A/N: I had a plan when I started this chapter. There was an outline, and things were going to go a certain way. Then the characters sort of took over and did their own thing. I… I'm not ever sure what happened here. Except the last bit. I had planned on the last bit.
/\/\/\/\/\
The four Black wizards had arranged amongst themselves to meet in Orion's study after an early breakfast. It was the official Christmas break for the Wizengamot so Orion didn't have any meetings to go to this morning. Cygnus, Sirius, and Regulus had also cleared their schedules.
"How do we want to proceed?" Cygnus asked with a solemn look around at the others.
"Let's start with Sirius and Regulus," Orion decided. He pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and put it on his lap-desk. He turned to Regulus. "To whom did you speak?"
Regulus clasped his hands in his lap and took several deep, slow breaths. He closed his eyes, all the better to concentrate, and thought back to last night.
"I first danced with Zinnia Fawley," he murmured. "She was polite, but she was more interested in whether or not I could arrange a dance with Harry Potter."
"Did she mention anything unusual?" Orion prompted him cautiously.
"She congratulated me, but I'm not certain as to why," Regulus admitted.
Orion grimaced. "Very well, the next?"
"A witch who called herself Luna Lovegood," Regulus replied.
Sirius leaned forward. "Did she say anything interesting?" He asked curiously.
"Why do you ask, Sirius?" Orion asked.
"Luna has a knack for offering a unique perspective," Sirius explained. He frowned and shook his head. "She can be uncannily insightful."
Orion turned back to Regulus. "Regulus? Did Miss Lovegood say anything interesting?"
"She complimented me on having an unusually bright aura," Regulus said thoughtfully. "Then, she told me to be careful. She said I could trust the untrustworthy."
"Rita Skeeter?" Cygnus asked.
"Perhaps," Orion murmured. He made a careful note on his parchment.
Speak to Luna Lovegood.
"Who was next?"
Carefully, Regulus went through each interaction, recalling each person he had spoken to, each dance partner.
"The last person I danced with was Lavender Brown." Regulus frowned slightly. "If I understood her correctly, she is the girlfriend of Ronald Weasley. Miss Brown said something… she hoped that Hermione wasn't too upset with the way things had worked out."
"What does that mean?" Cygnus grumbled.
Everyone turned to look at Sirius who grimaced.
"I'm not certain," Sirius began.
"Tell us what you do know," Orion encouraged him.
"I know that Weasley fancied our Keeper. I remember hearing them arguing about a dance during their Fourth Year. Hermione had been asked by Viktor Krum, he's a Seeker for the Bulgarian Team, and Weasley was jealous," Sirius explained.
"Did they date?" Regulus demanded with a scowl.
"I know that Krum and Hermione saw one another the summer between her Fourth and Fifth Year, and they wrote to one another up until… until I passed through the Veil," Sirius offered.
"Not Krum," Regulus retorted. "I meant Weasley."
"Oh," Sirius sighed. He shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea."
"Would your godson know?" Cygnus suggested.
"I'm sure that he would. He and Hermione are very close," Sirius admitted.
"Later," Orion said firmly. "This is more important than who has or has not dated our Keeper."
"Yes, Father," Regulus muttered.
Orion's quill scratched on his parchment. Have Sirius speak to Potter. He looked up and Sirius was already performing the mental exercises that would help him recall the previous evening with perfect clarity.
"Whom did you dance with first?" Orion asked.
/\/\/\/\/\
It had been an odd morning. Hermione woke up in Regulus' bed—though that wasn't the odd part since she usually woke up in one of her wizard's beds. Once she slipped back into her own rooms, she then spent almost a half-hour arguing with Jinx about whether or not she needed to wear her Keeper's robes.
"I'm going to be home all day today, Jinx," Hermione had pointed out. "If I do leave the Manor, I will change, okay?"
"What if someone is coming to the Manor, Missy Keeper?" Jinx had argued.
Hermione sighed. "My understanding is that Orion has secured this place so tightly that it's unplottable, unscryable, and wrapped under wards so thick that you'd need an entire team of cursebreakers to get in—and that's after you were able to find the place." She paused and frowned at Jinx. "The only people who might possibly visit would be family."
"The Potter Scion is coming to the Manor all the time," Jinx retorted sullenly, sensing that she was losing the battle.
"Harry is family," Hermione said and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Very well," Jinx muttered.
Feeling far more victorious than she should, Hermione slipped on a pair of jeans. Her fingers had automatically reached for one of her old school sweaters emblazoned with a lion in bright crimson and gold, but then she remembered the conversation at Twillfitt and Tattings. With a smirk, she dug through her dresser until she found a well-worn black and burgundy Quidditch jersey with 'Krum' stitched on the back.
