Chapter Twenty-Eight
June 25, 1972
10:00 am
Hermione was excited to receive a letter from her cousin after so many months of hearing absolutely nothing. She hoped that him admitting that he missed her was a good sign for their relationship. Maybe he was finally ready to forgive her for the cupcake incident back in the summer. She cringed every time she thought about that night. And then immediately blushed when her thoughts strayed to the goat pen.
When? Where?
She sent the terse response back with the owl patiently waiting on one of the front tables.
"Was that from your cousin?"
"Yes, he is back from Africa and wants to talk."
Aberforth nodded and returned to cleaning the glasses on the bar. Hermione was pleased to see that the glasses were actually clean. Unlike the day they met her first trip to the pub her fifth year, he wasn't just wiping dirty glasses with an even dirtier rag. In fact, the rag looked like it had just been laundered. She was impressed. A swift scan of the pub proved that more than one of her improvements had stuck. Realizing she was making an effect on her father, she smiled.
"I'm pleased to see your smile again, lass."
Hermione gave Aberforth another half-smile before sighing.
"Want to tell me what's bothering you?"
"Why? Everyone else just keeps telling me to keep a stiff upper lip. Andy said I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself. Ted told me I'm too sensible to act this way. Kingsley tells me I cry too much."
Aberforth raised a single eyebrow at her response. Hermione felt jealous. She had always wanted to be able to do that, but couldn't.
"Do I seem like just anyone?"
"No."
"Good. Because I would hope you would have enough sense to realize I am not just anyone else." He stared at the only patron in the pub seated at a front table near the window before lowering his voice for Hermione's ears only. "Have you told anyone where you are really from?"
"No."
"Then how could they possibly understand what you are going through, lass? Have they been ripped away from their true time by a foolish, selfish, old man?"
Hermione sighed again.
"No."
"No, they haven't. A lot has happened to you in the past year. Actually, it sounds as if the past several years have been difficult for you. You are allowed to be emotional and even feel sorry for yourself if you want to."
"But everyone says…"
"Fuck them."
A loud burst of laughter bubbled up out of her mouth before she could stop it. Aberforth's eyes twinkled and he smiled.
"Take it from an old man who has had a bit of experience being sad and feeling down about himself. No matter how many people tell you to 'move on' or 'get over it', you can't switch your feelings on and off like a Muggle light switch."
She did not mean to gape at him following his analogy. Hermione was simply surprised that he was able to reference any kind of Muggle technology. Certainly he had never made it clear before that he knew anything outside of the wizarding world. How did he know about Muggles and electricity? Even Arthur Weasley with all of his Muggle obsessions could not even pronounce the word correctly. Realizing she was surprised by his knowledge, Aberforth rolled his eyes.
"I'm not completely useless, my girl."
"You are a man of many surprises."
"Yes, well, I meant what I said. It's okay to be sad from time to time. I imagine stewing in the memories of your own school years in that castle could not have been easy."
"No, it wasn't."
Aberforth set the last clean glass down on the bar. He dropped the rag to reach across to grasp Hermione's hand. A quick squeeze of reassurance helped buoy her mood slightly.
"It only becomes a problem when you don't know how to be anything other than sad. You're a clever girl, Hermione. But not everything makes perfect, logical sense. Don't be so hard on yourself. You have the rest of your life ahead of you."
An owl carrying her return message flew through an open window interrupting the conversation. It dropped the letter on the bar in front of Hermione before flying off.
I'm working in the shop today. Come to London for lunch? There's a café next to the shop. Meet me there at noon?
Thoughts of meeting Rodolphus for lunch brightened her spirits considerably. Hermione decided her dad was correct. She needed to do whatever she could to get out of the depressive funk she had been in since long before Antonin ended their relationship. She hopped off of the barstool with a large smile. Aberforth appeared pleased at her change in mood. She escaped to the back of the pub to shower and dress for her lunch appointment.
