A/N: Now as I have mentioned, there may be some skipping ahead. Thank you for your patience.
Official Notice: This is a revised version of this chapter because so many of you took the time to expressive your feelings constructively. See? I do listen. However, whichever of you that said you didn't realize that this story had humor in it…that really hurt. T-T
HG/HP/HB
Summer, 1979
"Mr. Malfoy, I must say that I'm very surprised to see you here," Albus Dumbledore said mildly, blinking at the young man sitting across from him over his spectacles. Lucius Malfoy quirked one platinum brow and just looked at him coolly.
"Indeed," Malfoy drawled arrogantly, his lip curled slightly in a sneer. Dumbledore frowned just slightly.
"It would be good to know why you have chosen to grace me with your company today," Dumbledore said with just a touch of frost in his voice.
"Horcruxes," Malfoy explained coolly. Dumbledore sat up straighter.
"My dear Lucius," Dumbledore began, visibly upset, "I am rather disturbed to hear that you're familiar with such dark magic."
"I didn't say that I was familiar with it, Headmaster," Malfoy snapped, his voice glacially cold, and his sneer slightly more pronounced. "You asked why I have come to you today, that is why."
"I must confess then that I find myself confused," Dumbledore said finally, sliding off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Malfoy stopped lounging indolently in his chair and leaned toward the Headmaster.
"Voldemort, or Riddle if you will, has made several of them," Malfoy said tersely, his silver eyes flat and unreadable. Dumbledore's breath caught in his throat. What exactly was young Malfoy saying? If he knew of this, he had basically just confessed to being a Death Eater. Or was the boy trying to taunt him, to see what Dumbledore knew? Could he prove these claims?
"If you could prove this," Dumbledore said quietly, allowing just a hint of doubt to color his tone. Malfoy tossed a leather journal on the Headmaster's desk and quirked one platinum brow at him, smirking slightly. Dumbledore stared at the thing on his desk, an expression of distaste on his face. "This is one of them?"
"Yes," Malfoy said firmly. Dumbledore looked up at the young man across from him and frowned slightly.
"Why are you here, Lucius?" Dumbledore asked softly. Lucius looked at him for several long minutes. He stood and took off his outer robes. Then he unbuttoned his shirt cuff and pushed up his sleeve, turning his arm over so that the Headmaster could see the Dark Mark that stood out starkly against the pale alabaster of his skin.
"This makes me a Death Eater," he said in a flat voice. "I joined because it was required of me by my father. Threats were made against my family, and this was the only way to save them."
"And you want out?" Dumbledore asked cautiously with a calculating look on his face. Malfoy's expression tightened slightly and the sneer was back. The young man started to unbutton his shirt, revealing a pale, but well-muscled chest. Dumbledore wondered if this might become the strangest interview he'd ever had. When Malfoy's shirt was halfway unbuttoned, he pulled it farther open so that Dumbledore could see twin pawprints on either side of Malfoy's collarbone.
"These make me a miles in the Order of the Lioness, a rebellion group within the Death Eaters. We are interested in working with your Order of the Phoenix to take down Voldemort. We had to wait until we had all of his Horcruxes so that we could prove that we spoke the truth," Malfoy announced with a faint hint of pride in voice.
Dumbledore stared at the young man in front of him with a sense of awe. He had had no idea that such a group even existed. There were rumors of another resistance group, but they appeared to be focused on protecting the families attacked by the Death Eaters, not on taking down Voldemort. To be honest, Dumbledore hadn't even considered working with any of those other groups because he wasn't sure if they could be trusted. He wasn't sure if he trusted Malfoy if it came to that.
"I'll need you to come to an Order meeting to discuss this with my people," Dumbledore said slowly.
"I would like to bring my lieutenants," Malfoy said coolly as he rebuttoned his shirt and slid back on his robes.
"How many?" Dumbledore asked cautiously.
"Just two," Malfoy replied, his silver eyes watching. Dumbledore nodded.
"That should be acceptable," Dumbledore said at last.
"We are willing to be questioned under veritaserum, but only to pre-approved questions. We have each of us taken Unbreakable Vows to protect the integrity of our group, its members and its objectives, and I would hate to see it all destroyed because someone phrased a question poorly. Make a list of the questions you want answered before your meeting," Malfoy said coolly. Dumbledore nodded again, reevaluating the man before him.
"How can I contact you?" Dumbledore asked him. Malfoy snorted slightly and the sneer was back in place.
"You can't really. My father's the one on the Board of Governors. You have no real reason or excuse to contact me," Malfoy pointed out.
"How do I contact your group then? We must arrange a meeting time, must we not?" Dumbledore asked. Malfoy straightened his robes and turned to the Headmaster.
"Leave word with your brother. It would not be untoward for I, or one of the other milites to go grab a pint at his establishment. In three days, we'll check in with Aberforth. If he has no message, we'll assume you could not get your Order to agree to work with us. If that occurs, we'll need the Horcrux back. It is important that all of them be destroyed at the same time, or Riddle will be alerted to what's happening. We do not want him aware of us before it's time," Malfoy informed his former Headmaster in an arrogant drawl.
"You're really going to attempt to destroy him?" Dumbledore asked curiously. Malfoy's silver eyes flashed.
"If you knew what sorts of atrocities he encourages…you would not say that," Malfoy said flatly.
"What would I say?" The older man could not contain his curiosity. This meeting had gotten more and more fascinating the longer it progressed.
"You would want to know why we waited so long to do so," Malfoy replied icily.
"I see," Dumbledore said faintly. "I thank you for coming to me, Mr. Malfoy, and I will have word for you in three days' time."
Lucius Malfoy stalked arrogantly out of the Headmaster's office, his robes swishing impressively around his legs. Dumbledore sat in his chair and stared at the…thing on his desk. He had not expected this, he truly hadn't. He knew of Horcruxes, certainly, but the very idea was so repugnant to him that it hadn't occurred to him that Voldemort would ever create one, let alone several. He pulled out his wand and performed several magical diagnostic spells. When he was done he sat there pale and shaking. There was a Horcrux sitting on his desk, and according to Lucius Malfoy, there were more. There was apparently a group of Death Eaters who didn't want to be Death Eaters and who were willing to overthrow Voldemort. It was a lot to take in. He took a candy from the dish on his desk and sucked on it thoughtfully. In the span of a few hours he had had his whole understanding of the current situation knocked arse over teakettle. He needed to talk to the other Order members about this as soon as possible.