I wonder if they'll notice. Hermione snorted and pulled the jersey on. Of course they would notice. Her wizards noticed everything. A smug little smile played around Hermione's mouth as she walked down to the breakfast nook, and strode into an empty room. Her smug smirk faltered. Minnie cracked into the breakfast room.
"What is Missy Keeper wanting this morning?" Minnie asked.
My husbands.
"Where… where is everyone?" Hermione asked with a frown.
"Masters are working on a project, and have locked themselves into Master Orion's study," Minnie explained. "If Missy Keeper wouldn't mind, we is having some Owls waiting to leave their post."
"Send them in Minnie," Hermione said with a sigh. "And I'd like eggs and soldiers if that's okay."
"As Missy Keeper wishes," Minnie replied with a firm nod.
The Owls swooped in, and Hermione fed them and took their letters. There were several for her wizards, which she set to the side in four small piles—one for each man. Hermione flipped through her own pile. She smiled when she spotted Harry's untidy scrawl. Quickly, she opened his letter and scanned it.
Hermione,
I need to talk to you.
Harry
Her eyebrows rose in surprise. It was so unlike him to send such a terse note. Then again… it wasn't as though Harry was wildly verbose, either. She chewed on her lower lip. If Harry were upset… then he might send such a short letter. Or if he were worried about the letter being intercepted. There had been quite a few times over the years that all of them had to be careful about what they wrote.
Anxiously, Hermione worried her lower lip between her teeth. Harry needed her. Without any further thought, Hermione pushed herself up from the breakfast table with the letter clutched in her hand, and hurried to the Floo. She grabbed a handful of Floo powder and tossed it in.
"Grimmauld Place," Hermione called urgently, and then she stepped into the Floo.
A second later, Minnie cracked into the breakfast room.
"Missy Keeper?"
/\/\/\/\/\
When Hermione stepped through at Grimmauld Place, Harry was pacing anxiously and muttering under his breath. With a cry of happiness he grabbed Hermione and hugged her so tightly she squeaked.
"Oh, thank Merlin," he muttered into her hair.
"Harry, what's going on?" Hermione asked, pulling back to frame Harry's face with her hands. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Harry replied, batting her hands away from his face. "It's Ginny," he sighed.
"Ginny? What about her?" Hermione frowned. "Is she okay? Did something happen?"
"She wants to get back together," Harry groaned.
Hermione quirked an eyebrow at Harry. "So just tell her that you aren't interested."
Harry flushed. "I might have… told her that I was seeing someone," he muttered.
Both Hermione's brows rose at that. "Not me! My wizards would use you for target practice."
"Of course not you," Harry snapped and rolled his eyes at her. "I'm not stupid, Hermione."
"No, you just told Ginny that you have a… what? A girlfriend? A boyfriend?" Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared at her best friend.
Harry flushed. "A girlfriend," he mumbled.
"Did you say who?" Hermione pressed.
"Um, not exactly." Harry flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Molly came in at that exact moment, and she invited her to come and have Christmas dinner."
"Tell Molly that you can't, that you've already accepted an invitation to Black Manor," Hermione suggested.
"I did that," Harry confessed, and the flush grew darker. "Sorry."
"And?" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.
"She still wants me to bring her over. After Christmas is fine, she says," Harry sighed.
"So you need a fake girlfriend, and you need her in the next few days?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Harry…"
"I know, I know!" Harry cried.
"Where are we going to find a witch willing to pretend to be your girlfriend?" Hermione demanded.
"Hey!" Harry protested. "I'm not that bad!"
"That doesn't even enter into it," Hermione snapped. "You can't just grab a random witch off the street and say 'hey, wanna be my fake girlfriend', Harry."
"I know, that's why I wrote you," Harry snapped back.
"What am I supposed to do?" Hermione demanded.
"I thought maybe you could help me figure out what to do," Harry groaned.
"Okay. Right. So… a fake girlfriend," Hermione said to herself. She nibbled on her lower lip and stared off into space for a moment. "It can't be anyone that we know because Ginny knows them, too. If any of our friends had started dating you she would have already heard about it."
"How are we supposed to ask someone who isn't a friend?" Harry asked.
"Someone who isn't a friend," Hermione murmured thoughtfully. She gasped. "I have it! Where's your owl?"
"You have what? And why do you want Cliodna?" Harry asked.
"I'm going to write Draco," Hermione said as though it should be obvious.
"Malfoy!" Harry stared at her. "Why him?"
