrating her into the House of Black. We will have no further comment on this matter. Thank you for coming this afternoon."

He turned and offered Hermione his arm, and Harry and Ron followed him out of the room.

Ron broke the tension. "Well, that went well."

"Your mum was brilliant, mate. Did you see Skeeter's scarf?" Harry snorted.

"Yeah, Mum was right pissed. Pretty sure she sent the Stinging Hexes too."

Molly entered just as Ron was finishing his sentence. "Ronald, I'm quite sure you don't mean to accuse me of assaulting unsuspecting reporters. Now, don't you need to get back to practice?"

Midnight

Eighth Tower

"Why are you taking this so well, Harry? Doesn't it bother you that suddenly I'm someone else entirely?" Hermione looked to her best friend from her chair by the fire.

Harry, legs stretched across the two-seater, had been waiting for her to say something and looked up from his Quidditch Quarterly. "But Hermione, you're not someone else entirely; you're you." He tossed the magazine carelessly on the floor. "You'll always be Hermione to me, no matter who your parents are."

"But I don't even look like myself." She wiped away a tear. "And I don't recognize myself. And you heard those reporters – it's like they think I should be some vapid, empty-headed socialite."

"Yes, you do know who you are. You're Hermione Fucking Granger." He got up and sat on the arm of her chair. "Do you know what Ron said before we went on the Horcrux hunt?" At the shake of her head and another swipe at slowly falling tears, he continued, "He said we wouldn't last two days without you." She smiled tremulously. "And you know what? He was right." Harry gently wiped away a stray tear. "I meant what I said up there today to those reporters. Whether you're Hermione Granger or Hermione Black, it doesn't matter. But you are the brightest witch of your age. And Voldemort would have won without you by my side."

He moved from his perch and squatted down, gathering her hands in his so he could look her straight in the eyes. "You've been so strong for so long. And you helped me fight Voldemort. Don't ever think that I won't be here for you to help you fight the press or Sirius or the Ministry. Because I will. I want to fight those battles for you, but I know you - so let me help you fight them. Please?"

He searched her eyes for confirmation and breathed a sigh of relief when she almost silently responded. "Okay."

"Come on, let's go to bed. Get some sleep. And wait for me in the morning. Neville and I'll walk with you to the Great Hall, okay? Because you aren't doing this alone."

Harry walked Hermione the few steps to her door. "And if you're having trouble sleeping, just let me know. We'll figure something out, okay?"

Her brow wrinkled in thought. "You know, I haven't had a night terror since last week, before all this." Her hand motioned to her hair and face. "I mean, I'm still having some unpleasant dreams, but no terrifying nightmares."

"That's good then." Harry tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'll see you in the morning, yeah? Half seven?" She nodded and they both headed for their separate beds.

Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers! If you enjoyed this, please let me know with a review!