A/N: Love to reviewers and Countess Black

NB: I'm sick of writing 'In this universe' so from now on, assume that unless something specifically states 'Per JKR' or something, okay?

To answer a question: Yes, Purebloods do have to know basic self care. Until Dumbledore took over, many children brought elves to school with them as status symbols, but Dumbledore abolished the practice because it was causing problems and seperating the Purebloods from the muggleborns too sharply. Most Purebloods regard this as an unreasonable concession demanded of them, so while they're all capable, as a matter of preference, anyone who can afford it uses an elf.

When Narcissa came the next morning, she was nearly mauled by Hermione, who flung her arms about her aunt and held on for dear life, saying nothing. Narcissa hugged back, rubbing gently, and said 'Hermione, has something happened?'

Hermione nodded, not letting go. She rested her head against her aunt and closed her eyes, feeling safer now that Narcissa was here and would protect her from...things.

Narcissa murmured softly and guided her niece toward the divan. The child immediately sat down in her lap and rested her head against Narcissa's neck. Narcissa pressed the back of Hermione's head with her hand and started to hum.

Hermione had slept poorly, and the combination of comfort and affection was too much to resist. Her eyes closed and she began to breath very evenly. 'Aunt Narcissa? You won't leave, will you?'

'No, love. I'll stay right here.'

Hermione had been sleeping peacefully for about five minutes when Bellatrix came in. She looked about as well as her daughter, face paler than usual. It didn't precisely take an Arithmancer to work out that the two were related.

Narcissa put Hermione down and covered her with a blanket from the back of the divan. She and Bellatrix sat in chairs close by, and she enclosed them both in a Silencing spell, which would permit Hermione to see them and they her while allowing them some privacy.

'What happened?'

Bellatrix summarised in a flat voice everything that had transpired.

'Oh, Trixie. What did Cunegarde say, exactly?'

'She didn't say. Hermione.'

'Did you ask?'

Bellatrix shook her head, curly hair bouncing a bit. 'She didn't want to talk to me.'

'Did you offer?'

'I came up. She pretended she was asleep. I can't do this, Cissy.'

'Can't do what?'

'I can't be her mother.' Bellatrix was staring straight ahead, watching her child from the corner of her eye, trying to keep her voice even. Narcissa took her hand. 'Of course you can, Bellatrix.'

'Can't. She doesn't want me. Wouldn't even tell me what was wrong.'

'Of course she does.'

'No. She wants you. Or the elf. Or the muggles. But not me.' There was no grief in her tone, but a kind of dry and terrible bitterness that spoke more of resignation than anything.

Hermione stirred. 'Aunt Narcissa?'

Narcissa dissolved the bubble. 'Sweetheart? Are you all right?'

'Yes. Hello, Mother.'

Bellatrix nodded. 'Hello, Hermione. Having a nap?'

'Just for a minute. I don't, usually.' Bellatrix looked between her sister and daughter, wondering what happened now. Narcissa smiled brightly and said 'Love, why don't you and I spend a little time together?' Hermione sat up, still very tired, and watched cautiously as Bellatrix slipped out the door and walked away. Narcissa caught her eye for a second-she'd ferret this out and tell her older sister what had prompted this.

'Darling, what happened?'

Hermione summarised the conversation. 'Is that true?'

'What Cunegarde said, you mean?'

'Yes. Did they really leave because I'm magical?' Hermione was staring at her hands, unwilling to look up. Narcissa cringed internally and resolved to give the old woman a telling off, 117 or no.

'I don't think so, love.'

'Then why haven't they tried to get in contact? They've not written or anything. They could write care of the school and it would find me.'

Narcissa took the little girl's hand in hers. 'Darling, it's possible they've been...well, hurt. Had their memories wiped, or...'

Hermione shook her head. 'Then why hasn't someone found them? Their-their bodies, if nothing else.'

Hermione, though Narcissa with a painful kind of pride, was such a clever little girl. 'I have no answer. I am so sorry.'

Hermione nodded, suddenly looking exhausted. 'I am too.'

'Why didn't you want to tell your parents? They're very worried.'

Hermione shook her head. 'No, I don't think so.'

'No?'

'They've got their work, Aunt Narcissa. And I was an accident.'

'Who told you that?'

'No one. But they...they don't...they didn't mean for it to happen. Else they wouldn't have gone to prison. And she would have known. Mum-Mrs. Gra-she always said she knew from the first she was going to have me. But we know now that wasn't true.'