"He is not our friend," Hermione said and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Harry, aren't you listening to me at all?"
"But… but it's Malfoy," Harry protested.
Hermione waved a hand in the air. "He's also my step-grandson, and if he's rude to me Narcissa will deal with him. He's perfect."
"A perfect wanker," Harry retorted.
Hermione eyed Harry speculatively. "How do you know?"
"I meant that he's a git," Harry snapped.
"That doesn't matter," Hermione said airily. "Let's send him an owl and see if he replies."
/\/\/\/\/\
Getting owls from Grang—er, his step-grandmum, was definitely a new experience for Draco. He was still trying to wrap his head around the whole idea, but it was a struggle. He tried to think of Keeper Black in the most formal way possible—even giving her all the honorifics in his head—because he was terrified that he would accidentally call her 'Granger' in front of his mother, or worse, his grandfather.
The owl demanded a reply and he wasn't sure what to do, but Mother and Father were out doing some last minute Christmas shopping so he couldn't ask them. He couldn't just ignore an owl from the Black Keeper. That would be incredibly disrespectful. With a sigh of resignation, he replied.
They had arranged to meet one another at a café on Diagon Alley. Draco had not expected to be met by Potter and the Black Keeper who was not wearing her robes, and had absolutely no protection… except Potter. Uneasiness coiled through Draco's belly. What on earth was the witch thinking?
"Let me see if I understand you." Draco leaned back in his chair and slung an arm over it with studied carelessness. "Potter here needs a fake girlfriend to throw Weaselette off the scent… and you immediately thought of me?"
"Well, not you," Keeper Black amended. "We need someone who isn't a friend of ours; someone who would be willing to pretend to be Harry's fake girlfriend, and understand that it's just for show."
Draco snorted. "This is a horrible idea," he muttered.
"I know that," Keeper Black huffed indignantly.
"Hey!" Potter protested.
"However," Draco murmured almost to himself. "I do have one friend who might… might… be willing to help out."
"Who?" Potter asked warily.
"Pansy," Draco replied. He pursed his lips. "I'll have to owl her, and it will probably take at least several pairs of new shoes."
"Parkinson?" Potter screeched.
A calculating expression crossed Keeper Black's face. "Parkinson," she said slowly.
"No," Potter growled. "Hermione… just… no."
"I'm not the one who lied to Ginny and Molly," Keeper Black sniffed and tossed her hair. Then she turned to Draco. "Please contact her and let her know what we need. Harry has plenty of galleons to keep her well-stocked in footwear."
Draco smirked. He doubted anyone could do that. "Very well. And the first day that you'll need her is after Christmas for this Weasley dinner thing?"
"Ah." Keeper Black flushed and shook her head. "Erm, no. I know that this is completely last minute, and very inconvenient, and if she can't do it I understand, but would it be possible for her to come to Black Manor for Christmas dinner?"
It was only through years of training and a hard-won self-control that Draco avoided laughing in Keeper Black's face. That and the knowledge that if his mother ever found out that he'd disrespected her family's Keeper that way Narcissa would probably do something extremely unpleasant to him. Would Pansy be willing to go to Black Manor for Christmas? There were witches who would do almost anything for the opportunity—just for the bragging rights.
Oh, me? I spend Christmas with the Black family and their Keeper. Harry Potter invited me. And you, dear? Did you have to go to your Aunt Hyacinth's again?
"I will have to check with Pansy, but it might be possible," Draco allowed.
"Wonderful," Keeper Black crowed happily. She beamed at him, and then turned her smile on Potter. "Now that all that's settled I think I'll do a bit of Christmas shopping. What do you think your Father would want, Draco? A new cane?"
Draco paled. "Erm, Keeper Black, you can't… you're not… I don't think that's a good idea," he babbled. He was out of his depth.
The thought of letting the Black Family Keeper loose on Diagon Alley without her formal robes or any protection was enough to give him heart palpitations. He'd only seen his grandfather truly angry once when he'd been a child, but once was enough.
Keeper Black frowned at him. "Why not?"
Draco turned to Potter and glared. Potter frowned at him and then looked at Hermione.
"I think Malfoy's anticipating how upset your husbands would be," Potter explained.
Keeper Black nibbled on her lower lip, and a thoughtful expression entered her eyes. "That's true," she murmured. "I was so worried about you that I forgot to leave them a note."
All the blood drained from Draco's face. "You mean that no one knows you're here right now except for me and Potter?" He hissed at her. "Mother of Merlin, witch!"