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HG/HP/HB
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Griselda Marchbanks sat at a table flanked by the committee chairwomen of the Ladies' Aide Society. At the moment, they were all wearing their combat robes, which were all black and rather less robe-like than normal. Each woman's escape portkey was prominently displayed on her chest. The assembled women's faces were carefully neutral. Sitting across from them was one of their own, and perhaps their most important asset, Hermione Black. Behind her, at parade rest, were three young men that all of the ladies present knew well, at least by sight.
"You were aware when we started the Ladies' Aide Society that I had inside information," Hermione began carefully, looking each woman directly in the eyes for a moment. The ladies all nodded at one another. They had known—it was Hermione's information that allowed them to rescue as many children and families as they had. Sometimes they failed, or things were bungled, but without Hermione's help the number of children lost would number among the thousands, if not tens of thousands.
"Your information was the key element that allowed us to do what we've done," Griselda agreed staunchly. Hermione looked at all of the women without shame or fear in her eyes.
"I wasn't sure in the beginning, how to help the families that were targeted. I knew I couldn't do it alone, but I knew I had to do something. You ladies helped me make my goals a reality, and I thank you. In the past, our main focus has been the protection of our magical families, but I come before you now because we need to make a direct assault against Voldemort," Hermione said flatly. The ladies flinched as one when she said Voldemort's name.
"Why haven't we before? Attacked You-know-who, I mean?" Mrs. Fenwick asked her fellow chairwomen curiously. Laurel Bagnold, chairwoman of the wards committee frowned slightly.
"He didn't have any perceived weaknesses," Miss Bagnold said flatly. "We need something, some weak point to punch through in the initial assault and throw him off balance. We couldn't determine one."
"And these men, they're Death Eaters, yes?" Mrs. Bones said with a moue of distaste on her features. The young men standing behind Hermione Black kept their faces neutral and calm.
"Yes…and no," Hermione said finally. "The three men behind me are each a miles, a soldier or knight if you prefer, in a group that is attempting to overthrow Voldemort from the inside. It was decided that from the inside would be the best way, if not the only way, to determine that fatal weak point you were talking about Laurel."
"And you've discovered it?" Laurel Bagnold was almost bouncing in her seat with glee. Her brother, his wife and their two small children had been murdered by Death Eaters.
Hermione tried not to blame herself for each death, but it was difficult. Could she have done something, anything, to make things different? Her visions were occasionally merely a flash of something, and she was unable to grasp enough pertinent information to help. Of everyone, her milites understood the most. They too were consumed by guilt at times, blaming themselves for the needless deaths of innocent witches, wizards, muggles and their children. Sometimes forced to stand back and watch people die because the ultimate goal of destroying Voldemort could not be abandoned.
"Yes, we have," Hermione said softly, looking into each woman's eyes again she began to outline exactly how they planned to take out Voldemort. When she was finished her milites moved forward in unison and bared their chests so that the women present could see the paw prints on their collarbones. "Any that you capture marked thusly is on our side. They are part of the Order of the Lioness and all of them have taken oaths of fealty and sworn Unbreakable Vows to help take down Voldemort."
"The Order of the Lioness?" Griselda Marchbanks asked dryly, glaring sternly at the three young men before her who had all been Slytherins. "Wouldn't the Order of the Serpent be more apropos?"
"That would be his idea of a hilarious joke," Hermione said flatly pointing accusingly at Lucius Malfoy. He smirked slightly and Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
"If you would explain?" Augusta Longbottom asked severely, frowning at them. Hermione nodded.
"Of course, Mrs. Longbottom. I said that they have all sworn fealty oaths and Unbreakable Vows, but I didn't say that they were all to me. Mr. Malfoy finds it amusing to tease me with his Order of the Lioness," Hermione explained quickly.
"So you are the Lioness?" Mrs. Jones asked. Hermione nodded again.
"Yes, ma'am, I am." Hermione said with a quiet dignity.
"I've heard rumors about you, but I thought it was just that," Mrs. Jones said thoughtfully. As the head of their intelligence committee, Lobelia Jones was responsible for sifting through all the intelligence their witches gathered and gleaning the wheat from the chaff.
"No, ma'am, our domina is quite real," Regulus Black said with quiet pride. Mrs. Jones eyes widened.
"The domina and the Lioness are the same person?" She asked sharply. Hermione didn't say anything, but it wasn't necessary. Lobelia's eyes narrowed on the young woman in front of her. "He knows about you, and he wants you badly. I would recommend that you are not part of the assault team."
"We would recommend that as well," Lucius Malfoy agreed coolly. Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly and then she smiled tightly at the ladies sitting across from her.
"Of course," Hermione said flatly. Mrs. Jones watched her for several minutes.
"I'm firm on this, Mrs. Black," Lobelia said solemnly. "I don't want to see you there as part of the assault team."
"You won't Mrs. Jones," Hermione replied coldly.
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HG/HP/HB
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Pandemonium broke out in the Order of the Phoenix meeting when Dumbledore led in Lucius Malfoy flanked by Severus Snape and Regulus Black. James and Sirius were not able to be present at the meeting, they were away on a mission for the DMLE, which was probably for the best. Remus watched and listened silently. He was the only person sitting in the room who also bore two paw prints on either side of his collarbone, and much of what they had to say was old hat to him. He knew exactly where they were getting their information from, and why they'd made the choices they had, but he wasn't about to stand up in the middle of an Order meeting and announce it to everyone. It was a good thing Sirius wasn't here. He definitely wouldn't want to be reminded of the fact that his wife had put her hands on Lucius Malfoy's bare skin…even if she had been a lioness at the time. He still remembered the full-on temper tantrum that Sirius had thrown when he'd found out that Lucius Malfoy was one of Hermione's, um, Knights of the Lady or whatever it was they called it. When Sirius had finally calmed down, he'd decided to pretend that Malfoy basically didn't exist. He trusted Hermione and that was that. Remus had asked him about that later, when Sirius was good and drunk and less likely to flip out or go agro. Sirius had become quite solemn and quiet, and he had explained that the natural bond made it impossible for them to betray one another in any sense of the word. Remus shook his head and turned his attention back to the situation at hand. All three…milites…were telling the complete truth, they weren't even trying to dissemble. Then again, Dumbledore was only able to ask certain questions.