'And if she-my wizarding mother, I mean-if she'd wanted me, she would have known. I don't blame them. My others parents didn't want me anymore. Why should these?' Hermione's voice was very calm, as flat as Bellatrix's had been.

Narcissa felt like she'd been punched. So this was what was hiding under Hermione's cheerful exterior. She reached out and Hermione flinched. 'I can't.'

'Can't what, love?'

'Please, I can't.' The child's legs curled up and she wrapped her arms round them and rested her face in her lap.

'Why not, Hermione?'

Hermione's answer was muffled in her skirts. She put her head up and said 'Because then you'll leave me, too. I don't want to go through this again.'

Narcissa's eyes stung. 'Oh, love, come here. Shhh, just come here. Only a second, sweetheart.'

Hermione moved closer, watching her aunt, not sure what she should do. She badly wanted to crawl into her aunt's lap and go back to sleep, but she knew it was a bad idea. She'd not been able to restrain herself when she'd first seen Narcissa, but she didn't want to be a bother. If her muggle parents could leave her because of something she couldn't help, what are the odds her wizarding parents would want her if she was annoying or disrespectful or disobedient?

She got a bit closer and let Narcissa settle her again in the woman's lap. She was still tired, but she didn't want to go to sleep. She wanted to enjoy the feeling of security, because she could lose it at any time. She knew that now.

Narcissa had officially upgraded it from a telling off to something involving a few of the nastier hexes she knew. 'Shhh. Shhh. Do you need to cry, love?'

Hermione shook her head. 'I'm too upset. Is that wrong?'

'No, darling, it's not. Maybe rest a bit more?'

Hermione tensed a bit. 'You'll be here when I wake up?'

'I promise.'

The girl clamoured down and consented to being tucked back in. Narcissa called for something to help her get to sleep, and when she left, ordering the elf to summon her the instant that Hermione woke, or ideally before.

Bellatrix was in the library. Rodolphus was on some errand or something (probably off to chew the proverbial fat with someone, she thought) and the women had the house quite to themselves.

At least, thought Narcissa bravely, Trixie took the news better than one might have expected. 'She said that? To Hermione?'

'Yes, apparently.'

Bellatrix was headed for the door. Narcissa leapt up. 'Trixie, don't!'

'I'm not going to wake her, Cissy. Children need rest. Don't they?'

'They do, but we both know where you're going, Bellatrix. Don't. Let Rodolphus do it.'

Bellatrix ignored her. 'Bellatrix, please! This is not the way!' In her current mood, Trixie might not just yell at the old woman-she could kill her.

'Then what is?' Bellatrix sat down on the landing, like a child. 'Tell me, Narcissa, what should I do?'

Narcissa sat down next to her sister, right on the steps. 'Reassure her, Trixie. Reassure Hermione that you love her and would never, ever leave her.'

'She knows that already.'

'Does she? How?'

Bellatrix blinked. 'Because...because...God damn that decrepit old bitch to coldest edge of the Great Wastes.' She looked at her sister, who was, and would always be, in her mind, a ruffled little girl, even younger than Hermione, begging for Bellatrix to let her climb into her bed.

'She really thinks we'll leave her?'

Narcissa sighed. 'Wouldn't you, if you were her?'

'I'd be too angry. Is she? Angry?'

'Not that she said. Is telling her out of the question?'

Bellatrix looked aside herself. 'We'd thought it easier this way, I suppose.'

'It's not. She needs to know they didn't leave her because of something she did. Otherwise, I'm not sure she'll ever be all right again.'

'You're being dramatic, Cissy. She'll get over it, surely.'

Narcissa was no seer, but her conversation with Hermione had given her a window into the child's future; she could see a long, grey vista, coloured by insecurity and doubt, constant dread. Did people really love her? Would they, too, vanish when she ceased to be convenient for them?

And worse than that, a low, worried voice demanding she earn the love of those round her again and again, suppressing herself, making herself useful, afraid, always, that it was not enough, never safe, never open, a life lived in a state of hiatus, waiting for the other slipper to drop.

'No, Trixie. She needs to know.'

Bellatrix half rose and then sat back down. 'There were pictures of her all over the house, you know. She was their world.'

'That's part of the problem, I daresay. She doesn't understand what happened. It came out the proverbial clear blue sky.'

'Did she say that?'

'She didn't need to.'

Bellatrix rose and started up the stairs. 'Trixie?'

'Cissy?'

'I thought you weren't going to.'

'I'm going to go my child, Narcissa. But not until I've had a talk with the old woman.'

Cunegarde was being read to when the door burst open, and her nephew's wife stood before her, hair frizzing everywhere. The woman flicked her wand and a hush fell.

