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EPILOGUE. Their Happily Ever After….
The grand magical ceiling of Hogwarts was lit up, reflections of hundreds of floating candles shimmering from the vast surface. It was the start of the new school year, complete with the traditional welcome speech, and Hermione noted that Headmistress McGonagall seemed particularly inspired this year. Her inaugural "elocutions" grew more profound and increasingly quoted, with each passing year; and this year topped them all.
After the applause died down from her introductory remarks, the Headmistress paused. She looked around the room, meaningfully.
"Students of Hogwarts…I'm sure you have noted the empty chairs at the head table."
She waited for their murmured concurrence.
"We had a few...vacancies...to fill this year. I am pleased to announce to you, each position has been filled, and superlatively at that. Our incoming faculty for the upcoming school year is," she paused with a wink, "...well. I dare say, this is the strongest cadre of faculty I have ever had the honor of working with, in all my years at Hogwarts."
She paused, for effect.
"Which is, I'm sure doesn't bear reminding, is a LOT of years..."
The new students, the returning students, and the small handful of transfer students all absorbed the revered Headmistress' revelation. Everyone in the Great Hall seemed to be buzzing with excitement, even the veteran faculty. The grin on Professor Hermione Delacour's face was positively incandescent. A jaded transfer students, who would be sorted after the first years, even seemed truly impressed, having heard this type of speech before, albeit at other institutions.
However, this time, they actually believed what their new Headmistress had to say.
"Oy! She was actually pretty good." A bulky blonde headed boy whispered to another transfer student who happened to be standing closest to him. The bulky blonde took a closer look at his fellow transfer student, whose expression revealed nothing. Sizing him up, the blonde boy offered, "Hey, where are you transferring from, anyway? I'm from Durmstrung."
The less portly, quite adorable brunette with a mop of messy hair nodded, in polite "guy" acknowledgement. After a beat, the brunette replied, "Salem Institute."
"From the States, then?" The blonde chuckled. "So, American...which house do you want to be sorted into?"
He shrugged. "I dunno. One of 'em….don't really care which."
"Well that's decisive of you, eh?" The blonde waggled his eyebrows, adding, "I want to go to the one the new Potions professor is taking over."
"Ravenclaw?" The brunette guessed.
"Yeah! Ravenclaw. The new head of house...oy! She's so fucking hot!"
"Eh, I guess." The brunette mumbled, trying his best to ignore the former student from Durmstrung. He looked up, relieved, to see his new Headmistress take the podium again, presumably to make the new faculty introductions.
"Shhh," the brunette replied, silencing the blonde preparing another likely off-color commentary about the new head of house of Ravenclaw. "I want to hear this."
Thankfully, the blonde took a hint, and shut up, much to the Salem transfer's relief.
Headmistress McGonagall looked out to the crowd, in anticipation. Her lips curled, faintly.
"Good students….our new faculty additions, in addition to their obvious qualifications for their respective subject matter of their teaching, provide so much more, than just subject matter expertise! Our new faculty also provide a variety of additional talents, in addition to their academic subjects. To wit: amongst the new hires, we have multiple Order of Merlin Recipients, a French Iron Cross awardee…."
The crowd gasped.
Minerva smiled, acknowledging the shock and awe, as she continued. "...a three time MVP awardee from the Quidditch World cup tournament…."
Again, she had to pause, as the Hall erupted with deafening noise from the claps, whistles, and stomping from that last announcement. That reference was unmistakable as to the identity of the hire, and Minerva gave a knowing grin to her Head of House for Gryffindor, who smiled back, knowingly.
Minerva continued.
"...a consultant on staff who is the only person to win the Decanter World Wine Award and the prestigious International Wine Challenge, in the same year; a recipient of the highest military decoration awarded for valour by the British government while in the face of the enemy, the Victoria Cross-"
Another gasp, this time predominately from the muggleborns in attendance.
"...Three of our new hires are battle tested and highly decorated former Aurors, as I previously alluded to...and not at all coincidentally, all three are the new Heads of Houses."
Minerva let that sink in, before continuing.
With an impervious grin, the revered Headmistress continued, "Given that the fourth Head of House is rounded out by none other than Professor Hermione Delacour, a woman who needs no introduction... I would caution those high spirited individuals amongst you all that there will likely be no funny business tolerated, this year." She gave a pointed look to the crowd.
Nervous laughter broke out amongst the older students, while predominate looks of sheer terror were the most common reactions noted amongst the new first years. Before anyone could rethink acceptance of their Hogwarts admission letter, Minerva barreled on.
"Finally, in this lauded group, it is worth mentioning, for the first time, we have recruited within our ranks, formidable and widely respected members of the Royal family, from the our neighboring adjacent regions."
Gasps broke out, and it took Minerva several minutes to regain the focus of the group. The buzz of speculation amongst the star-struck students were drowning out the taps of Minerva's wand on the podium. Order was regained only when a piercing whistle rang out, and a familiar-looking blonde head popped through the side door that led to the elevated seating of the Head Table.
"Hey! Cool it, you all!" The gorgeous blonde hollered, after removing her fingers from her mouth, from the piercing whistling. "Your headmistress is talking! What the hel-er, heck...is wrong with you people?"
The room immediately silenced staring at the blonde, several of the older boys beginning to drool. The blonde let out an easygoing grin, nodding, letting a smirk slide across her face.
"That's better, kids."
Finally, she looked up respectfully, and nodded to Minerva. "Headmistress McGonagall, you forgot the most important distinction, in your introductory comments."
Minerva grinned back, raising an eyebrow. "That being…?"
The blonde in the gold and black robes, who had singlehandidly silenced hundreds of gawking students, grinned winningly back at them. They all seemed mesmerized by her, curious as to what her referenced distinction would be.
She didn't keep them in suspense. With a charming grin, the blonde curtsied.
"Annnnnd finally, one who holds the muggle all-time record of getting 37 parking tickets, all in a single month…last month!" the new professor offered, with a grin, looking oddly proud of herself. "Without getting their car impounded, which is a miracle...that person being me, of course." She grinned, with a goofy, endearing wave. "Hi!"
The people who actually got that joke, understanding the implications of 37 parking tickets in a month, started cracking up, hysterically. Purebloods looked at their classmates, confused, asking for a translation; once explained, they started laughing as well.
"Like a boss!" the Hufflepuff prefect, Teddy Lupin, exclaimed. He started nudging his mates. "That's her!" He grinned. "Did I or did I not tell you she was all that?" They nodded, enthusiastically, and Teddy looked up and waved at the blonde, who gave him a knowing wink, mouthing 'Hey, Teddy!' as she moved to take her place at the Head Table.
Minerva curled her lips. "Well, then. Now seems the time for the first introduction, I dare say." She looked at the blonde, fondly. "Allow me to introduce the first of our new hires, the new Head of Hufflepuff, as well as the new Professor of Muggle Studies..."
Minerva gracefully gestured towards the blonde, who remained standing behind her chair, awaiting her installation. Minerva completed her introduction, with a final, "...Her Royal Highness, Princess Emma Swan-Mills of the Northern White Region, Queen Mother to the Crown Prince White."