"Well, I'm sorry," Keeper Black snapped. "I've spent almost half my life worrying about Harry and trying to keep him out of trouble. It isn't as though I can just shut that off!"
"You can't," Draco admitted with a grimace. "Potter is Sirius' godson."
"We should probably go then," Keeper Black said with a sigh. She stood up and turned to Draco. "Thank you so much for all your help, Draco."
"It was my honour and privilege, Keeper Black," Draco murmured and bowed deeply. Then he straightened and frowned at her. "You don't think I'm going to let you leave with just Potter for protection, do you, Keeper Black?"
Keeper Black made a face at him. "You have to stop that before I hex you," she complained.
"Stop what?" Draco asked.
Keeper Black waved a hand at him. "The super formal language. You can call me Hermione, you know. Your mother does."
Draco winced. "I know, but you had not given me permission to address you that way."
"I give you permission now," Keeper Black snapped and rolled her eyes at him. "Please call me Hermione."
"Okay, Hermione," Draco said. Then he glared at her. "I'm still not letting you traipse off with just Potter."
"Just Potter?" Potter huffed indignantly. "Look here, you twitchy ferret—"
"Harry," Kee—erm, Hermione said with a warning look. "Fine. Whatever. We'll Apparate to Grimmauld Place and use Harry's Floo. His is one of the only ones keyed to Black Manor."
"That sounds fine," Draco muttered.
"What if I don't want the poncey git at Grimmauld Place," Potter protested.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Then you get to explain all of it to Sirius."
"Fine. Come on, Malfoy." Potter grumbled and stood.
As Hermione turned to leave the café, she was doused in water.
"Abomination!" A witch that looked vaguely familiar hissed at Hermione. "Four wizards? And a father and his sons? Disgusting!"
Draco automatically inserted himself in front of Hermione who had pulled out her wand and was trying to siphon the water off of herself.
"'Ere now, don't you speak to Keeper Black that way," an indignant café patron exclaimed. She got to her feet and marched over to harangue the water-thrower.
"That's very kind of you," Hermione said over Draco's shoulder. "But really, I don't need—"
"Whore!" The water-thrower screeched. "Incestuous tart!"
"What?" Hermione's voice rose incredulously.
"How dare you!" Potter bellowed from somewhere to Draco's right. He was echoed by a large number of patrons who had surged to their feet in an angry group.
"Not now, Potter," Draco growled at him. "Hermione's safety first."
Potter seemed to shake himself. "Right. Of course. Come on, Hermione."
"She's not even a real Keeper," the water-thrower cried.
The angry café mob roared in fury and converged on the water-thrower.
It was at that point that everything went to hell. Draco, throwing all caution to the wind, grabbed Hermione about the waist, pulled her against him, and grabbed Potter by the collar of his shirt. He tried to force his way through the crowd, and once Potter realized what Draco was trying to do he did his best to help. The crowd moved around them, jostling them, and Potter and Draco attempted to shield Hermione as much as possible. Someone had stepped heavily on Draco's foot at one point, and he feared that it might be broken, but he would figure that out later.
When it descended into an all-out brawl, they had almost gotten free of the crowd. Then two brawlers knocked into them, and one of them punched Potter in the kidneys. Potter went down like a felled tree, and then Hermione panicked. She flung herself into the brawl to get to Potter, and Draco threw himself after her. Someone stepped on his hand, and someone else kicked him in the ribs, but getting to Hermione was his only priority. He fell to his knees beside her, both of them kneeling over Potter who was gasping in pain.
"Can you Apparate?" Draco demanded.
Potter nodded. "Yeah," he panted.
Draco turned to Hermione. "Can you take me Side-Along? I don't know where Grimmauld Place is, and I don't think that Potter can manage more than himself at the moment."
"Yes," she whispered.
They both helped Potter to his feet. Whoever had been standing next to them didn't realize that they were still there, and pulled back to punch someone else. Instead, they ended up punching Hermione in the face. Potter growled and was set to throw himself at the wizard when Hermione put a hand on his arm.
"We have to go," she told him, one hand pressed to her right eye.
Potter Apparated first, and then Hermione grabbed Draco's arm and Apparated the two of them. When they arrived at Grimmauld Place, Draco threw up. He hated Side-Along with a passion, but it had been his only option. He could feel Hermione patting his back carefully and hovering over him, and he waved her off.
"I'm fine," he snapped. "It's the Side-Along. It always makes me sick. Give me a minute."
"Thank you, Draco," Hermione said in a small voice.
"Yeah," Potter ground out through clenched teeth. He was clutching his side, and Draco assumed that he was still in a lot of pain. "Thanks Malfoy."