"Why are we not allowed to ask any other questions?" Moody wanted to know. The three milites looked at one another and Lucius turned toward the grizzled Auror.
"We've sworn fealty oaths and Unbreakable Vows to protect the Order of the Lioness," Lucius said coolly. "If you ask the wrong question while we're under veritaserum...well, the results would be most unpleasant for all of us."
"And the purpose of your Order is the destruction of Voldemort and his Death Eaters?" Emmeline Vance asked with a dark frown.
"Yes," Lucius replied simply.
"Why have you come to us now?" Benjy Fenwick asked curiously.
"Several reasons," Lucius said after several moments. "I first approached Dumbledore because we have acquired all of Voldemort's Horcruxes, and are ready for a direct assault. As part of our plan, we have come to you, and also to the other group in direct opposition to Voldemort to encourage a direct assault. The other group is, er, enthusiastic about joining with us and attacking Voldemort as soon as possible."
"Who is this other group?" Moody demanded with a sharp frown. Lucius smirked.
"The Ladies' Aide Society," he drawled with no small amount of satisfaction. Many of those fine ladies' family members were sitting in this room. The looks of shock and consternation were priceless. Now to twist the knife a little deeper. "We approached them as soon as possible because aside from ourselves, they posed the greatest threat to Voldemort's plans. He is most displeased with their ability to foil him."
"Are you trying to tell me that a group of women that get together and make quilts are more of a threat to Voldemort than we are?" Charlus Potter asked sharply, an odd look on his face. All three of the milites burst out laughing.
"What?" Moody growled at the three young men. Lucius coughed and regained control almost immediately.
"You've obviously never seen them in action. They're amazing—the most organized, tightly run operations I've ever seen. They've got this charm that makes it hard to see them, it's not disillusionment, but you sure as hell can't aim at what you can't see. On top of that, they usually use strike and retreat tactics. They don't hang around long enough for long-term engagements. They attack, acquire their objective and leave. It's brilliant. They've rescued hundreds, if not thousands of muggleborns and pureblood families," Lucius stated firmly, a hint of admiration in his voice.
"Those ladies," Regulus Black spoke up, his voice calm and neutral, but his gray eyes pinned the older gentlemen where they sat, "saw what was happening around them and decided to do something about it. Their children, their sisters and brothers and parents were being murdered around them and no one was doing anything about it. They decided that that was wrong. The problem that you seem to be having is that they were able to do what you could not or would not."
"My mother," Frank Longbottom began hotly, his face pink, but Severus' deep, silky voice cut him off completely.
"Commander Longbottom is a skilled tactician," he drawled, the merest glimmer of respect in his midnight-black eyes. "She and several of the older ladies have trained their forces mercilessly. Lucius is correct, I have never seen such disciplined fighters. While they have chosen not to engage the enemy directly, they are willing to engage in a frontal assault using their best and most well-trained forces in concert with us."
"They're willing to trust you lot?" Fabian Prewett asked with a frown. Lucius shook his long, platinum-blonde hair.
"No," he disagreed, and slid his shirt to the side, pointing to a clearly visible pawprint. "They trust these marks."
The Order wasn't thrilled, that much was obvious by the end of the meeting. Remus hid a small smile. He agreed with Regulus, most of the people here were irritated that the wives, mothers, sisters and daughters that had been forbidden from joining the Order because it was too 'dangerous' had somehow managed to circumvent their male family members' orders and did more to help the war effort than they had. Dumbledore had had the best intentions, but he hadn't had all the information. Unfortunately, that meant that he was making decisions without really understanding what was truly going on, and therefore was unable to accurately determine the consequences of his choices. Even if one gave him full benefit of the doubt, some of the choices that Dumbledore had made were grievously short-sighted. Remus no longer viewed his former Headmaster as a being incapable of mistakes, and he didn't really feel that his relationship with Dumbledore had suffered much. Rather, he perceived the older man as a human being with all of the foibles thus implied.
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HG/HP/HB
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The Black townhouse in London boasted an excellent Library where Hermione ended up spending many hours researching different issues. Currently, she was trying to find a potion that would have the sort of effect that had been observed in Orion Black. Moste Potente Potions had been almost useless. Regulus had managed to sneak several rare, dark books to her from the Black Library at Grimmauld Place. The Black Catalogue was in the nature of a family grimoire, but it was filled with potions recipes, most of them highly unpleasant in nature. Hermione was sitting at her desk, poring over it carefully when she felt a cold, wet nose touch the back of her neck. She shrieked, bolting out of her chair and whirling quickly her wand out to find a surprised and slightly bashful Sirius.
"Sorry, kitten," he muttered. "I should have done something, stomped my feet or what not."
"Oh, Sirius!" Hermione flung herself into his arms, covering his face with kisses. Then she pulled back slightly and glared at him. "You haven't kept in contact the way you promised! I've been so worried!"
"I've been…mmph…fine, and…mmph…so's James," Sirius tried to explain between enthusiastic kisses from Hermione. He'd been gone for about six weeks, and Hermione's fear for her brother and her husband had ratcheted up a little more each day. Added to that was the fact that she'd missed him terribly and she had his Auror robes and his shirt off of him in under five minutes.
"How did you get this?" Hermione demanded pointing to an angry red scar on the left side of his ribcage. Sirius sighed and pulled her fingers away from the evidence that he'd been hurt and kissed her fingertips.
"Death Eaters," Sirius said shortly.