The hall went wild, a few of them gasping, and the comments were nearly instantaneous.
"Emma Swan? Holy shit…it's the Savior!"
"She's the most famous curse breaker of all time!"
"Yeah, I heard Gringotts tried to hire her...offered her a pretty penny. Why'd Princess Emma come here?"
Hufflepuff cheered, naturally, loudest of all. Minerva smiled, giving Teddy (her not-so-secret-Teacher's-Pet) a broad grin, before continuing.
"In addition to her aforementioned 37 parking tickets, which would certainly merit detention were she not a professor…. Professor Swan-Mills also is our French Iron Cross award winner, a world famous curse-breaker, and a highly decorated former Auror. Please give her a warm Hogwarts welcome!"
The doughy blonde transfer students' eyes had genuine respect in them, clapping enthusiastically, along with everyone else. He turned to the smaller boy from Salem, whispering, "Dude…I heard she killed a dragon and stopped an eclipse!"
"Yeah, me too. She also broke a curse…twice." He whispered back.
"Dude..."
"Yeah, I know, right?" the Salem transfer nodded.
The doughy blonde boy seemed to straighten up, smoothing out his robes. "Her highness is seriously bad-ass," he observed, with respect.
Minerva continued, once the whistles ceased, and the doughy blonde boy's proclaimed recipient of "bad-assery", Professor Emma Swan-Mills, appeared red as a tomato, uncomfortable with the whistles and clapping caused by her introduction. She whispered a reminder to the Headmistress.
"Oh, right, then!" Minerva nodded. Looking back to the students in the room, the Headmistress instructed, "It should be noted that Princess Emma prefers to be addressed as Professor Swan-Mills during her tenure here."
Minerva gave the aristocrat a nod, who murmured her thanks, and blushed further, before taking her seat.
The Headmistress continued on. "Next, please welcome our new Quidditch coach, a woman who needs no introduction to this group, I realize." A hint of a smile graced the austere Headmistress' lips. "A graduate of Hogwarts's School for Witchcraft and Wizardry prior to joining the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch—"
That was as far as Minerva got, before the hall erupted in deafening applause, again.
Ginny Weasley Potter really was a woman who needed no introduction, at Hogwarts, or anywhere in the UK. A few of the Gryffindor's even pulled off their robes, stripping to their bare chests as they waived their shirts around their head like maniacs, in the traditional Quidditch crowd rally.
Finally, the familiar red head popped through the door, acknowledging the applause.
"Hey," she said, modestly, giving an almost indifferent wave, as the crowd roared, when she came into view.
The redhead looked at the Gryffindor's, laughing immediately, giving them a wave, before shouting, "Hey, mates! Put your shirts and Gryffindor robes back on! Merlin's beard, your bare chests are making 'Mione…er, ah..." She looked at Hermione with a grin, "You're makin' Professor you-know-who, blush and such, what with your raw Gryffindor manliness!"
The entire Gryffindor house started laughing, and Hermione did blush, in earnest, who glared at Ginny.
"See!" The redhead gestured towards the brunette, drawing even more attention to her blushing, "...you're making the Golden Girl get all misty!" Ginny grinned, waggling her eyebrows at her old friend, as the room roared in laughter.
"Excuse me," Hermione said, clearing her throat. She looked towards the crowd, her face neutral; the room went suddenly quiet. "Allow me, Professor Potter, to remind everyone of...the power of Transfiguration," she said, meaningfully, as she did a delicate wave of her wand.
The students watched, amazed, as the brightest witch of her generation manuevered her wand in a series of twist and turns, with such rapid fluidity, that it was almost impossible to follow with the naked eye. Then, suddenly, a loud pop! was heard, and just as suddenly, Professor Delacour had transfigured her friend, Ginny Potter, into a fluffy white poodle.
Once the shock and utter amazement receeded, the entire Hall laughed, howled, and whistled. Finally, they applauded, which Hermione politely acknowledged with a tilt of her head, as she rose from her chair and swiftly scooped up the little poodle, setting it in Ginny's designated chair, with a little pat on it's head.
With an evil grin, she walked back to her chair, reseating herself, calmly. Professor Hermione Delacour looked up at the Headmistress, as though nothing had transpired, and waited innocently for the Headmistress to continue. Minerva looked at the Golden Girl, dumbfounded.
After a moment, Gaby leaned over to her closest friend and sister. "Uh, 'ermione…"
Hermione looked over to the Care of Magical Creatures professor. She smiled. "Yes, Gabs?"
"Excusez-moi, but," Gabrielle weighed her words, carefully. "...You gonna change Gin back, anytime soon, ma soeur?" She asked, gently. "What wiz eet 'er first dinner, 'ere, and all..."
Hermione looked at Gaby thoughtfully, then turned and flashed a warning look at the poodle.
"Maybe."
It wasn't until Minerva herself cleared her throat, that Hermione finally relented.
"Oh, fine!" Hermione groused, pulling out her wand, with the dragon heart core. She rose from her chair, again, and looked out to the students seated in great hall. Not one to miss a teachable moment, the Professor intoned, "Remember what I always say, students! Transfiguration is not just a science…"
"….it's an art!" Chanted all the upper years, from every house.
"Right!" She grinned, pleased.
Minerva waited, looking at Hermione, expectantly. Finally, the Headmistress huffed, "Oh, for the love of Merlin, Professor Delacour! Do get on with it, whould you, dear? If this is how you treat your best friend, I'd hate to be your enemy!"
"Hear, hear!" The previously silent Professor Longbottom, Professor of Herbology, vociferiously concurred from his end of the table. "I dare say her enemies would agree with you, as well, Headmistress; would it not be fore the fact anyone who falls into that category are all pretty much dead, and extinct!"
This caused the first years' eyes to widen, the ones who hadn't learned what a softy the Head of Gryffindor House really was, yet.
Neville raised a glass in a silent solidarity toast towards Hermione, who air toasted him back with a grin, thinking of their days together from the past, fighting shoulder to shoulder as children. Professor Longbottom broke their mutual gaze first, and grinned, looking down, to pet the poodle who merely hissed back at him.
Gaby nudged Hermione's wand arm. "Ca suffit, cherie!"
"Oh, stop!" Hermione fussed, with a grimace. Finally, the Transfiguration Professor didn't even bother with her wand, instead casting a wandless, wordless spell that immediately restored a fuming Ginny Potter, and left the onlookers stunned and impressed.
"Bollocks, Hermione!" the red-headed spitfire muttered out.
The room spilled with nervous tittering laughter. Ginny gave the crowd the stink-eye, silencing the laughter, before she turned and flapped her arms at the herbology professor. "And, stop petting me, Neville!" She said, irritated. She whirled around, hastily. "And you, Professor…" she said, pointing at Hermione.
Hermione just smiled, in return.
Minerva calmed her nerves, rolling her eyes, before rubbing them. She sighed. Finally, clearing her throat, she continued as if nothing had happened, and Ginny sat down, listening to the Headmistress.
"Next, a new position and an old one, should be presented next. With the passing of our head house elf this past year, please allow me to present the new Head of the Kitchens, our newest installed Head House Elf, Mr. U.N. Cornis."