"Thank me later," He muttered. "Let's get inside before anything else happens."
Potter shoved a piece of paper at him.
Harry Potter lives at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.
Once Potter's home appeared, they hurried inside. Kreacher hurried out to see them.
"Master Harry! Kreacher was so worried," Kreacher fretted. He stared at all of them with an expression of horror. "Master Harry and Missy Keeper has been hurt! This is all Kreacher's fault!"
Before anyone could say anything, Kreacher hurried from the room pulling on his ears and wailing. Potter sighed.
"Do you still have that jar of Weasley's bruise paste?" Hermione asked Harry.
Harry nodded. "Yeah, in the kitchen."
"Sit," Hermione commanded. "And take off your shirt. I want to see how badly you were hurt."
To Draco's complete shock, Potter did exactly as he was told. He sat down on an ottoman, and pulled off his shirt. Draco could see the reddened skin near Potter's kidneys and winced in sympathy.
"He got you good," Draco told him.
"I know," Potter admitted.
A few minutes later, Hermione bustled out with a tea tray. She bullied Draco into sitting down and taking a cup of tea. Then she handed a cup to Potter before she turned her attention to Potter's lower back.
"Merlin, Harry," Hermione muttered. She pulled out her wand and ran some basic diagnostic spells. "Your kidney is lacerated," she told him when she was done.
"What does that mean?" Potter demanded.
Hermione sighed. "Well it isn't good news. You'll need several healing potions for that. I don't think you've got any of them here; we'll have to take you home for those. In the meantime, I'm going to put some bruise paste on your back. It'll help a bit."
The bruise paste wasn't in the regular WWW packaging, and Draco assumed that it must be something that the Weasleys had brewed up for Potter personally. Hermione unscrewed the cap and began smearing the paste onto Potter's back carefully. Potter hissed and flinched in pain.
"Sorry," Hermione cried.
"Don't worry about it," Harry managed to get out between clenched teeth. "Just finish it."
Draco heard the Floo activate, and he turned toward the hall, but Hermione waved a hand absently as she focused on Potter's back.
"It's only keyed to a very small list of people," Hermione said absently. "Whoever it is, is friendly."
"That would be a matter of opinion, poppet," Sirius said in a cold, quiet voice.
/\/\/\/\/\
The sound of her husband's voice… his absolutely furious voice… made her Hermione whirl around in surprise, bruise paste jar still clutched in her hand. All four of her wizards were standing just inside the library door. Their focus shifted to her, and she watched as they all turned pale and stared at her in horror. Orion moved forward first. He reached her in just a couple strides, and his hands came up to hover near her face as though he were afraid to touch her and cause her pain. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, and he seemed to almost vibrate with rage.
"Who did this?" Orion hissed at her.
Hermione started and her hand came up to her right eye. "Oh. That. Um… I don't know actually."
"You don't know." Orion stared at her disbelieving, and then turned to glare down at Harry.
"What happened, Draco," Cygnus demanded in an icy voice that made Malfoy visibly flinch.
"I received an Owl from Keeper Black," Draco said to his feet.
"Hermione," she snapped.
Draco tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Mother wasn't home, and I didn't want to be rude so I agreed to meet with her in Diagon Alley."
A low growl emanated from somewhere among the Black wizards.
"I didn't know she'd be alone," Draco blurted out.
"Harry was with me," Hermione snapped. She noticed a tic near Orion's eye and sighed.
"We were at a café, and when we went to leave somebody accosted your Keeper," Draco explained.
"Accosted?" Orion repeated under his breath and his gaze zeroed in on her right eye.
"She threw water on me and yelled at me," Hermione clarified. "She didn't actually touch me."
"Then the café patrons got upset… and it all went downhill from there," Draco finished with a sigh.
"No one actually tried to hurt me," Hermione tried to explain. "It was just an accident."
Orion ground his teeth and a muscle jumped in his jaw. "Hermione," he growled.
"It's my fault," Potter blurted out. "I was upset, and I owled Hermione, and she came immediately."
"You and I will discuss that later, Harry," Sirius said coldly.
Harry nodded miserably.
"We're going home. Now," Orion growled.
Hermione frowned up at him and then winced when it put pressure on her bruised eye. All four of her wizards flinched, and Hermione sighed in resignation.
"Fine, but Harry's coming with us. He and Draco were trying to act as a shield for me, and Harry ended up with a lacerated kidney. I think Draco's got some injuries, too, but I haven't checked him yet," Hermione informed them tartly.
That information seemed to slightly mollify her husbands, but there was still a murderous glint in Orion's eyes.