It had been a long, long time since he had been with Hermione, and her kisses were definitely affecting him. He had her out of her dress and bent over her desk faster than she could credit it. An impatient rip and the scrap of silk that had been her knickers was tossed carelessly over Sirius' shoulder. He slid into her tight, wet heat and they both moaned loudly. The bond flared wide open between them and Sirius was almost overwhelmed by sensations he hadn't felt for six weeks. Rubbing one out was pleasant enough, but it certainly didn't compare to being with another person, and that was vastly different thing from being someone you loved. This, being this close to Hermione, he had missed horribly. She gasped as he stroked inside her, her cheek pressed against the wood of her desktop, her hands curled around the edge of the desk, holding on tightly.
"Missed you," Hermione managed to gasp out at one point, and Sirius leaned forward to nip her shoulder, all the while never missing a thrust. He grasped her hips tightly and pounded into her fiercely, the heavy desk scooting across the floor a couple inches.
"Hold on, love," he growled as he lifted her hips slightly. At that point, Hermione lost the ability to think coherently and all she wanted was for him to never stop doing what he was doing. They were both winding tighter and tighter together. When Hermione came, the intensity of it shocked her and she screamed. Sirius' hand had been wound into her curls, and he started slightly, pulling her hair. Her loud moan surprised them both.
As soon as Hermione caught her breath, Sirius pulled her up into his arms and kissed her roughly, his tongue seeking hers. There was longing and six weeks' worth of missing her in that kiss. His hands slid over her skin, stroking her sides, teasing her nipples, cupping her bum to pull her tightly against him. He wound his hand into her hair and tugged hard as he kissed her thoroughly she moaned into his mouth and when he pulled away there was a smug smirk on his lips.
"You were always such a lady," he murmured softly, shaking his head. "How did you become such a naughty, wanton witch?"
"I blame you," she said tersely. "You and your debauched ways have corrupted me."
Sirius snorted in amusement and bent his head to nibble the tender flesh of her neck. Her fingers slid into his hair and tugged as a bit of revenge, which only backfired as he moaned against her skin and she shivered in his arms. Sirius lifted her easily in his strong arms and her arms immediately wound around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist. He snogged her senseless walking forwards so that she was pressed against the bookcase. She squeaked slightly when she felt the book spines pressing into her bum.
"We can't do this right here," she whimpered as the smell of parchment and bookbinding filled her nostrils. Sirius chuckled wickedly.
"You know how many times I fantasized about shagging you in the Hogwarts Library? Whenever you're researching your eyes get this glow…it's kind of a huge turn on," Sirius confessed, a dull flush rising up his neck. Hermione giggled and then gasped as he slid into her. She stared up at him then, her hazel eyes unreadable and bit her lip.
"I used to fantasize about you taking me in the Restricted Section," she whispered and watched his eyes turn almost black with desire. "It was always finals week so the Library was packed, and I had to be so, so quiet."
"You are…I can't…it's probably a good thing I never knew that," he muttered, staring at her, his eyes glazed with lust. "I'd have locked us both in there and never let you out."
"No, you like it when I moan," Hermione taunted him, wriggling her hips against him. His eyes almost rolled back in his head and he thrust deeply into her in retaliation. She gave a soft, breathy moan, her neck arched back.
Being thoroughly shagged against a bookcase was possibly one of the hottest, sexiest things that had ever happened to Hermione. The smell of the books, all of the knowledge that surrounded her in a Library turned her on, in a way. The feel of the books against her bum, the feel of Sirius between her thighs, the feel of the bookshelf that she was desperately clinging to while he pounded into her made her orgasm almost as intense as the one she'd just had. She tried to be quiet, too, because it really did seem like her naughtiest fantasy come true. When she whimpered and Sirius clapped a hand over her mouth, she completely lost all control. She came so hard she saw stars. She felt him follow her quickly and she cuddled in his lap on the Library floor.
You are such a depraved lecher …I think you shocked Sirius.
I doubt it. You didn't go to Hogwarts with him. I was terrified of opening any sort of door for years. I always made whoever was with me go into any room or open any cupboard first.
Surely he wasn't that bad.
I hear that after they realized there really was no way to break us up, the girls of Hogwarts made him a memorial broom closet. It's got a little gold plaque and it's from every house—they all contributed to the purchase of the plaque. It's my understanding that none of them would use that broom closet afterwards.
You're kidding. Wouldn't the teachers notice?
It's on the inside dear. You'd have to open the broom closet. It makes sense if you think about it.
So what other fantasies have you been hiding from Auntie Hermione? I bet Sirius would help you bring those to life, too. Ooh, is there one where he dresses like a pirate and you're his captured booty? He ties you up in the captain's quarters and struts around shirtless with breeches and boots on? No? Just me? Oh, come on! I'm willing to share here!
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HG/HP/HB
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"If my research is correct, this is the potion," Hermione said softly, shoving her notes across the table at Regulus. He looked them over and frowned slightly. This would definitely explain a case of mummified bats' wings. He felt a cold fury invade his innards and he scowled at the parchment.
"How do we help my father?" Regulus asked flatly. Hermione bit her lip.
"We have to neutralize your mother," Hermione said softly. Regulus' features hardened.
"Are you suggesting we kill her?" He asked sharply. Hermione shook her head.
"Not if we can avoid it, but Regulus she is potioning your father. This potion…long term use could be damaging his health and sanity. It certainly wasn't meant for prolonged use and who knows what sort of side effects your father might be suffering. He…he doesn't deserve this…does he?" Hermione explained her fears about his father's condition calmly, but when she came to the end her voice quavered slightly and she looked to him for confirmation. She had never met Orion Black and she was unsure about him.
"No," Regulus agreed firmly. "My father…the man I remember when I was a child…no he doesn't deserve this at all."
"Right, so how do you want us to handle your mother? What should we do?" Hermione asked him carefully. Regulus' mask slipped for just a minute and he looked so vulnerable, so lost, that it broke her heart for him.
"I…do you think St. Mungo's could help her?" Regulus asked softly. Hermione shrugged helplessly.
"Mabye?" She offered weakly. "We're not sure why she's done what she's done. If it's just madness…well…we could see if there's some way they could help her."
