I sincerely intended for this chapter to be longer, but every time I read through it, the end as it is was just screaming at me that that's where it needed to stop.


Chapter Twelve

"Father, I'm okay, honestly," Hermione said with a smile sometime later that day when Rodolphus had finally stopped by with some things from home for her.

"Really?" His brows pinched together in a look of mild disbelief, as only a father could.

"Yes!" This time she tossed in a small, quiet laugh as she shook her head. "Thank you for bringing these," she said, nodding toward the bundle of clothing and personal toiletries one of the elves was taking up to her guest suite.

He shrugged. "I'd have brought them earlier, but when I called this morning, there was no response, other than one of the servants to tell me the master of the house and his guests were still asleep. Strange as, since you've come to live with us, I could swear I've known you to be a morning person."

Pretending she didn't hear the suspicion in her father's tone—he might not have reason to think anything about Orias Mulciber, since only Tom really knew of their relationship, but Tom was courting her, and it wouldn't be unheard of for a suitor to slip into his witch's bedroom afterhours—she forced herself to keep her expression light and her pulse calm as she twisted the truth a bit. "Father, honestly! I had trouble sleeping last night because of the incident with Mother. Tom and Mr. Mulciber sat up with me in the drawing room for a few hours just to keep me company."

"All right. I"d hate to think I need to have a fatherly talking-to with a lord, after all."

Hermione laughed, slipping her arms around him in a hug. "Funny, and here I thought I was a grown woman!"

A half-grin curving his mouth, Rodolphus caught her chin with gentle fingertips. "As the Muggles often say, no matter how old you get, you're always going to be my little girl."

Tears pinged the corners of her eyes as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Sometimes, it was easy to forget she'd only found her real parents weeks ago. Other times, the notion that so many years—of being together, of being a family, of them getting to watch her grow up, at all—had been stolen from them felt ever present, a thing capable of crushing her heart.

As much as she was still a bit terrified of mother, the thought of that weight on her heart was making her feel more sadness about her current, if temporary, estrangement from the woman than anything else.

Sniffling and blinking away her tears, she said, "Mother stopped by earlier, but I didn't speak to her."

"She did?" Father's brows shot up as he frowned. "She told me she was running errands, I had no idea . . . . Did she say anything to Tom?"

"I overheard most of it, I know she wanted to apologize. I just . . . ." She shrugged, shaking her head. "I just wasn't ready to face her, yet. But I'm still worried about how upset she must be. Is she all right? You know, considering?"

Stepping back from his daughter's embrace, he sighed. Rodolphus raked his fingers through his hair as he offered a shrug of his own. "Aside from metaphorically kicking herself for her rash behavior?"

With a sad smile, Hermione nodded.

"She says she's fine, but . . . oh, Hermione, I honestly don't know." Father sighed, shaking his head. "I feel like she's changing. I don't know how or even if it's just my imagination, but little things are different. She gets short with the elves over the most miniscule errors when she used to be so patient. She's not sharing things with me as she used to—like this business about her disapproving of a match between you and our lord. You'd think the woman would be thrilled. Bellatrix simply doesn't seem herself, lately."

Chewing at her lower lip as she thought, his daughter asked in a small voice, then, "Is—is it me? Is having me back actually bad for her?"

His shoulders dropping, Father reached for her, pulling her in for a second hug. "Oh, no, no. Of course, not. You mustn't think something like that."

"Why shouldn't I? This change is recent, so is my addition to your lives."

"You have no idea what it was like to welcome you back into our family after all this time." He let out a weighted breath as he pressed his cheek against the top of her head. "I don't think I'd ever seen her happier, save for the day you were born. No, no. This will pass, whatever is happening with her, it will. And then things will be perfectly normal, again, you'll see."

She nodded, allowing her spirit soothed by her father's words. After a few moments, thinking over his comment about the day she was born, she pulled back and met his gaze. "What was the name you and mother gave me when I was born?"

Try as he might, he could not hide the wince that flickered across his features. "Actually, I had very little say in what Bella wanted to call you. She named you after her mother."

Thinking back to the day they'd gone over the family tree with her, the bridge of her nose crinkled before an aghast expression overtook her features as she said, "Druella? Oh, oh, no."

With a warm chuckle, Rodolphus hugged his daughter tight, once more.