"They were not entirely successful," Orion muttered, his eyes fixed on her face.
Hermione shrugged. "Someone punched Harry in the kidneys and he went down. I didn't even think—I just went after him like I always have done. It was when Draco was trying to help me get Harry to his feet that someone punched me. They didn't mean to… I don't think they realized we were there."
"Let's go home," Cygnus repeated.
/\/\/\/\/\
Once they returned home, a stilted, awkward silence settled over Hermione's wizards. They watched her dose Potter, hug him gently and send him home. Cygnus had run the diagnostic spells on Draco, and then dosed him with Skele-Gro for his broken foot and cracked ribs. He hugged his grandson briefly, and Hermione thought she heard Cygnus murmur a thank you to Draco. Then Cygnus sent Draco home as well and it was just them.
"Can I see the letter from Harry?" Sirius asked in the same icy, cold voice that all four wizards had been using.
Hermione had gotten used to her wizards' ways. They were a passionate group of men, and they tended to be less reserved than most purebloods. They expressed themselves freely. This… this stiffly formal manner was more upsetting than if they had all taken turns yelling at her. She took a deep breath, and fought the urge to burst into tears. Silently, Hermione pulled the letter from the pocket of her jeans and handed it over.
"Oh fuck," Sirius growled and he handed the letter to Orion. "She wouldn't have had a choice… not with the letter worded that way."
Orion glared at the letter in his hands. He ground his teeth again, and that muscle twitched in his jaw again. "You will deal with your godson," Orion growled.
"Yes," Sirius agreed. He turned to Hermione with a worried frown. "What was it? Harry's okay, isn't he?"
A dull throb started in Hermione's temples, which was made worse by her bruised eyes. Hermione closed her eyes briefly against the pain and then turned to look at Sirius.
"Yes, he's fine. It was… an embarrassing situation so he didn't want to put in an owl in case it was intercepted," she muttered. "He wanted my advice. I wasn't sure how to help him, but I thought Draco might know someone who could."
All four wizards looked disgruntled at that. Hermione knew them well enough now to know that they agreed with Harry in theory, and they were irritated about it.
"Why were you in Diagon Alley?" Regulus blurted out.
Hermione rubbed at her temples and then winced when she touched her bruise. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her wizards flinch.
"I… I can't go to Malfoy Manor," Hermione muttered.
"We know that," Orion said stiffly. "We would never expect you to go there."
"And Harry didn't feel comfortable adding Draco to his wards," Hermione continued. "Diagon Alley seemed to be a good neutral place to meet."
"In future, you will not leave the Manor without at least two of us present," Orion snapped.
"Or Narcissa and Andromeda," Hermione retorted with a scowl. She wasn't willing to push her luck beyond that at the moment. Today had proved that she needed some kind of protection—at least until they cleared up this whole mess.
Orion seemed to have some kind of internal struggle, but finally he nodded. "Narcissa and Andromeda are acceptable escorts," he acceded.
"You should also wear the Keeper's robes," Cygnus added with a small frown at her Quidditch jersey. "Purebloods are trained to recognize them, and there is an ingrained response to the robes. If you'd been wearing them, a ring of wizards would have formed around you to protect you. They wouldn't be able to help themselves."
"I hadn't expected to leave the Manor," Hermione admitted. "When I got Harry's letter… I just left."
"You should have told at least one of us," Regulus blurted out and then flushed.
Hermione snorted at that. "How could I when you were sealed into your super-secret, No-Keepers-Allowed meeting," she snapped.
Orion moved to stand next to her. "We were not excluding you," he murmured.
"That wasn't how it seemed," Hermione muttered.
"Memory recall is a delicate thing," Cygnus explained. "It is easiest if it is done in a quiet room with no distractions, and you, Hermione, will always draw our attention."
Hermione flushed.
"Merlin," Sirius groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. "This day has just been one misunderstanding after another."
"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered. Her eyes burned, but she breathed deeply and throttled down her tears.
Today could have been so much worse—Hermione understood that. She had a feeling that if her life had been threatened, Draco would have stepped in front of her and taken whatever curse was sent her way. That Harry would do so went without saying. She was exhausted and emotionally wrung out.
Cygnus shook his head at her. "We are just as sorry," he said gently. "If we had done things a bit differently… if Potter had been slightly less oblique in his notes… if Bellatrix hadn't ensured that you would never willing step into Malfoy Manor… then today might have gone very differently."