"And if it's not madness?" Regulus asked plaintively. Hermione swallowed.
"We could approach your Uncle Alphard as Head of her House and ask him what to do," Hermione suggested. Regulus frowned for a moment, but then nodded.
"That would be the proper thing to do," he agreed with firm resolve.
In the end, it had been Walburga Black's unbalanced mind that had been responsible for much of her behavior. Alphard had her taken to a very secure ward at St. Mungo's for treatment, and Sirius and Regulus spent days at Grimmauld Place flushing their father's system and waiting to see if he would come out of the situation unscathed. Alphard had overtaken the household, and had had several of his own house elves come to clean the place from top to bottom and take Kreacher in hand. He loved his mistress with every fiber of his being, and it had taken both Regulus and Alphard, and a cousin of Kreacher's who served House Black under Alphard to convince him that he hadn't failed House Black by trying to follow his mistress' orders.
Orion Black stirred fitfully in his bed. Hermione sat near him and she carefully wiped his brow and watched his face. He shifted again, and suddenly his grey eyes snapped open and she was staring into an older, haughtier version of Sirius' face.
"Who are you?" He rasped at her, frowning. She lifted his head carefully and helped him sip some water.
"Er, what's the last thing you remember, sir?" Hermione asked him cautiously. Orion frowned and shook his head slightly.
"Putting Sirius on the Hogwarts Express for the first time," he said slowly. "What happened to me? Where's Walburga? Is she with Regulus?"
"Er, perhaps I should fetch U-er, Alphard," Hermione said faintly, staring at the man in front of her.
"Hermione, love? Regulus says he'll come take over and then we can go home," Sirius called out and then poked his head into his father's room. "Father?"
"Who the hell is he?" Orion demanded with a dark scowl. Hermione tried to pat his shoulder.
"Now, sir, you need to calm down. Sirius, go get Alphard, please!" Hermione tossed the last bit over her shoulder at her husband who was standing in the doorway staring at his father in shock. "Sirius! Now, please!"
"Did you call him Sirius?" Orion demanded gruffly, grabbing her wrist tightly. Hermione blinked up at him nervously. Fear and uncertainty flickered in his grey eyes and his hand tightened on her wrist. She hissed in pain and tried pulling her wrist free, which only made Orion's hand tighten even more.
"Sir! Please, it hurts," Hermione said faintly. Suddenly, a hand broke Orion's hold on her wrist and she realized she was staring at the back of Sirius' robes. Regulus was standing shoulder to shoulder with his brother, making a united wall of protection in front of Hermione. Alphard was standing next to Orion's bed.
"Cousin," Alphard said gently, "we have a lot to discuss."
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Disbelief melted quickly to shock and then finally anger. Orion knew and trusted his cousin Alphard, and the two men standing protectively between him and the young woman could only be Sirius and Regulus. He had apparently missed the last eight or nine years of his sons' lives. His wife had apparently gone round the twist and drugged him with potions so that she could control their family. He'd known that Walburga was becoming unstable, which happened with a rather unfortunate regularity in the Black family. He should have done something about it, but he hadn't wanted to deal with the stigma of having to have his wife permanently locked up in St. Mungo's. He was flabbergasted to learn that his wife had supported that Voldemort nutter fully, even pressuring his sons to join.
"A Black bends his neck to no one!" Orion had snapped angrily, practically frothing at the mouth with furious rage. "Tell me neither of you allowed this bastard to brand you like bloody cattle!"
"Excuse me, sir?" That young woman that his sons were standing in front of was trying to call to him over their shoulders. Both of his sons glared at the pretty little thing and then turned back to look at him.
"Who is that girl?" Orion asked Alphard gruffly. "Why is she in here and why are my sons trying to protect her?"
"That would be Sirius' wife," Alphard said smoothly with a slight smile. Orion's eyes widened.
"You're married?" Orion demanded. Sirius glanced at Regulus and then looked at his father and nodded.
"Yes, sir," Sirius said quietly. "It'll be a year in August."
"A year? When did you make the official betrothal?" Orion asked in surprise.
"About a year ago," Sirius replied. Orion's face darkened.
"Why did you get married so quickly?" Orion growled. The girl sighed heavily and loudly.
"I courted her from fifth year on, and because of the war, her father and Uncle Alphard pushed through all of the contracts," Sirius said quietly. Alphard put a hand on his nephew's shoulder.
"Walburga tried to disown him, Orion, so I made him the best possible wedding contract considering his family status at the time. Charlus Potter was most generous with his only daughter," Alphard said calmly. Orion's eyes widened and then he smirked.
"You snagged the Potter girl?" Orion asked in a pleased voice. The Potter family were all purebloods and they had more money than was decent. It was a good match for his son and for their House. Then he scowled darkly. "Walburga tried to disown you? What the hell for?"
"Er, I refused to be branded like cattle," Sirius explained dryly. Orion proceeded to curse so fluently that the girl hidden by his sons gasped in shock, her eyes wide in stunned awe. Orion immediately remembered himself and flushed dully.
"Sorry," he mumbled in embarrassment running a hand through his hair. "It's just that…this is all so surreal. I put my oldest son on the Hogwarts Express yesterday, and now my youngest is already graduated. What about you Regulus? Did she try to disown you as well? You two are the only males that House Black has! Merlin, was the woman completely insane? Never mind, don't answer that."
"Yes, sir," Sirius and Regulus said dryly exchanging a sardonic look.
"Um, sir?" The young lady was trying to get his attention again. He frowned at his sons, and raised an eyebrow at them. Sirius sighed heavily and looked thoroughly disgusted. Regulus allowed himself a small smile at that, and they both shifted slightly so that he could see his daughter-in-law. She was a beautiful woman, with her wild, black curls and hazel eyes. He nodded briefly at her.
"And you are?" He asked curiously. She glanced up at her husband and then back at him.
"Hermione Black, sir," the young lady said sweetly and curtseyed politely.
"I assume you feel you have something of either great import or personal interest to me," Orion Black said coolly. The young woman nodded smoothly.