12:01 pm
Warm, sunny weather brought scores of shoppers out to Diagon Alley for some Sunday shopping. Hermione always felt a sense of calm in the Alley. At least she did when she was not polyjuiced to look like Bellatrix Lestrange that is. Memories of that horrific day were ordinarily pushed to the back of her mind. Following her one embarrassing panic attack in Gringotts with Rodolphus watching, she had been able to make several subsequent trips to the Alley and even to the bank without a repeat performance. It was one less thing for her addled mind to worry about.
She had lunch with Rodolphus a couple of times the previous summer at the café next to the Magical Menagerie. Finding it was not difficult at all. As she passed the store where her cousin's heart clearly was, Hermione could not help but smile. The beam tinged with bitterness moments later when she remembered he would not be able to enjoy the fruits of the labor of his love when he was locked up in Azkaban. Knowing the future and being unable to do anything to change it was beyond the mere description of 'frustrating'.
Rodolphus was already seated at a small table in the back when she pushed open the door to the café. It was a small locale, making it easy to pick him out within moments. Her heart swelled and her stomach clenched when the sweet man stood up from his table with no discernible expression on his countenance. He might have admitted to missing her, but that did not mean this was a meeting that was going to go smoothly. She almost wished she had another time turner that would allow her to go back to that night in August and slap some sense into herself. What she thought would be a fun joke became anything but to Rodolphus.
The moment the broad grin crossed his handsome face the clenching in her stomach ceased. Exhaling the breath she was holding, Hermione crossed the expanse of the small café right into her cousin's open and waiting arms. He enveloped her into a tight hug. For a brief few moments she felt like no time had passed between them since Christmas when he stormed away. Rodolphus broke the embrace to pull out Hermione's chair. Once seated the conversation between the two was initially a bit awkward.
"How were your exams?" he asked, searching for anything to say.
"I'm relieved they are over. Still not sure going back to finish them was the right decision."
"I think you will be glad you did later."
Their conversation was interrupted for a few minutes while their orders were taken by the shy waitress. She kept looking at Rodolphus with reddened cheeks. Hermione laughed behind her menu. He was absolutely clueless to how eye-catching he was to the fairer sex. She was curious what he had been like as a teenager in Hogwarts. More than once she witnessed his younger brother strutting down the halls of their beloved school like a self-important peacock. Perhaps that was part of Rodolphus' appeal. He did not know he was so attractive.
"How long have you been back?" Hermione asked, failing to remove the smirk from her face when the flustered waitress left.
"Not quite a week yet."
"How was Africa?"
Rodolphus sighed without answering the question. He seemed to be organizing his thoughts. It was clear that he really did not want to talk about what he experienced when he was out of the country with Lord Voldemort and his core followers. Hermione was curious. Just what exactly happened while he was gone? Did he have to do anything unsavory? She could only imagine considering who all was there.
"It was enlightening."
"Is that all you are going to tell me?"
"What do you want to know?"
His tone was beginning to get defensive. Hermione was worried about his reluctance to answer her question. What if he was already a Death Eater? She hoped that if she could not stop him entirely that she might be able to delay his horrible choice.
"How was Bellatrix?"
"Besotted."
"That's what you wanted, wasn't it? Her to fall in love with someone else on the trip?"
He sighed again. That was another one of those moments that Hermione hated the knowledge she possessed as a time traveler. It was something of a joke the amount of love Bellatrix Lestrange had for Lord Voldemort. She was ridiculed in soft tones of the embarrassing manner in which she worshipped the Dark Lord. Hermione knew long ago when she first had the discussion with Rodolphus about hoping his fiancée would fall in love on the Grand Tour that she absolutely would, but it would not be the kind of love that resulted in broken engagements and hasty weddings.
"Unfortunately, she has fallen for a man who has already made it painfully clear to her that he is not the least bit interested in marriage. Our engagement is still on sadly."
"I'm sorry. That's awful."