The rest of the day had a stiff, formal feel to it that Hermione hated. Hermione had retreated briefly to her rooms where Jinx had helped her apply bruise paste to her eye. None of her wizards had offered to help her with her eye, and that bothered her. Jinx carefully helped her get the jersey off without touching her tender skin, and then the little house-elf gasped.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Missy Keeper also has a bruise on her shoulder," Jinx muttered and then the house-elf was dabbing bruise paste on her shoulder.
Hermione looked down at her shoulder in surprise. "I didn't even feel that one," she muttered.
"It is not being as bad as Missy Keeper's eye," Jinx explained.
Once they were done, Jinx helped her into a set of witch's robes with a wide neckline so that she would be able to get it off easily without causing herself further injury.
Four solemn, subdued wizards hovered around Hermione for the remainder of the day. They followed her into every room, and ranged themselves around her strategically. None of them were close enough to touch her, but none of them were willing to move farther than 10 feet away from her either. It was beyond strange, and it was frustrating Hermione to no end. Finally, she couldn't handle it any longer.
"I'm going to bed," Hermione announced.
Her husbands stood when she did, and trailed her out of the parlour and up the stairs. They hovered, just out of reach. Fighting the overwhelming urge to scream and start throwing things, Hermione opened the door to her room, slipped in, and shut it behind her. She slid down the door and sat on the floor. She put her head in her hands, carefully, and took several, deep shuddering breaths.
It had been weeks since Hermione had slept in her own room, but it felt like forever. She tossed and turned for hours, unable to sleep. She dozed fitfully, but kept jerking awake, gasping for air and clutching at her chest. Finally, she gave up. She grabbed a robe and slipped it on before she left her room.
Something was wrong between Hermione and her husbands, and she decided that the best course of action would be to go straight to the source, so to speak. As the paterfamilias, Orion would be the most likely wizard to speak to. Her eyes went to his bed, but it was empty. It hadn't even been slept in. Hermione blinked. Where was Orion? Hermione bit her lip and frowned.
The first place that came to her mind was his study. She left Orion's room quietly and went downstairs. When she pushed the door to Orion's study open, she spotted him immediately. He was sitting in one of the large, over-stuffed chairs in front of the fireplace. There was a tumbler in his hand, and the familiar scent of Firewhiskey wafted over to her. Hermione moved forward cautiously.
"I beg your pardon, my lady," Orion whispered once she got close enough.
"For what?" Hermione asked.
"We failed you," Orion said in a broken voice. "We were given to you, bound to you… and we failed."
"Orion, no," Hermione protested. She moved even closer, but she froze when he shifted away from her touch. "Why won't you touch me?" She asked in a forlorn voice.
"I don't deserve to," Orion replied.
"That's ridiculous," Hermione retorted. A hitching sob escaped her. "I need you, all of you, and all you've done all day is pull away from me."
Orion froze at that. "My lady," he said miserably.
Hermione took his tumbler of Firewhiskey and set it on the little endtable next to his chair. Then she carefully sat in Orion's lap and cuddled against his chest. The solid muscle under her cheek was reassuring, comforting. It reminded her that Orion was here, and that she was not alone. After several, long moments, Orion's arms wrapped around Hermione and he pulled her securely against him.
"You were injured," Orion muttered into her hair.
"I could be injured anywhere," Hermione argued. She pulled back so that she could look into Orion's eyes. "I could trip and fall down the stairs. I could slam my hand in my closet door."
Orion's arms tightened around her. "Our bond drives us to protect you," he whispered. "The thought of you hurt makes me ill, but the reality… the reality is so much worse."
"Orion." Hermione cupped his face in her hands. "It's just a bruise. Jinx helped me apply bruise paste. It will probably be gone in 24 hours. Fred and George are dead clever when it comes to this sort of thing."
"It could have been worse," He rasped.
Hermione kissed him gently. "It wasn't," she whispered against his lips.
"I can't… I can't lose you, Hermione," he ground out.
"You won't," she promised. "I'm not going anywhere, Orion."
Orion buried his face in the junction of her neck and took several deep, shuddering breaths. Hermione ran her fingers through his hair, carding it gently. Orion cupped her left cheek and kissed her gently, hesitant to do anything to make her injuries worse.
"Hermione," he groaned helplessly.
"It's okay, Orion," she promised him. "I'm not going to break."
That must have been the right thing to say because then Orion's hand slipped to the back of her neck and he was kissing her fiercely, plundering her mouth. Hermione shifted so that she was straddling Orion's lap, and she could kiss him back just as fiercely. His erection pressed against her, and Hermione rocked against him, whimpering into his mouth.
"Merlin, witch," Orion growled.
"Please," Hermione begged, clutching at his shoulders.