"Yes, sir, I believe I do," she said in delicate aristocratic voice that reminded him quite forcefully of his upbringing. He waved a hand at her, indicating she should continue. "There are quite a few people who are fighting Voldemort. As an Auror, Sirius is doing so openly. Regulus, however, is doing so from the shadows. His way is not as obvious, but it is just as efficient."
"Why do feel it so important to tell me this immediately?" Orion asked with a frown. Hermione glanced at Sirius again and then looked at her brother-in-law whose face had become shuttered and closed off.
"Regulus?" Hermione whispered uncertainly and she put her hand on his arm. Orion was surprised that his oldest son, Sirius, didn't look angry or jealous. Wizards in general, and Blacks in particular, had a tendency to irrational jealously. Instead, Sirius looked concerned for his brother. Regulus sighed heavily and undid his cuff and rolled back his sleeve, showing his father his Mark. Orion sucked in his breath and stared at his son's arm.
"He's been working from the inside to take the bastard down," Sirius explained roughly. "We're almost ready, too, from what I understand."
"Soon," Regulus confirmed quietly. "A couple weeks to figure logistics, but that's it."
"So you're…what, a spy?" Orion said darkly, a frown on his face. Something flashed in his new daughter-in-law's eyes and he realized that she cared for, and felt protective of his youngest son. What had been happening? What on earth had Walburga been up to?
"That's the simplest explanation of what I do, father…so…yes," Regulus said quietly, his face completely impassive. Orion scowled at Alphard who gave him a look like the kind they used to give one another in school. Trust me. Fine. But later, when the boys were gone, his dear old cousin Alphard was going to explain all of this to his satisfaction.
"I'm sorry," Orion said slowly, his brows drawn together. "I'm your father and your Head of House, and I wasn't there for you both when you needed me. I'm sure you've both done everything that you could to uphold the honor of our House. Please don't be offended, but…I think I need to speak privately with Alphard. If you would all join me for lunch tomorrow, I would appreciate it."
"That sounds nice, father," Sirius said in a slightly strangled voice, a strange look in his eyes. Regulus nodded uncertainly.
"Why don't you stay at safe house tonight," Hermione told her brother-in-law gently. "Sirius and I will come join you for dinner. I have a play date scheduled with Fleur for this afternoon anyway."
"You have children?" Orion asked in surprise. Hermione blushed prettily.
"No, sir," Sirius answered for his wife. "Fleur Delacour is my wife's god-daughter. She tries to see her as often as she can."
"Very well, tomorrow afternoon then," Orion said firmly. It was a dismissal, but it was a fairly polite one for a Black. Sirius and Regulus nodded, and Sirius' hand went to the small of his wife's back. The three young people filed out of the room quietly and Orion turned to his cousin.
"There is much you must learn, and learn quickly, Orion," Alphard said flatly, sitting in the chair that his daughter-in-law had been sitting in when he awoke.
"Let us begin, then," Orion said coolly. Alphard nodded.
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HG/HP/HB
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In the grey hours of predawn, Sirius slipped out of her bed and left the house quietly. She laid there in the darkness of their bedroom and rolled her eyes. Did he honestly think he could just go off to fight Voldemort without her? Hermione rose as soon as he left and performed her morning ablutions. She dressed quickly and quietly in her battle dress. She had promised the Ladies Aide Society that they wouldn't see her on the battlefield, and they wouldn't. She smirked slightly before apparating to her milites Command HQ and quickly transforming to her animagus form before anyone spotted her. She loped easily through the halls. Any of the lower level milites that saw her saluted her smartly by bowing their heads for three seconds and bringing their right fists to their left shoulders.
"Ah, domina," Lucius drawled, his silver eyes impenetrable. "I assumed that you would be here today."
"Don't irritate her, Lucius," Severus said coolly. "She may very well bite you, and then you'd miss out on all the fun."
"The domina is fighting with us today?" Rabastan LeStrange asked uncertainly, staring at the lioness who sat quietly near Severus Snape.
"I am sure that she will, regardless of others' desires," Regulus Black snapped irritably, glaring at his sister-in-law. The lioness snorted derisively and turned away from Regulus.
"We don't have time for this, Regulus," Lucius told his fellow miles coldly. "We're supposed to meet the Ladies' Aide Society and the Order of the Phoenix in a half hour, then we all apparate to the Dark Lord for the meeting he has scheduled, and then, at the appointed hour, our allies will strike."
"But, Lucius, she can't possibly…," Regulus snarled, fisting his hands at his sides. Lucius cut him off with a look.
"Not now, Regulus," Lucius hissed. "We have this under control. Severus? If you would be so kind?"
That was the last thing Hermione remembered for some time. When she woke she was lying on a bed in a small room in one of their safe houses. The room appeared to be completely sealed. She wouldn't be able to get out if she tried.
Those bastards!
What the hell?
This is some stupid plan to 'keep me safe', I'm sure. When I get a hold of all of them, I'll kill them!
How are you going to get out of here?
I don't know. It appears impossible.
Stupid purebloods. No offense. Call a house elf to you.
Call a what?
A house elf. Call Notty to you. Most wizards, especially purebloods, forget to allow for the fact that elf magic is markedly different.
"Notty?" Hermione called hesitantly, and her house elf appeared instantly.
"Yes, Mistress?" Notty asked politely.
"Can you take me to where Daddy and James are fighting?" Hermione asked. Notty looked unhappy, but she nodded. "Please take me to where Daddy and James are fighting?"
"Come along, Mistress," Notty said and took Hermione's hand in hers.
The battle was in full swing, and curses and hexes flew wildly through the air. Smoke hung over the battlefield and the acrid stench of death drifted up toward them, making both of them gag slightly. Hermione Black had never seen battle like this before and it turned her stomach. She could smell blood and scorched flesh and occasionally a whiff of urine or feces. She turned to the nearest bushes and vomited violently. Hermione crouched low to the ground, and watched the scene before her, trying to get her bearings. The scene before her was so surreal that she kept shaking her head thinking that if she did so, the scene would shift and things would change. She realized with a sense of sadness that the ground was already littered with a number of bodies. It was difficult to tell whose was whose, but the idea that anyone had died saddened her. She had worked to stop death, not to further it along. She had fought so hard to end all of this senseless slaughter, not to encourage it. She turned to her house elf.