"Yes, but at least she won't be back for another year. Then her parents are going to insist on throwing the biggest high society wedding they can imagine to make up for their embarrassment earlier this year. That will take at least a year or two to plan. If I'm lucky, I can remain a somewhat carefree bachelor until 1975 or 1976."
His distraught and resigned sigh tugged at Hermione's heart. She reached across the small table to place her hand on top of his left forearm as a gesture of comfort. The instant she applied the slightest pressure to his arm Rodolphus hissed in pain. Hermione was convinced that he had already been Marked. Hot tears began to form at the corners of her eyes. She was too late. Ignoring his reaction, Hermione grabbed his arm again and almost ripped his sleeve in an effort to bare his arm.
Two deep gashes on his arm began to bleed again. She felt instant relief. He wasn't Marked. Not yet. There might still be time.
"What the hell, Hermione?"
He used his wand to clean up the blood that was dribbling down his arm. His annoyance was clear.
"I'm sorry. I thought… I don't know what I thought."
Rodolphus ignored his still bleeding wounds to stare at her. It was as if he was trying not to say something. She could almost see his worried thoughts.
"One of the owls in the shop got startled this morning. Cut me pretty deeply with his talons. Caradoc and I are both rubbish with healing spells."
"Oh."
Hermione removed the bottle of dittany from her purse that she always carried. She never wanted to have to use the substance, but made certain that she was not without. Grabbing his arm again with a bit more care and concern, she trickled a couple of drops into each wound. Ignoring Rodolphus' hisses, she used a basic healing spell she learned before she went on the run with Harry and Ron to close up the wound. Unfortunately in her life she had been forced to learn healing spells.
"What were you expecting to see, Hermione?"
She could not meet his eyes, but it was clear by his tone that he was very serious and perhaps even worried. Ignoring his question or attempting to change the subject would not work.
"I thought while you were gone you might have…"
Rodolphus covered her hand with one of his.
"What do you know?'
"About what?"
"You're not convincing when you try to play dumb, Hermione."
Rodolphus lowered his voice and leaned over the table.
"Have you seen one then?"
"One what?"
He rolled his eyes.
"Obviously you know about Lord Voldemort's marks. Have you seen one before?"
"Not up close."
"Who?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Please tell me Igor wasn't foolish enough…"
"No! At least not yet."
Igor Karkaroff would eventually take the Dark Lord's mark. She knew that without a single doubt in her mind. The exact date that he would turn his life over to Voldemort was not known to her, however. When she was living in the future her thoughts about the Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute were few and far between. Rodolphus sighed at the thought of his best friend being imprudent enough to become a Death Eater. It broke Hermione's heart just a little bit more.
"Bella has one. She was probably the first. Bloody idiot. She tried to get me to get one too, but I didn't care for the requirements."
"Good. I was worried about you while you were gone. Thought you might be getting involved in something dangerous."
"Marrying Bellatrix Black is likely the only dangerous part of my future life. I plan on being as inconspicuous as possible."
Hermione wished that were the truth. Bellatrix was a maelstrom of menace intent on converting the world to her master's perfect view. It would only be a matter of time before Rodolphus was swept up in the carnage. An awkward silence fell over the two cousins. Their meal arrived at that moment to make it a bit easier to focus on their tea and sandwiches. The serving witch gave the oblivious Rodolphus one more shy smile as she set his meal down in front of him. For several minutes neither of them said anything. Finally, Rodolphus cleared his throat and wiped his mouth on his napkin.
"Is Andy… happy?"
Hermione took a moment to consider her answer. Rodolphus kept his gaze focused entirely on his plate while he waited.
"Being disowned by her father hurt her very deeply. It has not been easy for her."
"Bella ranted for days about her sister when she got her father's letter. Said she brought shame to their entire family. I've been… well, honestly, I've been a bit worried about her. Is this wizard a good man?"
"Yes, very much so. He will take care of her and keep her safe. They will both be very happy.