Carefully, as though she were spun glass, Orion helped her out of her robe and nightgown. He set her down gently just long enough to tug off his robes, and then he pulled her back into his lap. The feel of hard muscle flexing beneath Hermione's hands made her fingers itch to touch every inch. She leaned forward and kissed the line of his collar bone. The warm flesh under her lips goosepimpled, and Orion shuddered.
Gently, Orion explored Hermione's skin. She heard his soft gasp and a muffled oath when he found the bruise on her shoulder, and her heart sank. He surprised her by gently kissing the bruise and moving on to her shoulder. His fingers stroked over her skin, teasing her. Orion's large hands slid down her back to grip her hips firmly. Hermione wrapped her arms around Orion's neck and kissed him deeply. There was a sense of closeness, of intimacy, that made Hermione sigh into her kiss.
Orion's grey eyes were fixed on her with an intensity that made her shiver. Wantonly, she rubbed herself against him again, and he groaned. Gently, he nudged her, holding her up off of him with both hands. With a wicked smirk that made his pupils flare, Hermione reached between them and grasped his cock in her hand, positioning him carefully. At a nod from her, Orion slowly let go so that she could impale herself on him. Hermione hissed at the feeling of fullness, her eyelashes fluttering as she concentrated on breathing.
The feeling of Orion deep inside of her, his large body surrounding her, filled Hermione with a sense of rightness. At the same time, it felt as though her body was on fire. All of her nerve endings were tingling, and all she could do was focus on the wizard that was sitting rigidly beneath her with his eyes tightly shut.
"Orion?" Hermione whispered.
When she spoke his eyes snapped open and his pupils were so blown that there was only a tiny ring of grey surrounding them. His fingers flexed on her hips, and his nostrils flared.
"Hermione," he said in a voice so rough and raw that it sent shivers down her spine.
"I'm going to move now, if that's okay with you," she said cautiously.
"Merlin, yes," he groaned and surged up into her.
Hermione threw her head back and cried out. They moved together, finding their own rhythm, and she was almost overcome with sensory overload. The feel of Orion's muscles bunching and moving beneath her fingers, the sound of his ragged breathing, the salty taste of his skin, the spicy clove scent of his aftershave potion, and the sight of him straining against her were all too much. Hermione clung to his shoulders, just trying to hold on.
/\/\/\/\/\
For weeks, Orion had dreamed of this moment. Ever since he had met his Keeper, he had been drawn to her. Once Orion had grown to know Hermione, to see what kind of a witch she was—his desire for her had grown even more. Her hair, her eyes, her mannerisms—the way she spoke, the way she walked—everything about her drove him mad. The Malfoy's Yule ball and that gods-bedamned dress had made him hard enough to pound nails. He had wanted nothing more than to throw her over his shoulder and run off with her, but a lifetime of being drilled in his duty to his House had restrained him from giving in to his desires.
Now, here she was, astride him, her beautiful curls down her back, her eyes watching him while she bit her lip. Her skin felt like silk under his hands. He leaned up and took a nipple in his mouth, revelling in the whimpers that fell from Hermione's lips.
Every sound that he wrung out of her, every gasp and sigh, ratcheted up his own passion. The already fading bruise around her right eye made his fingers clench on her hips. He had almost lost her today. The thought of losing Hermione made his chest ache, and he clung to her, breathing in the scent of her. It was only the tight, wet heat that surrounded him, her needy whimpers, and her fingers digging into his shoulders, that kept him grounded. She was here, she was safe, and she was with him in the most primal way possible.
"Please," she gasped.
Curls clung to the skin of her neck, stuck to the light sheen of sweat that coated her skin. Hermione was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her to him, and took her nipple in his mouth again. With his other hand, he slipped his hand between them, his thumb rubbing against her clit. Hermione's hands threaded her fingers into his hair and tugged. She whimpered, her movements becoming more and more erratic. Her walls fluttered around him, gripping him like a vise. She threw her head back and cried out.
Orion's orgasm exploded through him all at once. He moved his hands to grip Hermione's hips tightly and he thrust up into her, roaring his release to the ceiling. He collapsed in the chair, Hermione still astride him, panting for breath. Once Hermione caught her breath she pressed little kisses against his neck. He could feel her smiling against his skin.
"What?" Orion demanded roughly.
"I didn't break," she murmured.
"I think I may have bruised your hips a bit," Orion admitted.
"Then you'll just have to rub bruise paste into it, won't you," Hermione purred into the skin of his throat.
"It would be my honour and privilege, Hermione," Orion murmured and stroked his hands down her back.