A white elf poked his head through the door, then immediately retreated. Sounds of a scuffle were heard, and finally, in came Andromeda Black, carrying the house elf, on her hip, who let out a squeak when he saw the number of students in the audience.
The elf grinned sheepishly, looking around the room, before ducking his head in the bend of Andy's neck.
Minerva rubbed her eyes, again, before continuing. "He is accompanied by our Head Caterer and Kitchen Consultant, a new part-time position installed this year, given the opportunity to retain the esteemed expert. Allow me to introduce, and please give a warm Hogwarts welcome, to our Head Kitchen Consultant, and winner of nearly every culinary and wine award of significance in the last five years...Madame Andromeda Black Delacour."
Both U.N. and Andy wore the white smocks of the kitchens as well as matching chef's placards. Andy waived, good-humoredly, at the applauding crowd. She set down the nervous blue house elf from her hip, down onto the stage; he immediately clasped her hand. As they walked off to the side, U.N. gripped Andy's hand for dear life. Finally, they made it over to their chairs off to the side of the Head table, reserved for them.
The house elf sat, tentatively, in his chair, until U.N. ultimately resorted to sliding over and perching on Andy's lap, out of nerves. He remained on Andy's lap for the duration of the introductions, leaving his chair vacant. Andy said nothing, merely patting circles on his back, reassuringly. She looked around the room, waiving at her grandson, way over at the Hufflepuff table, before her eyes finally landed on her spouse, at the Head Table.
A decidedly less innocent smile then graced her lips, returned in kind.
Minerva ignored the Head Consultant's nearly pornographic stares with the Professor of the Care of Magical Creatures, instead smiling gently at the elf, before turning again to the students.
"These two bring a wide and accomplished track record in the culinary world; while every witch and wizard knows of the award winning creations that Mrs. Black Delacour's wineries win, nearly every year, it bears mentioning that equally accomplished is our New Head Elf, U.N. Cornis. Mr. Cornis is the first magical creature to place in the James Heard cooking challenge, in history, and has been a finalist for the past three years."
The applause was genuine, even from the Slytherin table. U.N. seemed to be trying to squish his entire body into Andy's, in response.
"I dare say, we shall become fat and happy, this school year," observed Minerva, shocking the audience with an actual joke. Just as quickly, the proper woman became her overly-formal self, once again. "Onto our next hire, then, who needs no introduction here."
She gave a quick glance at Narcissa and Hermione, with a nod to Gabrielle.
"Our next new hire first graced this hall nearly two decades ago as a Tri-Wizard Champion; that love of death-defying challenge clearly continued in her career, as she became a highly regarded Auror with the British Ministry of Magic, and is the only twice awarded recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class..."
The Ravenclaws started clapping and whistling loudly, nearly drowning out the following words of the Headmistress.
"...Please welcome your new Charms professor, as well as the new Head of Ravenclaw...Professor Fleur Delacour!"
Ravenclaw was on its feet, and Gryffindor, out of loyalty to Hermione, stood as well, clapping politely.
Fleur swept onto the stage, commanding it; she graciously acknowledged the applause, and sat next to Hermione, giving her an adoring look, before kissing her on the cheek.
Quietly, Hermione gushed, "Hiiiiiiii, Fleur!" The brunette's eyes radiated love and utter happiness.
Fleur grinned. "Ca-va, ma Belle?" Fleur replied, in kind, obviously equally mesmerized, and deeply smitten.
At the professor's display of clear affection, and their continued stares at one another, a few of the first years in line for the sorting hat all turned around, looking at one of their fellow first year classmates, inquisitively. The girl in question, sporting lustrous blonde hair, acknowledged the curious stares. The etherial first year beauty rolled her blue eyes, playfully, and graciously fielded dozens of questions from her classmates in the ranks, as though she were a seasoned politician.
The most common answer overheard from the blonde, was "Oui. Zey're like zat at 'ome, too. All ze time."
As if having superhuman radar hearing, Hermione narrowed her eyes, zooming in on the young first year, standing in the middle of the line. As though feeling the piercing brown eyes of Professor Granger Delacour bearing down on her, the blonde looked up, and swallowed nervously. She met the intense brown eyes for mere seconds, before immediately looking down on the ground.
Fleur, in contrast to Hermione, smiled broadly and waved at the blushing first year, when she finally peeked back up. Fleur mouthed a silent "Bonjour, Victoire!" to the blonde first year, to which the blonde politely waved back, avoiding Hermione's glare, altogether.
Victoire Delacour, the eldest daughter of Hermione Granger Delacour and Fleur Isabelle Delacour, nervously looked over to the Hufflepuff table, at her prefect friend, who just gave her a wink.
"Did you see that?" hissed Hermione to Fleur, immediately. "Teddy Lupin just winked...winked! At Victoire!"
"And?"
She looked at Fleur, flabbergasted. "He winked! She's eleven, Fleur!"
"Going on forty, 'ermione," Fleur sighed. It was going to be a long year with Mama Bear. She was going to have to teach Victoire some escape and evade techniques, and remind her spouse that eleven in Veela years did not exactly equate to eleven in non-Veela years.
In the rear of the Hall, the two transfer students watched this exchange in amusement. However the incessant chatter from the doughy blonde Durmstrung transfer was clearly grating on his colleague from the Salem Institute. It appeared the brunette was tiring of the non-stop declarations of 'how damn hot' Professor Fleur Delacour actually was, now that she was actually before them. The ex-Salemite glanced around, looking for a polite way to escape his moronic company.
The brunette's eyes finally landed on his plausible escape, and he grinned, happily. Turning to the obnoxious boy, he said, "Will you excuse me, mate? Uh, I'm gonna go say 'hi' to my cousin, over there."
"Which one?"
He shrugged. "She's a first year, over in the sorting line." The boy pointed towards a redheaded female, hanging out towards the back of the first year line.
The Drumstrang boy's eyes went wide, in recognition. "Great Merlin! D'ya know who that is?" he said, practically panting.
The Salem transfer rolled his eyes. "Of course I do. I believe I just said she was my cousin, after all."
"She's like…royalty around here!"
"She's not royalty."
"She is!" the blonde insisted. "That's friggin' Harry Potter's daughter!"
The dark headed boy would be glad to escape this git. "Yeah, really? Be that as it may, that doesn't actually make her royalty, though. I should know...my parents are actually royalty." He grinned at the suddenly pale transfer student. "But don't worry. The monarchy? It's sort of overrated." he said, slapping the boy on the back, before escaping.
He could feel the star-struck boys eyes boring a hole in his back as he made his way over to the diminutive redhead in the first year sorting line. He threw his arm around her shoulder, giving her a squeeze.
"Hi, Lily Luna! You're a dang sight for sore eyes."
She looked at him, amused. "Oh, really? Why's that, Crown Princely?" She teased.
He grimaced, at the nickname. "Oh, hush it, you!" He said, before gesturing his explaination discreetly to her, towards the blonde headed boy overtly staring at them. He whispered, "yet another 'eager fan' of our convoluted family tree."
She glanced over, nodding in acknowledgement.