She spoke with the confidence of one who had seen the future. While she had no doubt Andromeda and Rodolphus would have had a happy life together, he made his decision to not go against his father's wishes. At least one of them would be happy. Well, until the second war. Hermione often made it a point to forget that Andromeda would lose her husband and her only daughter within months of each other. When her time turner started working again (assuming it ever would) she would go back to 1998 and her best friend would be at the end of the worst year of her entire life. Just imagining what she would be going through made Hermione very emotional. She did not want to think about Ted being dead. Or their daughter Tonks. Or Remus. Or any of the dozens of other lives that would be lost that she had no control over.
"I suppose I can't wish for anything more for her," replied Rodolphus.
"Except maybe a change in wizards?"
Rodolphus' cheeks flushed at Hermione's question. She did not feel the least bit ashamed of making him uncomfortable. He needed to be fully reminded of what he willingly allowed to slip through his fingers.
"I'm already engaged. It would be inappropriate."
"Would you rather be appropriate or happy?"
He would not answer the question. It was a moot point anyway. She knew what was going to happen. He was going to marry Bellatrix, become a Death Eater, help torture the Longbottoms into insanity, and spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. It made her sick and it made her angry. Rodolphus deserved better than that. He was a much better man that he gave himself credit for.
"You already know my feelings on the matter, Roddy."
Rodolphus sipped his tea to give him a reason not to speak. Hermione knew the signs. She was guilty of doing the same thing from time to time. Choosing not to push him any further than he was willing to go after they had only just started speaking again, she sipped at her own tea. Rodolphus' eyes widened and he groaned. He dropped his teacup to the saucer causing a loud clinking noise.
"Do not look towards the door."
Hermione was curious why he would make such a request, but did as she was asked.
"Are we trying not to call attention to ourselves?"
"A horrible woman just walked in the door. She cornered me in the shop several months ago with a dozen different questions on what she should feed her cat. Dreadful woman. Works at the Ministry. I've seen her there several times."
Hermione's curiosity was certainly piqued after his explanation. She tried to look towards the door out of the corner of her eye. All she could see was a short blob of loud pink fabric.
"She always makes a point of seeking me out."
Despite knowing it would annoy him greatly, his confession only made Hermione giggle. He narrowed his eyes at her in a vain attempt to stifle her laughter.
"Do you have an admirer, Roddy?"
"I daresay I do. Oh bugger, she's spotted me. I don't suppose I could get you to pretend to be my date."
Hermione snorted at the very idea of the charade.
"Sorry. We aren't the Blacks. There will be no romantic lunch dates in our future, dear cousin."
Rodolphus glared again, only making her laugh harder. The corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile.
"One of the ladies in her department taught me a useful trick to get her to leave me alone. If she comes over here, I'll try it."
"Hem hem."
Hermione felt as if an entire bucket of ice cold water was suddenly dumped on her back. At the familiar and still quite obnoxious sound, she rotated in her seat to see a young Dolores Umbridge at their table. She could not be more than twenty or twenty-one years old. She was smiling at Rodolphus in much the same manner as the waitress had been earlier. Hermione snorted at the unbelievable thought of Umbridge actually fancying her cousin.
"Mr. Lestrange, I thought that was you."
Rodolphus turned his head in her direction at the sound of his name. Hermione almost laughed at how much he resembled Regnault in that moment right down to his haughty demeanor. He had apparently been observing his father's mannerisms quite closely for many years. The heir to the Head of the Lestrange family even peered down his nose at the simpering fool.
"Yes, Miss…"
"Umbridge. Dolores Umbridge. I was a few years behind you in school. Slytherin, of course. We have had the pleasure of meeting each other a few times at the Ministry. Once you helped me pick out some food for my kitty next door."
Rodolphus acted as if he was trying to recall who she was exactly. It was extremely amusing. Hermione had to keep sipping at her tea and nibbling at her sandwich to keep from laughing out loud.
"Umbridge, you say? Wasn't there once a chap at the Ministry named Umbridge who used to mop the floors?"