'The only reason I haven't killed you is because Hermione couldn't stand to lose anyone else.'

'It was necessary. The girl needs to be taught. And anyway, you wouldn't dare.'

'Give me a reason-ever-and I'll put something in your food. See how high and mighty you are as your guts squirt out of you and your skin blisters off.'

Cunegarde looked hard at Bellatrix. 'I shall tell Rodolphus about this.'

'As though he'd believe you. Or care.'

'The girl-'

'The girl is eleven. And probably the only person who'd care if you did die, so I'd treat her a bit better. Because the day she doesn't care anymore, I'm dosing you. Remember that.'

The rest of Hermione's day went smoothly. Bellatrix had a number of tasks to do, and left her sister and only child together in order that Hermione should have time to re-adjust a little.

Narcissa left just before supper, promising Hermione she'd be there in the morning and that Hermione could always owl if there was an emergency. The new robes were almost ready, and Narcissa told Hermione about them, distracting her with something innocuous.

Supper that night was simple, as Rodolphus had firecalled to let them know he was detained. Over soup and sandwiches, the ladies studied one another, until Bellatrix said finally 'Tell me something?'

Hermione swallowed her mouthful of prawn bisque. 'Yes, Mother?'

'Why do you go and visit that old woman? You can't like her.'

'No, but I feel sorry for her. It would be terrible to be old and alone.'

'Her behaviour is half of it. She's always been this way, ever since I was a child.'

'You knew Aunt Cunegarde when you were young?'

'Your grandmothers were friends. I'd come here to visit, and she'd be here.'

'Did you know Father as a child, too?'

'Of course.'

Hermione ate a bit more. 'Mother?'

'Hmm?'

'Were you sorry to hear you had a child?'

Bellatrix blinked. 'What?' The girl looked uneasy, and she held up a hand. 'Who's filled your head with such rubbish, is what I mean.'

' I just wondered. I know you've important work to do.'

'Well, yes, we do, but I wasn't sorry.'

'Were you afraid I might interfere with your work?'

Bellatrix ate a bite to give herself some time. 'You know, people in my line of work usually don't have children. I was surprised, but not a bad surprised.'

'Death Eaters don't have children?'

'Mostly they do, but only one or two. And usually both members of the couple aren't Death Eaters, just the man. Men can father children more easily than a woman can carry them in this line of work.'

'You didn't know you were pregnant?'

'No. I had some problems with certain things.' She wasn't prepared to explain menstruation. That was a Narcissa thing, definitely. 'Medi-wizards always told me I couldn't, and it never occurred to me.'

Hermione nodded. 'But you would have been happy?'

'Yes' lied Bellatrix, who would have been absolutely furious had she known. 'And so would your father, and your grandparents, and my mother.'

'And Aunt Narcissa and Uncle Lucius.'

'Yes.'

'Where are my grandparents?'

'Your grandmother Klytemnestra died in 1983, and Achilles died four years later. My mother, your Grandmama, died in 1980.'

'I'm sorry, Mother.'

'Thank you.' Bellatrix felt a slightly annoying surge of pride at how thoughtful the girl was. Not that she could take the credit, but still, it was nice. And when it came time for Hermione to marry, it would be a credit to them.

'What did you and Narcissa talk about?'

'Garden parties, and my lessons with Snape.'

'Snape?'

'I asked whether I'd actually get to use any of what I'm learning. She said sometimes. And I asked whether I'd have to make all my husband's shirts like Aunt Cunegarde said.'

Bellatrix snorted. 'Don't take Cunegarde seriously, girl. She lives in the past.'

'Why does she live with us? Doesn't she have a house?'

Bellatrix signalled the elf to give her more soup. 'She did. But someone had to mind this place after Achilles died, and so she moved in to keep the place from being seized and auctioned.'

'They can do that?'

'Not anymore, since the Dark Lord started to reform the Ministry.'

'And you're part of that?'

'Quite.'

Hermione absorbed this. 'I'd like to help people like that.'

'You will. Everyone's got a place, my girl, from the highest to the lowest.'

At Hogwarts, Snape, using information got from his rat-spy, walked to the base of the Whomping Willow. Just as he'd suspected, there was a large black dog there. Snape stepped into the light and raised his wand. 'I know it's you, Black. You can change back directly and help me or I'll call the Dementors. You've to the count of five. One, two-'

The dog melted and a shadow of Black's former handsome self emerged. 'Snape?'

'That's right.' Snape kept the wand trained on Black. 'I know everything. And if you want to avenge yourself, then you'll do just as I say, how I say.'