"Gads! Merlin's beard, the Neanderthal is practically drooling, at you."
"Tell me about it!" he rolled his eyes. "If I have to endure yet another adjective used to describe Aunt Fleur as 'fucking hot,' I think I might hurl."
"Oh, is that what this is?" the redhead laughed, outright. "Well…in the git's defense, Aunt Fleur is actually rather hot."
"Ew!" he said, screwing up his face. "Hot? Just...no. Wrong. That's like…disgusting, Lily!"
She shrugged. They both unconsciously looked up at their Aunt at the Head Table. As if on cue, Fleur suddenly went green, and quietly excused herself from the table, rushing out the door looking like she might vomit. Hermione looked after her, at the door, anxiously.
The two cousins watched from the back of the sorting line, as Professor Gaby Delacour reached over and poked Hermione in the side, and waggled her eyebrows. They noticed Professor Hermione Delacour immediately swat her hand away, scowling at Gaby, who giggled.
"Bloody hell, Lily…didja see that?"
"Yes." She said grimly.
"Do you think….?"
"Yes." She nodded, her unspoken agreement. "It's how it always starts, right? Merlin's Beard!" She looked at her cousin meaningfully. "Aunt Hermione got Aunt Fleur pregnant…again! Kid number five...Bollocks! They must be exhausted!"
"Wow…" he muttered. "Aunt Hermione is just so…."
The redhead looked at him, amused. "Prolific?" She chuckled. "But then again, I guess you think everything Aunt Hermione does is just magnificent, don't you?" She gave him a knowing grin.
He turned crimson.
"Oh, shut it, Potter!" He growled. "It's been months, okay?"
She make puckering noises with her lips, with a mock kiss.
His cheeks flushed. "Stop it, Lily! I don't have a crush on Hermione Granger!"
Lily seemed to think otherwise. "You lurrrrrve her…you want to kiss her…" she singsonged, a la Ms. Congeniality.
"Stop it!" He growled, clamping his hand over her mouth, looking around, nervously. When she put her hands up in surrender, he changed the subject slightly by asking, "Hey, do you think Victoire saw?" He glanced up towards the front of the line.
The redhead's expression turned sour.
"I could care less what Miss Victorie Delacour saw, actually! I'm pissed off at her, right now."
"Oh?" he asked, curiously, "again?"
"Yeah! She ate every single one of my chocolate frogs, without having the courtesy of asking! I didn't get a single one on the train!" She frowned.
"Oh, that IS crap," he commiserated, clearly being a veteran of listening to one of Lily Potter's various rants. Smiling, he pulled out his last chocolate frog from the depths of his robes. "Here," he offered. "But don't let anyone at the head table see you…we're not supposed to have sweets before the feast."
Her grateful eyes nearly bulged off her face.
"Really? That's so-wow, thank you so much!" She grinned, putting her hand on his forearm. "You know, you really are my hero, right?"
"Uh...no prob. It's nothing."
"And about that whole 'not being seen' thing? Good luck with that!" she said, gleefully jamming the entire frog in her mouth, in one bite. "Your mums are watching you…everywhere. All the time. Right now, in fact. At least mine only plays Quiddich and can only hover during sports!"
"Tell me about it," he said, glumly. "Well…hopefully you won't get too many points deducted from Gryffindor, Lil, for jamming that entire frog in your mouth, all at once!" He laughed.
She stopped chewing. He didn't notice the anxious expression that slid across her face.
XOXOXOXOXOXOX
There was one unoccupied spot left at the Head Table.
Minerva looked out at the sea of expectant students. All of their eyes looked eager, having heard the rumors. There seemed to be an unexplainable buzz of excitement from the room, curious to see if the audacious rumors were actually true.
Minerva chuckled to herself, thinking about her final appointee. She raised her chin, authoritatively, and spoke. "And our final staff introduction really needs no introduction…"
The excited buzz grew, in nervous anticipation, throughout the Great Hall.
Minerva shook her head, recalling the day she had offered the spot of employment to her final appointee; she had no doubt it would leave a legacy as her most inspired hire or the worst mistake she had made, as Headmistress...of that, Minerva was certain.
"Please, students, help me in welcoming our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, as well as the new Head of Slytherin House..."
The buzz grew louder.
"...this incoming professor is a fabled former Auror, holding both the British Order of Merlin and the American Legion of Merit distinction for services in the field, and is the only wizard to ever receive the Victoria Cross for Valor."
The buzz grew to fever pitch.
"In addition, Minerva continued, "she remains the former dual sovereign, Queen Regenant of the Shadowlands and Queen Regent of the Northern region. This is an individual who I dare say, defines needing no introduction. Allow me the pleasure of introducing the Queen Mother, and our new Professor... Her Royal Highness, Regina Swan-Mills..."
The Slytherin table literally exploded.
Boys and girls in the green and silver stood, humming something that sounded oddly like "God Save the Queen," while noisemakers fired off that let out billowing swirls of purple smoke at their table. Even the Hufflepuff table clapped along.
Professor Swan-Mills swooped into the Great Hall, looking regal in her pressed teaching robes with green and silver trim representing Slytherin House, topped with her purple regent pin. She graciously acknowledged the applause, looking absolutely regal, gorgeous, and completely in her element.
The Headmistress settled the crowd and the various pyrotechnics. "Like her spouse, Professor Swan-Mills waives royal nomenclature, opting to employ her academic title only in salutation, during her tenure at Hogwarts." Minerva informed the star struck crowd.
The Evil Queen nodded, gratefully demonstrating her respect for the Headmistress. However, she did pause, as a salacious grin slid across her gorgeous face. She arched one eyebrow, melodramatically.
"But I do, however, expect a bow or curtesy at first greeting from all but American students and my Slytherins," she grinned.
The Slytherin table let out some hoots, while the dark-haired beauty turned, seeking out the mess of blond curls at the Head table. She gave a curt nod to Emma, acknowledging her wife with a tiny smile, utterly failing to mask her adoration of the goofy blonde savior.
Professor Flitwick whispered to Emma, "Does she mean the faculty, too, Emma?"
Without taking her eyes off the final Professor, Emma shrugged, "this is Regina...probably."
Their eyes seemed to speak volumes, lost in one another, to the crowd. It was a well known, now public story, of Regina's past voluntary abdication in favor of her "idiotic parent-in-laws" (her affectionate term for them), Snow and Charming; she asked them to run their kingdoms, when Emma and she volunteered to become Unspeakables. As agreed, the monarchy would bypass both she and Emma; it would pass to their son, instead, when he came of age as the heir apparent.
The pressures of becoming the heir apparent is likely the reason why their son liked his Aunt Fleur so much; she uniquely understood his pressures and the expectations of his inherited title.
The former Evil Queen spotted the empty seat of U.N. off to the side. As Regina sauntered off in the direction of Andromeda Black Delacour, she was halted by a stern voice from the podium.
"Ah ah ha, your majesty!" Minerva cautioned, firmly.
Turning her head away from the podium so the students couldn't hear, Minerva calmly explained. "I believe we discussed after the last staff meeting, and the resulting events that followed, that you and Ms. Black Delacour were no longer allowed to be seated next to each other at any staff function."