The smile that had been plastered across Umbridge's face immediately fell off at the mention of the former member of the Department of Magical Maintenance. Though it had been a few years since she witnessed it firsthand, Hermione could tell the witch was steadily becoming quite incensed.
"What was his name?" Rodolphus continued. "Orford Umbridge? Are you by chance related to him?"
Umbridge narrowed her eyes.
"I am sorry, but I do not know who you are referring to, Mr. Lestrange."
"My apologies. Must have been someone else. Oh, forgive me. This is my cousin Hermione Dumbledore."
Reluctantly, Hermione shook the toad-faced woman's hand. Neither witch was pleased with the gesture.
"Excuse me for interrupting your lunch, Mr. Lestrange. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Dumbledore."
The cousins watched her return to the front counter in a huff. Both struggled to keep their laughter under control as they watched her snatch a paper bag with her lunch in it out of the poor cashier's hand. She stormed all less than five feet of her out the front door. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Rodolphus and Hermione stopped trying to contain their laughter.
"That wasn't very kind. Where's my sweet cousin?"
Rodolphus simply winked at the question. All traces of Regnault, pater familias of the Ancient and Noble House of Lestrange, dissolved off of his face. He was once again just her cousin Roddy, acting as if he were a naughty boy stealing biscuits when the house-elves weren't looking.
"She is a horrible woman. Works in the Improper Use of Magic office. One of the ladies that works there with her told me that she is extremely embarrassed by her father's less than prestigious roots. Mafalda said that if you mentioned her father or asked her if she was related to him, she would get really embarrassed and flustered."
"She seems to me the kind of person to hold a grudge, Roddy. Maybe that wasn't the best decision."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Mafalda warned me against doing it too. She and I were at Hogwarts at the same time. Different Houses, but we were always friendly. Very sweet woman. She would never tease the Umbridge bitch about her father. Seems a bit afraid of her."
"I don't think I blame her. Do you remember Umbridge from school?"
"Not really. You know how it is. You don't always pay much attention to those who are several years younger than you are. Rabastan would be the one to ask. I get the feeling they weren't the best of mates."
Hermione knew all too well that Dolores Umbridge was vindictive when she felt slighted. Her fifth year at Hogwarts had been up there as one of the worst years of her life specifically because of the horrible woman. Luring her into the Forbidden Forest would be an action that Hermione would likely regret for the rest of her life. Not because it saved Harry, of course. She just felt guilty about what happened to the nasty woman after the centaurs dragged her off to the bowels of the forest. Some things should not be wished upon even one's own worst enemy. Hermione was grateful that in her own time Umbridge had been dragged off to Azkaban for crimes against humanity due to her Muggle-Born Registration Commission. If she was free to cause havoc, Hermione had no doubt she would be on the very top of her list of those she swore revenge.
"Let's change the subject. You are probably already sick of hearing this question, but what are your plans for your future now that school is over?"
She resisted the urge to groan. For months that had been her go-to response every time that question was asked. When she had her career advice meeting with Professor Flitwick, she had to keep herself from running out of his office in sheer terror. Everyone else in her year had already had the meeting when they were in their fifth year. Most of them even had jobs already lined up once their NEWTs were completed. Ted had an internship in the Muggle Relations department in the Ministry for the summer. His goal was to one day be the liaison between the Ministry and the Muggle media. Antonin was an apprentice cursebreaker with Gringotts. He would be based primarily in London. Thomas was clerking for both of his parents at the Wizengamot with hopes that he would one day take over for one of them. Andromeda even had a job working in a small shop in Diagon Alley. Before her disownment she had been expected to stay home, marry Max, and provide heirs. Hermione was a little jealous of how excited the woman was with her job at The Junk Shop on Diagon Alley's South Side.
Hiding in The Hog's Head did not seem an acceptable option. Her father had already made comments about her seeking employment to prevent getting bored. They both were aware that thanks to access to the Lestrange Family vaults she would never have to work a day in her life, but a life of indolence was not for Hermione. She would grow bored of it before too long.