"And exactly why do you have dungeon cells in your basement?" she asked some time later as Tom brought her to the estate house's sublevel, in what she thought was the conclusion of a tour of the grounds, Mulciber in tow.

Tom shrugged, exhaling a breath through pursed lips. "I dreaded to ask that question, myself, when my parents were alive. Only answer I was ever really given was that during the Dark Times, wizarding society kept themselves fully separate from the Muggle world, as such, well, let us just say our ancestors preferred to police their own, as it were."

Biting back a sound of distaste, she peered into one of the cells. "This is it, isn't it? This is where you plan to 'keep' me during the full moon?"

Orias scowled; he did not like this idea at all. However, he recognized this was her decision not his. He merely watched Tom as he waited for the other man to respond.

"I know it seems unpleasant, but under the circumstances—"

"No, no." Shaking her head, she wrapped the fingers of one hand around the bars and gave them a sound tug. "I mean, yes, it's not entirely pleasant, but if we're going to keep this secret for a while, then I suppose it's the best plan under the circumstances. The space is clean, the bars are strong. It'll keep me from getting out and hurting anyone, and limits the risk of me injuring myself."

Mulciber's brows shot up as his lips pulled into a thoughtful frown. "Hmm. I wasn't expecting her to take that quite so well."

With a frown of his own, Tom consulted his watch. "I have a meeting before dinner is served that I really must get to. Mulciber, would you mind perhaps showing her the reliquary?"

Taking it nearly as some sort of personal affront that the aforementioned location had been left out thus far, she asked, "Why was that not the first thing on the tour?" Well, typically she'd have demanded the library be first on any tour of an Ancient and Noble House estate, but she'd already seen that.

Snickering, Tom captured her chin in his fingers and covered her mouth with his own in a quick but hungry kiss. "My sincerest apologies. No idea what I could've been thinking. Anyway the reliquary is actually a separate building, entirely, on the far side of the grounds. Would you wait up in the foyer for just a moment while I have a word with Mulciber?"

Her brows pinched together as she glanced at Orias for a second. "Are you going to kill him?"

"What? No."

A hint of color flooded her cheeks. "You're not going to do the other thing, are you?"

Mulciber let out a hearty, surprised chuckle as Tom answered with a solemn shake of his head. "Never without you there, my sweet."

Biting her lip on a playfully scandalized gasp, the witch turned and started out of the cellar. Orias was almost awkwardly aware of how Tom watched her go, of how he waited until she was up the stairs with the door closed between them before he returned his attention to the towering man.

"The meeting I have now is last minute, but very important. It is also something I don't really want her to know about just yet."

Orias scowled, shaking his head. "Not sure I like being made party to you deceiving our witch, there."

Forcing himself not to bristle at the other wizard's deliberate wording, Tom once more shook his head. "Nothing like that. My meeting is with Fenrir Greyback, to discuss the affliction he passed on to Hermione."

"And she can't know about that because . . . ?"

Tom frowned darkly. "Because Rodolphus told me how she and Greyback were around one another the night he bit her."

Well, Orias didn't like where it sounded like this was leading. "And?"

"Remember what I said about werewolves and chemistry?"

"Mm-hmm."

"If he wasn't exaggerating, then Hermione's chemistry with Greyback makes what happened with the three of us last night seem like a chaste bit of snogging."

Orias curled his lip. "I see."

"Under those circumstances, I'd rather they cross paths as little as possible. So . . . do what you must, but keep her occupied until I send one of the elves to collect you two."

His eyebrows shooting upward, Orias echoed, "Do what I must?"

Perfectly aware what he might be granting permission to happen, Tom nodded.

. . . . Mulciber liked the sound of that very much, indeed. "You're the boss," he said with a smirk and a salute before turning on his heel and starting back after the witch.

Tom watched Orias Mulciber leave, just as he'd watched Hermione. Alone in the cellar, now, a truly displeased expression crossed his face. He'd meant every word he'd said to Mulciber just now. What made him so very, very upset at the moment was that Hermione'd said she had tracked down Greyback to talk to him about what was happening to her.

But if what Rodolphus had said about the night Hermione was bitten wasn't exaggerated, then he very much doubted the situation was as innocent as his witch had claimed.