Regina stopped, and both she and Andromeda frowned, giving the Headmistress a look.
"Ever."
"Fine!" Regina grumbled. "I had forgotten your…proclamation." Regina said, evenly. Both she and Andy sighed, before Regina acquiesced. "As you wish, Headmistress."
The Headmistress had a wan grin.
"I have saved you a fine seat, Professor Swan-Mills, over there by Professor Longbottom, my dear." Minerva said, with a knowing grin.
"How….lovely," Regina replied, through gritted teeth.
Regina's friends at the Head table all chuckled, enjoying her misery as she slid rather unhappily between Ginny and Neville.
"Cheer up, Evil Queen," Ginny laughed, patting her on her leg. "You'll be alright, over here on the light side," she waved a thumb in Narcissa's direction. "We even have a reformed evil person here, just like you, if it makes you feel any better!"
"Hilarious as always, Mrs. Potter," Cissy said, rolling her eyes.
Regina gave the Quidditch coach a playful glare. "Excepting Narcissa Black Delacour's presence, I beg your pardon, Ms. Potter," she said, in her haughtiest voice. "Frankly, I'm allergic to this much…happiness and sunshine."
"If it helps," Neville chuckled, "I could stab a fork through your hand at dinner, Regina, if it would make you feel more comfortable."
She looked thoughtful, "it might."
Emma paused momentarily from her passionate discussion with Hermione over how to avoid muggle traffic court and noting her wife's sour expression, down the table.
The Savior leaned over, whispering across the table, "Regina, babe. Don't worry…you and Andy can go get arrested together….again, after the sorting hat ceremony is done, kay?"
Regina's expression perked up, slightly.
"Arrested? No shit!" exclaimed the Red Headed Quiddich coach. "Ohhh..hell yeah! I wanna go, too!" Ginny laughed. "Harry and the kids are at Mum's this evening! I wanna be wicked, too, Regina!"
Regina merely scoffed. "My dear Mrs. Potter," she proclaimed. "As wicked as you think you are…you're not in even in my league."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Please. Okay, Ms. Bad-Ass Darkness….who passed out first, last week, 'Gina? You or me, Evil Queen? Huh?"
Regina's eyes grew furious, then calmed. "I suppose you have a point, however feeble, Mrs. Potter." With a scowl, she added, "next time, Ginerva, we're using Hard Apple Cider, and we'll see who's left standing then, smart ass! Now…more importantly," she leaned in closer to Ginny, "...have you been keeping an eye on the developments over in the sorting hat line?"
Ginny glanced over.
"Oh, you mean...our kids, your royal evilness?" Ginny shrugged, glancing at Lily and Henry, their children. They had their heads bowed, in an intense discussion. Ginny nodded, in acknowledgment, at Regina. "Yeah, I've been watching. Your little shit smuggled candy into the Great Hall, Regina."
"Oh, really?" Regina said, arching her eyebrows. "Well, your little shit ate it, as fast as her little grubby Gryffindor hands could unwrap the package!"
Neville listened to the bickering, and inadvertently laughed, earning him a kick in the shin from Ginny.
"What?" Neville protested. "Hey! You have to admit, Regina is fucking hilarious, Gin!"
Ginny glared at Neville.
"Traitor!" she mouthed at Neville, giving Regina a matching glare.
Regina arched a sculpted eyebrow, waving her hand in the air. "Oh, pish, Potter! You love me, and you know it."
The Quidditch star sighed. "Yes, I actually do. It's one only tragic flaw, unfortunately." She postured a mock look of horror. "Oh Merlin...I'm a royalty groupie."
"Indeed," Narcissa chimed in, nodding gravely. "That's the first step, is admittance, Coach Potter."
XOXOXOXOXOXOXXOOX
The Sorting Hat ceremony was underway.
The first years all waited in line for their turn, the tables of the respective Houses looking on with anticipation. The four heads of houses, as well, all watched with bated breath, as though the fate of the wizarding world rested under that beat-up, veteran leather hat. So unassuming, and yet, the most important thing that would determine the fates of every child that passed through the hallowed halls of the great institution.
Then, without preamble, the hat began it's annual introduction, in its familiar singsong ditty:
"I sort future kings and heros and crooks alike
But don't judge me on what you see,
I'll eat myself and your little dog too,
if you find a smarter hat than me.
It matters not where you're from, for in your head
The Sorting Hat will see,
It matters not what others want, for I will
place you where you ought to be."
It was an oddly prophetic introduction to this year's sorting; indeed, it would ultimately become an evening of surprises.
One of the biggest, if not the biggest, surprise occurred early on, in the sorting of the already bewitching first year student, Victoire Delacour. As the weatherbeaten hat rested on top of the flaxen blonde Veela's head-the firstborn head that had been famously borne, widely reported, and still gossiped regarding, from Hermione and Fleur Delacour-it would render one of the evening's biggest shockers.
The sorting hat screamed out its decree after a single second:
"SLYTHERIN!"
The entire hall gasped.
In that moment, it was hard to tell who was more pale, between Hermione Delacour, or the Headmistress, herself. Hermione shook her head, staring at the hat.
All the color left Hermione's face, as she mumbled, incoherently. "Oh my fucking…! Oh fuck…my fucking …what the actual fuck?" After that rather poetic rant, Hermione simply muttered incoherently, peppered with indiscriminate swearing. This startled all bystanders, as swearing in general was rather uncharacteristic of the Golden Girl, excepting only her marital bed and/or near death escapades with Harry.
Finally, when she looked like she was going to just storm the hat, altogether, Fleur pulled her back, with a gentle squeeze on her leg.
"My love…" Fleur intoned, gently, rubbing circles on the firm grip with which she held her nearly demented wife.
Hermione scowled, looking over at Fleur. Out of her peripheral vision, she noticed a wink exchanged from fucking Regina Swan-Mills to her eldest daughter, Victoire Prodigal Daughter Delacour, and Hermione gritted her teeth.
Worse, perhaps, was the fact she saw her daughter light up, and wave quickly back at the Dark Witch, before taking her place at the universally shocked, but appreciative, Slytherin table.
"Who does she think she is?" Hermione hissed. "She's grounded! For life!"
Fleur laughed. "Oh,'ermione…eef you really zink about eet, iz eet such a surprise?"
"WHAT?" Hermione's head whipped around, staring at the blonde with righteous anger. "What...that she wants to be a dark witch? Yes, Fleur. Yes, it is!"
Fleur's face grew serious, bordering on angry. "See 'ere, 'ermione! Victorie has no more chance of becoming dark, zan you do!" She admonished. "Look, Victorie iz…Victoire. She's smart, and tough, and very ambitious. And she's so determined, Belle…just like you."
Fleur looked at her wife, meaningfully, but Hermione remained silent.
The new head of Ravenclaw rubbed Hermione's back, gently. "My love...our Victorie. Well," the blonde sighed. "I zink she wants to make 'er own way in ze world, not ride on our coattails."
Hermione waivered, listening to the soothing voice of her wife, lost in thought.