"I don't really know. I thought I would help Dad out in the pub for a bit, but as far as long term goals, I don't have any."
"I'm sure something will come up. You could always let Father arrange your marriage and then you could resign yourself to charity work and childrearing like a proper Pureblood wife."
Understanding he was just teasing her, Hermione wadded up her cloth napkin and threw it at his face. They laughed. She had nightmares picturing what sort of wizard her uncle would find to be an acceptable husband for his rebellious sister's rebellious daughter. Likely he would be awful and old and have tremendously awful breath. She gave an involuntary shudder at the thought.
"Want to come next door? Caradoc and I were working on reorganizing the owls. It's been a bloody nightmare. Maybe you can help us. Fresh pair of eyes would not go amiss."
"Of course."
Rodolphus dropped a few galleons on top of the table. Certainly a great deal more than the meal cost. Maybe he wasn't as clueless to the serving witch's feelings as Hermione assumed. He winked at the flustered girl on the way out the front door sending her into a flurry of nervous giggles. Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled.
They walked next door to the Magical Menagerie, weaving through busy shoppers. Rodolphus held the door of his shop open like the proud proprietor he was. It bothered Hermione enormously that he did not feel comfortable admitting to his stern father that he actually owned the shop. Regnault had strange and archaic views on what was acceptable behavior for his sons and niece. If he could only see how happy Rodolphus was standing inside the cramped store with floor to ceiling cages and random owls flying overhead, maybe he would not be so averse to a Lestrange being in trade. But knowing her uncle as she did, she highly doubted that would be the case.
Hermione tried to ignore the fact that the last time she was in the store was the day she met Igor. So much had happened since that day. While she did not necessarily regret meeting the future Headmaster, she did wish that perhaps things had been different between them. She had obviously made herself too available because she was attracted to him. Somehow she got the feeling she would start receiving even more late night letters from the lust-inducing lothario because she was no longer stuck in school.
Another wizard she had never met before was standing behind the counter with a clipboard and a self-inking quill. He was a few years older than Hermione, certainly closer to Rodolphus' age than hers. Though not nearly as tall as her cousin, he was still at least six inches taller than Hermione. He had the same kind of thick, curly hair that Hermione had been cursed with, but he kept it short enough that the dark brown curls actually proved to be an asset to his appearance.
"All right, Caradoc?"
At the sound of his voice, the wizard spun around in place with a bright smile. Hermione thought he was a nice-looking bloke. Not as handsome as Rodolphus certainly, but she had the feeling he did not have trouble attracting women. Her opinion was only solidified when she got a closer look at his deep emerald green eyes.
"You didn't miss anything, Rod."
"This is my cousin Hermione Dumbledore. Hermione, this is my shop manager, Caradoc Dearborn."
Caradoc rushed around the front counter to grip Hermione's outstretched hand in a firm shake. She thought his name sounded familiar, but it truly was too hard to remember everyone. Whoever he was, he seemed to be a pleasant, friendly sort.
"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Dumbledore."
"Please, just call me Hermione. Miss Dumbledore makes me feel like I'm at some bloody boring Pureblood ball and you want a dance."
"All right then." He laughed. "Have you come to assist in the madness of the owl reorganization or can I interest you in a new kneazle kitten?"
"No, thank you. Roddy gave me a kitten for my birthday and I don't think my dad's quite forgiven him yet."
Caradoc winked one of his beautiful green eyes. He set the clipboard down on the counter and led them both over to the section of the shop where the myriad of owls they had for sale were housed. It did not take Hermione long to sense the disorder they were both trying to combat. Dozens of angry owls were perched in no discernible pattern. They had eagle owls grouped with snowy owls. Spectacled owls were next to the long eared owls. In short, it was a mess.