"Notty?" She asked hesitantly. The house elf glared at her in disapproval. Hermione knew that Notty was fond of her and did not approve of her young mistress putting herself in danger. "Would you please return to the French dower house and ask all the house elves if they would come and apparate out all the injured on our side? Tell them they do not have to come, it is a request only. Take all the injured to St. Mungo's, please."
"Yes, Mistress," Notty said slowly. Then she frowned at Hermione. "What if there be elves who wish to fight for their Mistress?"
"If they wish to, they may. It is their choice. If they would rather help the injured, they may. If they'd rather stay at the house, they may," Hermione said firmly. Notty nodded solemnly.
"I will tell them exactly what you have told Notty, Mistress," Notty said firmly. Hermione nodded.
"Move quickly, Notty, we don't have much time," Hermione whispered, staring at the battle below her, her mind racing at the speed of light.
Everything below her moved in slow-motion and she realized with a dawning sense of horror that James had painted himself into a corner and was now surrounded by Death Eaters. She saw Dolohov and Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione snarled and started running. Everything she had done, every scheme, every plan, had been to help her brother. If the idiot managed to die now, she would never forgive him. She ran as quickly as she could and flung herself in the air between her twin and enemy wands. She transformed as she leapt so that a large, angry lioness was between James and any danger. He'd already been struck by one of Dolohov's special curses and he was lying on the battlefield unconscious. She glanced at him quickly, in the space of an instant and his pallor did nothing to comfort her. When Dolohov and Bellatrix fired Avada Kedavra curses at her, a strange glowing shield formed in front of her. A berserker rage filled Hermione at that point. She hovered protectively over James when suddenly one of her house elves popped in and looked uncertainly at her.
"Picky will be taking care of him, Mistress," the female house elf said firmly, the lioness backed up enough that the house elf could remove James.
As soon as she was certain her brother was safe, Hermione shifted, but she glamored herself slightly so that she could still claim that no one saw her on the battlefield. Dolohov and Bellatrix Lestrange never stood a chance, she took them out easily, her rage fuelling her magic. She quickly fired off nonverbal, wandless curses at both of them. The shock on Bellatrix's face was as sweet as honey. Hermione wondered if she knew that she'd been killed by a Black family curse. Hermione hoped so. She fought like the lioness she was, moving closer to her husband who was fighting with Remus Lupin against several Death Eaters. She drew near them and managed to block any and all spells that came near her or her husband.
"Is he dead yet?" She demanded gruffly, hoping her voice sounded different enough that neither of them would know who she was. They glanced at her and kept fighting.
"Not yet, from what I understand, but he's mortal. If you get a shot, take it," Remus told her flatly. She nodded sharply and turned her attention back to the battle at hand. She slipped carefully away from them, dodging and leaping to avoid hexes and skirted her way around the edge of the battle.
"Notty?" She called tersely. Another house elf appeared, looking upset and nervous.
"Merry is sorry, Mistress, but Notty was hurt," the small house elf said sadly. "Merry will help Mistress."
"She…she's not dead, is she?" Hermione asked in horror. Merry shook her head.
"No, Mistress. Notty is being healed and is unconscious," Merry said quietly. Hermione nodded uncertainly, relief flooding her that her friend was still alive.
"Can you take me straight to Voldemort?" Hermione asked the house elf curiously. Merry looked miserably unhappy, but she nodded.
"Yes, Mistress," Merry said unhappily.
"Will you please take me straight to Voldemort? As soon as I'm there, I want you to apparated to safety," Hermione informed the female house elf.
"Yes, Mistress," Merry said miserably.
For a Dark Lord this is a crap Command Center.
I was just thinking the same thing. Seriously, who does their decorating? Could they be any more cheap and tacky?
Perhaps they haven't budgeted for that sort of thing? I meant more that it doesn't appear to be organized at all. These people are just milling about, they don't appear to have any orders or any purpose. To be honest, I had hoped for more of a challenge than this.
You know, Voldemort always seemed very scary to me, but I must agree—this is disappointing, especially after Longbottom and Marchbanks. Now those women know how to plan and strategize a rebellion. I wouldn't trust this lot to be in charge of a bake sale. I tell you what, if I was the Dark Overlord of the Universe, I certainly wouldn't allow those tacky chintz pillows.
Mmm. I have to agree with you there. On the bake sale and the chintz pillows.
"Who is this," asked a cold, high, angry voice that sounded disturbingly familiar to both Hermiones.
Be very careful, love. He's a tricky snake.
"I'm terribly sorry," Hermione said politely, turning and smiling sweetly at the assembled Death Eaters. She gave a short bob. "I would say it's a pleasure to meet you, but, of course, it isn't."
"What the hell are you doing here?" Voldemort demanded, his voice becoming higher and angrier.
"Would you believe that I've come for tea?" Hermione asked curiously.
"You've come for tea?" Voldemort asked incredulously. Hermione shook her head.
"Well, no, of course not. I merely asked if you would believe it, and apparently you would. How disappointing," Hermione said coolly, with a slight sniff of distaste. Voldemort seemed completely stunned. She supposed it was logical. No one had ever spoken to him in the way that she was speaking to him in his entire life. It had to be disconcerting. "It's so hard to find a quality Dark Lord these days."
"Why you-!"
"How dare you speak to the Dark Lord that way!"
"SHUT UP!" Voldemort bellowed angrily, glaring at his minions. He turned back to Hermione and frowned. He was not amused. "You need to die. Kill her."
"Now, really, Mr. Riddle, that's incredibly impolite of you. We haven't even been formally introduced yet," Hermione chided him gently. Voldemort looked closely at her and frowned.