Fleur continued, thoughtfully. "Frankly, I cannot zink of someone better to guide 'er, and teach 'er to be strong, and to be seen az more zan a pretty face….. zan Regina, non? Eet's perfect, really, Ma Belle! She would never listen to us…and you know eet."
Hermione frowned.
"She is a rather headstrong little …" Hermione's voice trailed off, looking at her daughter talking animatedly to her housemates, a genuine grin on her face. She looked...comfortable. It was hard to deny that fact. "Well, I guess that dooms her and Teddy's budding romance…"
Fleur chuckled. "Oh, 'ermione…'ave you forgotten? Ze head of Slytherin is married to ze head of 'ufflepuff! Ze times, zey are changing, ma Belle."
Hermione huffed, glaring at Regina.
Regina looked over, sympathetically. "Hermione," she said gently. "You know how much I adore your daughter."
Hermione ground her teeth, in response.
Regina continued. "Victoire's like the daughter I never had…you know that." The Slytherin Head's tone was utterly sincere. "I promise you and Fleur...I'll take good care of her."
"I know, I know…" Hermione's chin jutted out, and she pointed at the Evil Queen. "You!" She scowled. "Just….you don't talk to me…for like, a full three weeks, understood?"
Regina laughed. "Understood, dear."
XOXOXXOXO
They finally reached the end of the first year line, with Lily Luna Potter the final first year student left getting to be sorted. She paused, and turned back to her cousin, a look of panic on her face.
"Henry?" She said, her voice small.
"Yeah, Lil?"
Her eyes looked frightened. "Henry…what if I don't get sorted, into Gryffindor?"
"Oh, please!" He laughed. "Look!" He pointed over toward the racous Gryiffindor table, banging their plates with spoons chanting her name in anticipation, "Your older brothers already made a space for you, at their table."
She glanced over, seeing he was telling the truth, and swallowed. She turned back to the transfer student. "I'm serious, Henry. I don't….I don't think…."
He stepped forward and grabbed her hand, sensing her distress. He looked her in the eye, and quietly he spoke.
"It's okay, Lily. Really, it is. Maybe you'll be sorted into Gryffindor, and maybe you won't. What does it matter, anyway?"
She looked at him, pleading. "I'll be the first Weasley or Potter in five generations that wasn't a Gryffindor!"
He grinned. "Then you'll be a trailblazer, Lil, and how much fun will that be? And you know what the best part will be?"
"What?" She replied, feeling a little better.
He whispered, "No hand me downs! New ties."
"Oh!" She grinned. "You're awesome, Henry."
He shrugged. "Eh. Go get 'em, trailblazer."
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
In her defense, Ginny took it infinitely better than Hermione.
When her youngest child, Lily Luna Potter, the fifth generation Weasley, sat under the hat, and took her turn to be sorted, the Gryffindor table stood up, cheering. Hermione and Ginny exchanged a knowing look.
"RAVENCLAW!"
When she was ultimately sorted into Ravenclaw, Ginny let out a quiet, "Well, how 'bout that?" into the mostly stunned silent Great Hall. Ginny's middle child, Albus, however, did not fare so well. Jumping to his feet, he shouted, "What the fuck?" and immediately slapped a hand over his mouth, looking nervously at the head table.
His mother deducted 50 points on the spot from Gryffindor.
"But mom!" He protested, pointing at his sister, as walked over and made her way towards Ravenclaw's table, and the encouraging, bright faces adorned in blue and silver ties awaiting her.
"Albus!" Ginny admonished loudly. "Don't 'but Mom' me! The sorting hat doesn't make mistakes!"
"Well put, Coach Granger," the Headmistress concurred.
"-But, Maaa!"
Ginny huffed, annoyed. "C'mon, Albus! We covered this!" The red head flung her arm out, explaining, "You know Lily….she's like, way smarter than all of us in our family, put together! Bloody hell, if I hadn't been there at her birth, I would have sworn she was, like, Hermione's love child!"
The crowd broke out into laughter.
Minerva groaned. "Slightly less articulate of an argument, Coach Potter."
Ginny looked at her boss, annoyed. "Oh, c'mon, Headmistress! You know you thought the same thing! You know for a fact if it weren't for the Golden Girl," she gestured at Hermione, "we Gryffindor's would have had the lowest GPA in the school!"
"Perhaps, but only because you all were busy saving the wizarding world, dear," Minerva offered gently.
"Maybe," Ginny crossed her arms across her chest. "But so were the Ravenclaws, the Hufflepuffs, and even the Slytherins." Ginny said. "Look," she turned towards the Gryffindor table. "I say, she's-Lily-is where she belongs. You gits need to be happy for your sister," she said pointing at James and Albus, "... no matter how stupid the color blue is!"
"Hey!" Fleur said, playfully.
The hall erupted in laughter.
Minerva finally restored order. "Okay, after Coach Potter's colorful entreaty, I dare say, we shall continue, and finish this rather memorable sorting ceremony!" She looked down at the remaining students, with a smile. "To continue, we will sort the remaining ten transfer students."
She looked at the Head Table, with pursed lips. "But before we continue, I must deduct an additional 40 points from Gryffindor, for Professor Weasl- I mean, Professor Potter's rather colorful use of language."
Hermione groaned, along with the rest of her table.
"….however," the Headmistress continued, "I am also adding 100 points awarded to Gryffindor, for Professor Potter's unique brand of helping everyone keep thing in perspective." She looked at Ginny proudly, before continuing, "It takes a strong, caring person to admit the right thing for one's own children and their students in general…especially if it's not what you personally may want for them."
Still looking at Ginny, the woman in question finally smiled sheepishly.
With a nod, the Headmistress continued. "Matthew Slavenick, transfer from Durmstrang Institute."
The doughy blonde boy stepped forward, and after a time a few moments of deliberation by the hat, he was placed into Slytherin House. Two more transfers were placed, after him, both to Hufflepuff. It had grown late in the afternoon when the Headmistress finally called out the second-to-last name.
"Henry Swan-Mills, transfer from the Salem Institute."
The room gasped, every head straining to see the transfer from the American school of magic.
It was him... Henry Swan-Mills, the famous offspring, born of true love, between the Savior and the Evil Queen. The crown prince, heir apparent to the merged kingdoms, who would ultimately become ruler of vast lands. It had not escaped anyone's notice, either, that he was seemly now a member of the Black- Delacour- Weasley- Potter mafia amalgam.
A legitimate cousin, as Apolline had spent hours upon hours researching, and was able to prove that Snow and Emma had come from an offshoot of a migrating colony of Delacours to the new world.
"She doesn't take to new people often," Narcissa explained to an oddly flattered Emma, "so somehow, she's going to prove that you're family, to justify actually liking you two, and your son."
So it was quasi-legitimate, Henry was a cousin, 7th removed.
And now, his 7th removed cousins were boisterous in their support for him. Victorie was whistling, Lily Luna was clapping, Teddy was making a strange hooting noise, and Albus and James were doing some weird chanting thing.
"Where do you think he's going to be placed, Miss?" U.N. Asked Andromeda, watching the crowd, nervously.