"You do realize that you can't keep that Great Horned owl over by those Snowy owlets, right?" she asked. When neither of the men indicated they were aware of what she was talking about, she sighed and continued. "Look at him. He's eyeing the poor dears for an afternoon snack. If you're not careful, he will eat them."
"I did not realize," Rodolphus stated, his cheeks flushing proving his embarrassment. "I know a great deal about dogs and kneazles and rodents. Caradoc's expertise lies with the slimy creatures despite his Hufflepuff background. We are both still learning about the owls."
"It would behoove you to have an owl expert in the store. It's no wonder you were scratched this morning, Roddy."
Caradoc snorted at her admonishment. Rodolphus narrowed his eyes at his manager, but there was no heat behind the look. Taking it upon herself to create some kind of organization in the madhouse, Hermione began to move the cages and perches of the owl inventory. Both men just watched her work. Occasionally they helped her move something at her request. By the time the afternoon was completely and thoroughly gone and the evening half-over, the three stepped back from the completed section of the store with a great deal of pride.
"Would you like a job, Hermione?" Rodolphus asked.
"Seriously?"
"I would hire you in a second even if you weren't the boss' cousin," agreed Caradoc.
Hermione thought over the prospect of working in the store. She loved animals. Always had. The owls in the store recognized her authority almost immediately and acquiesced to all of her commands. It had been a wonderful afternoon. She liked feeling useful and needed.
"You wouldn't have to be here every day. Just a few days a week. Help us keep the owls under control. Maybe teach us poor sods a thing or two about them while you're at it. Caradoc and I are desperate."
"Okay. Sure. I'll be helping my dad a lot at the pub too, but I'm sure we can work out a schedule."
She could not believe how much lighter her spirits felt when she accepted the part time job at the Magical Menagerie. Never in her life would she have expected to actually be happy at the thought of working retail, but there she was. How many years had she naïvely gone through her school years imagining that one day she would take the Ministry of Magic by storm and pass a great deal of legislation for creatures' rights? She always assumed that she would be working on the inside of that organization. Being on the run and witnessing how easily the entire Ministry was infiltrated by Lord Voldemort's forces was more than a little disconcerting. She did not think she had the stomach any longer to dream of slogging through the politics of the bureaucracy. Maybe she would feel differently when she made it back to the future. Somehow she doubted she would.
"I will come by in the morning and we can iron out all of the details."
Following a hug goodbye from her cousin and another one from Caradoc, Hermione stepped out into the rapidly darkening alley. It was almost nine. Most of the shoppers would be long gone and safe at home by that time, but she was not worried. She had survived a war when she was eighteen. A walk down the alley to an apparition point would not be an issue.
She Apparated to the front of the Shrieking Shack as she had done dozens of times before. The walk from the shack back to The Hog's Head was just long enough to be calming and relaxing. It had been a good day. She was anxious to reflect back on the small victories she had made the first day away from Hogwarts.
A hundred meters from the edge of the village a prickling sensation took hold of Hermione's entire body. Concerned at first that she was under some kind of spell, she grasped her wand and spun around. No magic was being used on her, but she was in the midst of an intense gaze from a monster she wished she would never see again. Did werewolves have a gaze that enthralled their victims just like vampires? It certainly felt like it the longer Fenrir Greyback stared at her frozen form.
"Are you aware there are dangerous creatures in these woods, Miss Dumbledore?" he asked, each second drawing closer and closer.
"Well, I am now," she retorted, determined not to show her fear. He fed off of fear. Got off on it. She refused to let him rile her up.
"One more night until the full moon."
"Then I will make it a point to stay inside tomorrow evening so we don't run the risk of seeing each other again."
Greyback's deep chuckle caused the hair all over Hermione's body to stand on end. He was close enough to touch her with his hands. She took a single step backwards when he moved closer right into the trunk of a large tree. The feral grin that crossed his lips made Hermione's heart leap. One large step from the powerful werewolf was all it took to have any hope of escape cut off completely. She could feel his breath on her face, his arms on either side of hers. Attempting and failing to calm her breathing she almost fainted when he moved his broad chest against hers. His face dropped down so his lips were just outside the shell of her ear.