'Why should I trust you?'

'Because you've no choice, you fool. Come here, we're Apparating.'

He Apparated them to Spinner's End and let them in. 'The bathroom is the last door on the right. There's a clean toothbrush on the top shelf of the medical cabinet, and I'll find you something to wear.' He called an elf from Hogwarts.

'Fix a small bowl of porridge and some dry toast, and weak tea with honey. Then make sure the cabinets are warded and tell no one what you see here, understand?'

The elf bowed and hastened to obey. When Black came down twenty minutes later, smelling much better, he gobbled down the hot food and then stared at Snape.

'Why are you helping me?'

'Because you've something I want, of course.'

'What's that?'

Snape summed up the situation, leaving out the part about Pettigrew's new life as Chum the rat. Black listened to the whole thing without much emotion. 'And so that's the price of freedom, is it?'

'Not quite. I'll need regular reports, for one, and also the occasional act of sabotage.'

'I won't work against my friends.'

'What friends? They turned on you en masse, Black.'

Sirius finished the last of the tea. 'They'll figure out I've escaped.'

Snape smiled. 'Will they?'

It was the parchment. Knowing Black would take the bait and run, Snape had got the corpse of one of the 'special interrogation' team's latest victims from one of Scabior's boys for a galleon bribe and a swift Obliviate, and then Transfigured it, using every ounce of his magical acumen to keep it stable for twenty four hours.

Even as Black had fled, the Dementors had been gathering, scenting death, and when the thing changed back utterly, mangled beyond all recognition, they would bury it. As of tonight, Sirius Black was dead, officially and by nearly every other measure.

Black listened to all this with impassivity. 'Ah. You always were a devious sod, Snape.'

'And you a bullying little ponce, Black, but we've no time to reminisce. You'll spend some time here getting your strength back, and then I'll find something for you to do.'

Black nodded. 'All right.'

Snape felt suspicious at best. 'You're taking all this with remarkable elan, Black, for a man whose life was destroyed utterly and then was saved from Azkaban.'

Black looked at the table. 'It's a lot to take in, Snape.'

'Quite. If you need to contact me, use this elf.' And with that, Snape left the man and the elf there, knowing it was well warded and otherwise safe for the nonce, which had to be enough for now.

In Leicestershire, Rodolphus turned to McNair and smiled. 'Really, Walden, you never fail to outdo yourself.'

'I do my upmost.' The man poured a bit more brandy for them both as the elves cleared away the remains of their fun. Both men were wearing clean clothes, and he said 'I wonder, Rodolphus, how you would feel about discussing a marriage between your daughter and my son?'

Rodolphus nodded. 'Your boy is what, twenty or twenty one?'

'Twenty two in November. And your girl is ten?'

'Something like that. She's really closer to about twelve, all things being equal. And mentally I think she's forty or so.' They both laughed.

'By the time she came of age, Wetherell would be twenty nine. He's a rising star in the Department of Magical Transportation, blood is pure on both sides, good looking.'

'I wouldn't let her marry until she was at least eighteen, of course.'

'Of course. And the terms would be, I assure you, most generous.' McNair badly wanted this match, and while his family was cash poor, they had resources enough to compensate when it came to land, houses and the like.

'Of that, I had no doubt.' Rodolphus wouldn't commit just yet-with her exquisitely pure blood, good looks, fortune and adorable personality, Hermione was, without a doubt, the most valuable heiress in Europe, or at least in the top ten.

There was a knock at the door. Both men tensed until Rabastan's long frame came through the door. Rodolphus jumped up, grinning, and hugged his little brother.

'Hello, Rodolphus.'

'Rabastan, you look well. And the giants didn't even squash you flat.'

'Not for lack of trying. McNair, so good to see you.'

'And yourself. I'm trying to convince your brother that a marriage between our houses would be very useful to us both. Do work on him, won't you?'

Rabastan grinned. 'No use, my friend. Rodolphus here is like a stone once he's resolved something, even if it's to wait before he decides.'

'Ah. More's the pity for me, then. I shall have to wait a bit.' He motioned for them to sit down, and the three shared a bit of gossip and snacked on cheese and olives. The Lestranges finally had to excuse themselves, so Rabastan could finally meet his niece, if nothing else, and then Floo'd home to Licolnshire.

Bellatrix heard the Floo go and gently tugged Hermione to her feet. 'It's your father, girl. Let's go and greet him.'

Beside Father was a man who was obviously her uncle. They looked like two peas in a pod, almost identical for all the other man was a bit shorter and clean shaven. Rodolphus smiled and motioned to his child. 'Come and meet your uncle, my pet.'