"Well," she whispered back to him in a conspiratorial tone, "...if the kid has any sense, I'd say back to the Salem Institute."
"Agreed." He grinned, propping up on her lap in order to see better.
XOXOXOXXOXOXOXO
Henry Swan-Mills swallowed nervously, and stepped forward. As he sat in the stool, he deliberately did not look at either one of his mothers, as he felt the worn brown hat being placed on his head. He held his breath, and listened to the hat, in anticipation.
He didn't wait for long.
"Henry Swan-Mills, oh ho! I've been waiting for you, lad. Let's see here…..Hmm…difficult. Very difficult…where to put you? Where, indeed! Courage aplenty, and a thirst to prove yourself. Not a bad mind, either…"
At the head table, Regina Swan-Mills muttered, quietly, to herself. "Slytherin. Slytherin. Please…let it be Slytherin…."
The sorting hat continued its pondering.
"Cunning, indeed, and ambitious... like one of your famous mothers…."
The hat seemed to be lost in thought.
Mirroring the tension at the other end of the head table, Henry's other mother agonized in concert with her wife. Emma Swan-Mills closed her eyes, mouthing her own silent prayer. "Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff. C'mon, hat. Do this, please….Hufflepuff!"
Inside the hat, Henry was oblivious to the silent prayer of both of his famous parents. He heard the hat muse again.
"But...young man, you are loyal to a fault, and dedicated to the truth, just like your other famous mother….hmm. Quite a conundrum, lad!"
He waited, holding his breath. He didn't realize the entire hall was also collectively holding their respective breaths, as well.
The hat mused, "So...the house of ambition and strong leaders, or the house of loyalty and fair play?"
The onlookers were not privy to the prolonged debate the hat was having with itself. The delay seemed to go on and on, and Regina and Emma were both starting to look ill. Fleur, however, actually did become ill, again; she excused herself to go throw up.
When Fleur returned, to her surprise, Henry still had yet to be finally sorted. "Mon Dieu!" She exclaimed. "Iz ze poor boy not yet sorted?" she asked, aloud.
"Il s'agit ridiculous!" Gaby complained to Hermione and Fleur. "What'z taking so long?" Gaby frowned. "I zink ze sorting 'at 'as entered into an inappropriate relationship wiz Monsieur 'enry Swan-Mills!" She huffed impatiently.
Hermione nodded, to her friend. "I have to say, this is probably the longest I've ever seen the hat debate," she offered.
Inside the hat, there was clear vexation, when finally the hat went silent. After a beat, Henry broke the silence.
He asked, "Mr. Hat?" the transfer said, uncertainly. "Uh…you still there, sir?"
"I am." He acknowledged, with a sigh. "Mr. Swan-Mills, I keep returning to a single thing."
"That being…?"
"You rushed off, as a young boy, into the bowels of one of the largest city's in America, in order to find a mother you never knew...for the purposes of breaking an ancient curse that only YOU believed in."
"Er, yes?"
"Your mother didn't believe you. No one believed you. But ultimately, you were right, weren't you?"
Henry merely nodded.
"My boy, that was both incredibly stupid, and incredibly brave. My boy, I'm sure….better be…"
Out loud, the hat yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!"
The deafening whoops and cheers of the entire hall, glad it was finally over, and the eventually hollers of the shocked Gryffindors, when they finally realized what happened, rang throughout the hall. Albus and James easily cheered loudest of all.
Albus motioned Henry over, to the space he and James had saved, and he plopped down, grinning at his friends.
"Well, cripes, Princely!" Albus said with a grin, nudging Henry, playfully. "That was a surprise."
"Eh, I guess," Henry shrugged. "So, Albs, when are we gonna eat? I'm starving!"
"No kidding!" James interjected, slapping Henry on the back. "Welcome, cuz! Grab the turkey plate before Longbottom Jr. gets his hands on it. The kids a vacuum cleaner when it comes to meat!"
Henry nodded, "thanks."
"No prob, mate," James winked.
Henry was intentionally ignoring the head table, and the three mouths unabashedly hanging open. Both of his mothers were taking turns staring at him, then at each other, shocked. The third mouth gaping open was Henry's new Head of House, who recovered faster than either one of his mother's.
Swallowing, and composing herself, Hermione looked over and gave a nervous glance towards the Evil Queen. "Regina…" she began, gently.
Regina whipped her head around, giving Hermione a death glare arising deep from within her entire being.
"Shut it, Madame Delacour," the Evil Queen hissed. Looking forward with a neutral expression, she muttered, "...and our little arrangement? Make it six weeks."
"Done." Hermione agreed, nodding.
Regina and Emma remained in stunned silence, while Fleur and Hermione exchanged nervous looks at one another.
Fed up, the red head coach blurted out, "Oh, for fuck's sake!" Ginny said, leaning forward, looking at Regina and Hermione, while rolling her eyes. "You really need to learn from someone more enlightened…like me." When the two finally glanced up, looking at her, Ginny grinned. "Watch this," she instructed. Waiving her hand, she yelled, "Hey, Delacour!"
Seven different heads whipped around, at various positions in the great hall.
"Merlin's beard!" Neville said, flabbergasted. "We really need to work on the Delacour nepotism, at this school!"
"I meant Phlegm!" Ginny laughed. "Phlegm Delacour, you nepotistic gits!"
Fleur looked at her, calmly. "Yes, Professor Weasel?"
Ginny nodded. "Look...I know you're going to do right by Lily. She's lucky to have you…and she's where she belongs."
"I couldn't agree more, Madame. Zank you."
"See? Enlightened!" She looked back at Regina and Hermione, shrugging.
"Enlightened?" snorted Hermione. "More like...repeated head traumas." Hermione replied, causing Regina to chuckle.
"Whatever! All I'm sayin' is look and learn, bitches. Look and learn…." Ginny proclaimed.
Regina arched an eyebrow at Hermione. "Is your…. friend... and fellow Gryffindor," she said, biting the word out, "...always so …eloquent, Hermione?"
The Golden Girl rolled her eyes, in response. She looked at Regina, annoyed. "She's your friend, too, Professor Swan-Mills, as memory serves," Hermione nodded. "...and, to answer your question: yes. Always that eloquent, your evilness, always. But there's usually more alcohol involved, frankly."
"Hmm," Regina scowled. "I imagine I will have to do a thorough Gryffindor deprogramming every summer, I suspect." She looked up. "No offense, Minerva."
"Oh, none taken, your majesty," Minerva said, in amused reply.
XOXOXOXOXOX
Henry Swan-Mills was blissfully oblivious to all of the goings on at the head table, once he finally stuffed his belly full of some food to rival even his mother's cooking. (Regina's, of course; not Emma's.) Finally full, he busied himself trying to catch the eye of his redheaded cousin, over at the Ravenclaw table, embroiled in some debate with her fellow housemates.
Eventually, Lily looked up, and caught his eye. She grinned, enormously, and gave him a knowing wink with a thumbs up.
Henry grinned back, nodding his head.
The exchange was noticed by said redhead's big brother. "Hey!" Albus said, narrowing his eyes at Henry. "You sweet on my sister, or something?" He asked.