"You always smell so delectable. I'd love to just bury my nose in you."
The meaning behind his words was painfully clear. Hermione gasped when the werewolf shoved his face into her hair and sniffed. His hard, commanding body was fully pressed up against hers, revealing with no uncertainty just how much the monster desired his prey.
"I would make you my queen," the monster whispered directly into her ear. "The second our mutual friend gives me permission, I will."
Fenrir Greyback inhaled the scent of Hermione's hair one final time before pushing his body off of hers. A half-smile quirked at his lips. He pressed his fingers to his lips in a macabre facsimile of a blown kiss. Only when he spun around in place to Disapparate away did Hermione exhale again. She struggled to catch her breath, all of her fear crashing down on her in harsh waves.
June 19, 1998
11:30 am
Kingsley dropped his wand to his side and his gaze to the ground at his nephew's insistent question. How much could he reveal? Honestly, he was aware that he had already revealed too much. Would it be safe to tell even more? He hated that Dolohov was still present and listening. The man could not be trusted.
"Dean, before I tell you anything, I need a wizard's oath that you will not tell anyone what I'm about to tell you. Both of you."
The naivety of the boy was telling when he agreed immediately to the harsh terms. Most wizards would at least take a moment to consider the ramifications of blindly agreeing to such a magically binding vow. Dolohov was reviewing his options. Finally, even he nodded his head in agreement. Kingsley did not trust the man as far as Hermione could throw him without magic, but a wizard's oath would at least keep his mouth closed.
"Hermione came to The Hog's Head for a drink the last night. At some point between the time I left and this morning, she disappeared. Aberforth wasn't sure what happened either. A little after ten, I said good night to both of them and left. Hermione left a few minutes later. Then I got Arthur Weasley's patronus this morning."
Dean rolled his eyes.
"We know all of this, Kingsley. I want to know why you believe Hermione Granger got sent back in time."
"Did you know Aberforth had a daughter, Dean?"
He shook his head.
"Neither did I until I was a cocky little shit of a sixteen year old. She just showed up. One day he didn't have a daughter and the next day he did. My granny is Ab's best friend. Has been for most of their lives. Even she didn't know about his daughter. Seems a bit strange, doesn't it?"
Kingsley took another deep breath to steady his nerves before continuing.
"It's a really long story. She decided to come to Hogwarts. Dolohov over there broke her heart a few times."
Antonin snorted in derision at the words. Kingsley did not care. It was the truth. He'd even been there in the aftermath for at least one of the heartbreaks. It had been ugly. Only Hermione's cries and forced promises that he would leave Dolohov alone kept the fucking Death Eater alive.
"She and I fell in love. Took us a few years to get it right, but right before your dad was murdered by Dolohov's lot, she disappeared one night. No one could find a single trace of her. No body, no clues, nothing. Just gone. Years passed. A few years ago Headmaster Dumbledore was recruiting for the Order of the Phoenix. I showed up at the Headquarters and thought I was seeing a ghost."
"When you met Hermione?" Dolohov inquired, his face pale.
"Yes, I thought I was seeing a ghost or losing my mind. Possibly both. I went to Aberforth and demanded to know what he knew. Apparently, he knew from the day she arrived in the past that she was from the future. He claimed her as his daughter to keep her safe. He'd been sitting on the secret that Hermione Granger was Hermione Dumbledore."
"Is she going to come back?" demanded Dean.
Kingsley was not sure how to answer that question. It was his greatest hope that she would, but he could not make any promises. For all he knew, she might have been killed by Greyback the night of the full moon. She might never be coming back. The thought terrified him down to the marrow of his bones.
"Yes," he replied with as much confidence as he could muster. "She disappeared on June 18, 1998 and showed up June 18, 1971. I'm assuming that because she disappeared in December 1980 she will show up in December 1998. We just have to wait to find out."