"Aren't you the Potter girl?" He asked after a moment. Hermione was honestly surprised that he would know her at all. She had worked so hard to keep a low profile, to keep her head down so that no one would know who she was. Everything she had done had been behind the scenes, non-confrontational, sneaky. If she could have taken out Voldemort with a goblet of poisoned pumpkin juice, she would have leapt at the opportunity. She smiled sweetly at the evil bastard who would have tried to kill her brother and destroy her future nephew.
"My husband might be put out by that description, but yes. I am also the lioness and the domina," she said confidently. Voldemort started to laugh, and Hermione decided that it was the most unpleasant sound she'd ever heard. There was no real humor to it, only derision.
"You? A little girl? You don't even look old enough to be married. You are the domina that my Death Eaters whisper about like frightened children?" Voldemort's sarcasm was vicious, and he looked irritated. She shifted quickly to a lioness and back to her human form. There were a couple gasps of recognition that told her that there were milites in the room.
"I am," she said flatly, growing irritated herself. Why was it so hard for these people to acknowledge that women could contribute to the war effort? "You are everything that is wrong with our world, and you cannot be allowed to continue to spread your hate and fear. You are a pestilence on the wizarding world, and you must be stopped."
"And you are going to do it?" Voldemort sneered at her. She smiled at him and it made his blood run cold.
"No," she said calmly. "You are."
"Kill her!" He demanded, glaring at the Death Eaters in the room.
A number of curses flew at her, and that strange glowing shield formed between Hermione and the dark curses that were aimed at her. She suspected it was her necklace, the Gryffindor heirloom, but she'd never had anyone try to kill her so she wasn't sure. Hermione sighed in irritation and waved her wand wordlessly at the Death Eaters that had tried to kill her. A fully body bind ensured that all of them were unable to try and kill her again. She turned her attention back to Voldemort who was turning puce with rage. He shot curse after curse at her and all of them bounced wildly off of her shield. One of them bounced off her shield and struck Voldemort directly. The bright, green light hurt Hermione's eyes, but she watched the look of surprise on Voldemort's as the Unforgiveable hit him directly in the chest. Hermione smiled brightly as he slumped over dead.
Oh, that was brilliant, love! Just like your vision! He basically killed himself! Now, you need to get out of there quickly.
She grabbed the portkey around her throat and was instantly transported to one of the Ladies' Aide Society safe houses. She stumbled slightly and realized that she felt odd. She looked down at herself in confusion and realized that there was a blade sticking out of her abdomen. She hadn't seen anyone throw it, she wasn't sure where it had come from. Her eyes widened and she fell to her knees.
Oh, crap!
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HG/HP/HB
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"How is she?" whispered a soft voice. There was a rustle of silk, and she heard her mother speak, her voice heavy with sadness.
"She won't say anything, she just stares at the wall," Dorea's said softly, her hand brushing against her daughter's brow.
"Did she know?" The soft voice asked sadly.
"No," Dorea's voice grew thick with unshed tears. "She had no idea."
"Sirius?" The soft voice asked curiously.
"He…he's tried to talk to her, but she won't respond. He's been so distraught that there's almost no speaking to him. He's convinced that she's willing herself to die," Dorea's voice broke and she began to cry softly.
"Why don't you leave us alone for a few minutes," the soft voice encouraged, and she could hear her mother retreat from the room.
Time was immaterial to her at the moment. They had won, defeating Voldemort and the bulk of his Death Eaters, but she had lost everything without even knowing it. She had been pregnant…pregnant with Sirius' baby and through her own willfulness she had lost it. The knife wound had triggered a miscarriage. She had lain in this room, in this bed since then. Sirius had been by her side day and night in the beginning, begging her to not die, to get better. He'd told her that it would be okay, that they would have a baby someday, but that she had to get healthy for that to happen. Now he would come, usually in the night, to stand at the foot of her bed and stare at her. She always knew when he was there, she could feel him watch her, and then turn and walk away.
"Hermione?" The soft voice called gently. "I know I'm probably the very last person you want to see right now, but I came anyway. You took the time to talk to me when I really needed it, and now I'm returning the favor."
Hermione turned her head, surprising even herself, to look at Narcissa Malfoy. She sat in a chair by Hermione's bed, a look of compassion in her grey eyes. There was no pity there, no sympathy, and for that Hermione was grateful.
"Narcissa," Hermione said with a frown. Narcissa smiled winningly at her.
"I've come to tell you that I believe in you…in what you said…and I'd like to ask you a favor," Narcissa said slowly, carefully. Hermione blinked slowly trying to figure out why Narcissa Malfoy was in her bedroom. "If…er, when I do have that son, will you be his godmother? Lucius wants Severus as a godfather, and I realized that I needed to find the boy a godmother. I would be honored if you would say yes."
"Why?" Hermione asked flatly. Narcissa blushed prettily.
"I haven't always been nice or kind to you," Narcissa said slowly, embarrassed to be discussing her faults. "But you didn't hesitate to try and comfort me when I most needed it. I've never forgotten your kindness. I want my son to be like that, and I think that with you as his godmother he might be."
"Yes," Hermione said simply. Narcissa blinked at her in surprise.
"Yes?" She asked breathlessly. Hermione's eyes closed and then she looked at Narcissa again.
"Yes," she said firmly. Then she faltered slightly and her face looked very vulnerable and pale. Narcissa frowned at her.
"You need to let him in. He's so scared right now, he thinks you're going to die and leave him." Narcissa scolded Hermione gently. Hermione sighed and closed her eyes.
"I keep thinking that I'll look at him and see hate there," Hermione whispered. "I couldn't bear for him to hate me, I just couldn't."
"Never," said a much deeper voice firmly.
Hermione's eyes flew open to see Sirius standing behind Narcissa staring at her with burning eyes. It was the same longing and pain she saw in her dream. She choked on a sob, and suddenly he was sitting in the bed, cuddling her in his arms and for the first time since it had happened, she allowed herself to cry. Narcissa stood up silently and left the couple alone. Hermione didn't even notice when she left, all she could see or hear or feel or touch was Sirius. His arms were like iron bands around her and she buried her face in his chest and sobbed brokenly. He didn't say anything, he just clutched her to him and rocked her gently.
A/N: We're not quite done yet, I have a bit more ground to cover.