Hermione came up and looked at her uncle. 'Hello, Uncle. It's good to meet you.'

'And yourself, Hermione. I regret I couldn't come earlier.' He hugged her, marvelling at this continuation of their line, how cute she was.

'Darling, it's almost time for bed, hmm?'

Hermione nodded. 'Yes, Father. Goodnight, Uncle Rabastan.'

'Goodnight, Hermione.'

They watched her go up the stairs, and then the adults sat down. 'How did it go with the giants?'

'Well. I think they'll side with us.'

'What good could they possible be to us?'

He shrugged. 'Trixie, it's not the giants, it's what they represent.'

'I suppose.'

Rodolphus nodded. 'Hermione had a bit of run in with Aunt Cunegarde last night. Did you ever find out what that was about?'

Bellatrix's hand tightened on her cup. 'The old bitch decided to tell her that the muggles ran off because she has magic.'

Both brothers stared at one another for a second. 'That's terrible. Is Hermione all right?'

'No.' Bellatrix inhaled. 'As a matter of fact, I'm going to go and talk to Hermione about it right now. It was good seeing you, Rabastan.'

'And yourself, Bellatrix.'

Hermione was reading. Bellatrix walked in without knocking and sat down on the edge of the bed, using the stool to hop up.

'About earlier...you know that the muggles didn't leave because you're magical, don't you?'

Hermione put her book down. 'Then why did they?'

Bellatrix took the child's hand as she had often seen Narcissa do. 'Don't know. But I don't think it was because of something you did.'

Hermione's eyes teared. 'But why haven't they tried to get in touch? Don't they...' Her voice dropped and she almost whispered the next part. Bellatrix winced internally. She was making a fine muck of this, no doubt.

'If they didn't, they did a good job hiding it.'

Hermione blinked, and then, very softly, 'Mother? Are they dead?'

'I wouldn't be surprised.'

A second later the child was attached to her, head in her neck, sobbing, arms clutching like she was afraid Bellatrix would vanish. Bellatrix felt awkward, as though she might somehow break the girl, but also a bit less helpless than before. A bit.

Hermione held onto her wizarding mother as tightly as she could. Her chest was heaving, sweat dampening her back. Her heart hurt, but part of herself was aware that the feeling she felt most was relief, relief that she hadn't been left after all, though she knew as long as it couldn't be proved either way there would always be a little fear, or thought she knew. But that was for later.

Rodolphus and Rabastan, headed upstairs, heard a sound from the direction of Hermione's rooms. Rabastan excused himself and Rodolphus, worried, let himself in.

'All right, shh, shh, what's happened?'

Hermione didn't answer. Bellatrix shook her head at her husband, lowering her eyebrows and sort of grimacing her with her mouth to let him know to drop the subject.

He sat down on her other side and touched Hermione's damp back. 'Pet, shhh, shhh.'

He gestured to an elf, who came back bearing a phial from their bare potions cabinet, a phial which glinted green-gold. He waited for the child's sobs to taper off and then said, very quietly 'Hermione, when you're ready, I'd like to hug you, all right?'

Hermione nodded but made no move to climb off of Bellatrix, who felt strangely glad to have her there. After what seemed like hours, the girl sat up, and Bellatrix traded places with her husband.

Rodolphus held out the phial. 'This will help you fall asleep, love. There's the girl, all of it.' Hermione handed back the phial and got a bit closer, in hugging range. She slowly leant into Rodolphus, not quite sure how she felt.

Rodolphus held her until she relaxed a bit. The Soothing Syrup was beginning to take effect, he could tell. The girl didn't protest or resist his setting her in his lap, or when he started to rub her back lightly.

Hermione felt very calm. Her insides hurt from crying so hard, but the potion was making everything seem calm and fuzzy and nice. Her eyes were starting to droop, and she nestled closer, breathing deeply.

Rodolphus kept rubbing and waited for her to relax totally before he carefully tucked her back in and spelled the lights out. The Lestranges waited to speak until the door to their rooms had closed.

'Trixie?'

'She's guessed they're dead. No point in pretending anymore.'

'No.' He sat down and motioned for the elf to tug off his boots. 'She doesn't suspect...?'

'No.'

He changed into his nightclothes. 'You know, McNair's asking for Hermione. For his son.'

Bellatrix snorted. 'Really?'

'Yes. I'm not inclined, are you?'

'I'd sooner marry her to one of your brother's giants.'

He laughed and slid into bed. 'My thoughts precisely.'