Henry shrugged. "Eh…well, I guess I've always liked women who were trailblazers, I suppose…that's all."
Albus eyed him warily, then nodded, finally, as he handed his housemate a chocolate croissant that he was able to rescue from Neville's oldest son's grip. "As much as she bugs me, I'm telling you now...don't think she's, well, you know...I mean. Right. I'm just saying, you better respect her."
"Duh," Henry answered. "Who are you telling? You know who my moms are, right?"
"Duh, back, spaz!" Albus replied. His eyes were serious. "She's my little sister."
"Who can take care of herself, thank you."
Albus finally handed over the embargoed croissant, which Henry took gratefully, and bit into the chocolate confection, in delight. Albus seemed placated, and felt he had done his brotherly duty. Resolved, they went back to talking about Henry's new Xbox, which Albus loved.
After a time, Henry finally risked looking up at the head table.
He needn't have worried; he was no longer the primary focus of his two mothers. He watched, amused, as Emma, Neville, Aunt Narcissa, and Aunt Ginny were laughing at some joke amongst themselves regarding Emma and Ginny comparing scars; Aunt Fleur appeared to be refereeing a thumb wrestling match between Aunt Hermione and his mother, Regina, that seemed to be pretty evenly matched with magic sparking all over the table; and finally, Aunt Gaby was now sitting on Aunt Andy's lap, in addition to the little white house elf, who was grinning broadly at both of them. All three were laughing, enjoying lap time profusely.
He turned back to Albus and James, laughing at their telling, with mouths stuffed full of bread pudding, of the dumbest knock knock joke ever.
XOXOXOXOOXOX
Hermione, having finally declared a draw in thumb wrestling with the Head of Slytherin House-at the insistance of the Headmistress-now sat, peacefully, her wife absentmindedly tracing small circles across the back of her hand.
She looked out to the Great Hall; her eyes first went to her happy daughter, and Hermione let a wisp of a smile cross her face.
Victoire.
A Slytherin.
Hermione turned to her spouse. "You don't think the rest of them, Fleur...uh, well...you know?" Hermione asked nerviously.
Fleur cocked an amused eyebrow. "By 'zem,' are you referring to ze rest of our litter, Belle?"
Hermione blushed.
"Well, maybe. I mean, is it so wrong to hope one of them ends up a bloody Gryffindor?" As an afterthought, she added, "But I suppose Ravenclaw would be acceptable, as well."
Fleur was far from insulted. "Oh, dear. Eef zat's what you're banking on, mon crazy belle...I am afraid you are setting yourself up for ze disappointment, non?" She looked at the Head of Gryffindor, meaningfully. "I mean, we may 'ave one who wants to attend Beauxbatons...or Drumstrang! Or one who dozzen't even want to go to a magical school!" Her expression was serious. "And frankly, Robillard 'as yet to show any magical abilities at all..."
"Posh!" Hermione scoffed. "He's fifteen months, Fleur! Cut him some slack!"
"I'm just saying...zings may not always go ze way you want for your children, but 'opefully, zey go ze way zey should, oui? I mean, really...eef you're honest, in zinking back to your own sorting...did you really expect to go where you did? Waz eet not just a leetle bit of ze suprise?"
Hermione reflected back, lo those many years ago, to a time when she had been in her daughter's very shoes...
XOXOXOXX
Hermione gulped.
The Sorting Hat and she were having a...well, not a real disagreement, in the true sense of the word; when her time came, she had marched proudly under the hat, and defiantly jutted out her chin. She had just had her first taste of the disagreeable word "Mudblood," courtesy of none other than Draco Malfoy, a boy she would ironically later claim as one of her best friends and brother, as adults. She felt all out of sorts, and she had a small fear that once under the hat, he could possibly declare her unfit for Hogwarts, period.
But then, she took a calming breath. This was school, after all! Education.
The feisty eleven year old was in her element, blood status be damned. It wouldn't be the first time people resented her...and she was confident she could rise to the top of the class here, just as she had in the muggle world, as well. Plus, she loved the smell of fresh parchment and ink so much better than #2 pencils and notebook paper! It was rather disturbing, actually, how much she enjoyed the smell.
She could do this.
But then, the hat paused. The hat rumbled around at first, muttering to itself. It declared her expansive intelligence made her well suited for Ravenclaw; but something niggled at the bushy haired brunette. It was then that their "disagreement" blossomed.
Something had sparked in her, at the discordant treatment she got simply from her birth status, here; it gave birth to a desire to "show them" in a bigger way, somehow. She developed the discontent with her own personal status quo, that day. Despite the fact she found that Harry Potter kid and the annoying red headed shadow with him...Ron, was it? She knew they were destined for adventures, somehow, and they had ended up over in Gryffindor. She ached in her heart, for just a moment, not to be just the "smart" one; out of nowhere, Hermione wanted to be the "brave" one, too.
Smart and brave.
The hat chucked, listening to her self-debate. "Oh, ho? You see a greater challenge in becoming bold and courageous?"
"Well, yes, Mr. Hat. I've always been smart-no offense-but I want to be more. I want to push myself to be...more. More than just...book learned."
"You know what that means, then, Miss?"
She swallowed. "I think I do, Sir."
"Okay then, if you're sure."
The hat finally burst out with it's proclamation, in a booming voice, speaking out loud to the Hall:
"Ah, right, then. Hmm, right. Okay. GRYFFINDOR!"
XOXOXOXOXOXXX
Professor Hermione Delacour had a far-away smile, ghosting at her lips, thoughts of the ghosts of this hall in what would be the start of the happy times of her education at Hogwarts. She was completely zoned out.
"Hey, Fleur!" Regina tapped the blonde bluntly, with her pointer finger. "Your wife has either been cursed or is potentially hypoglycemic...either way, I think it's time for your rainbow kisses and unicorn stickers, dear," Regina gave a devilish grin. "Or, of course...there's always...true love's kiss."
She gave Fleur a knowing wink, to which Fleur flushed, immediately.
"Holy Merlin, NO!" A voice screeched out, adjacent to the former Evil Queen and the Beauxbatons' alum, only partially recognizable as that of the desperate voice of Ginny Weasley Potter. "Please, no, Regina! Do not further encourage any more sucking face between those two freakishly co-dependent women!" Ginny let out a melodramatic sigh. "My eyeballs have only recently grown back from their last Rendez-vous with destiny, so to speak!"
"Oh, hush, Potter!" Regina giggled. "I am merely encouraging Magic."
The red head looked skeptical, giving her the stink eye. "How you figure, your Majesty?"
Regina pulled herself up, regaling the table, opening her mouth to offer her wisdom, "Because my dear Mrs. Potter, Love, true love is magic-"
And was promptly joined by the chorus of voices from Emma, Fleur, Gaby and Andy from across the table, and Narcissa, as they all chimed in, "-and not just any magic, but the most powerful magic of all!"
Regina looked around the giggling table, unamused. "So...I may have mentioned that, before?"
"Once or twice, Gina," smiled Emma, as she leaned across the table to give Regina's hand an affectionate squeeze. "But I love it, every time."
The voices seemed to have snapped Hermione out of her hypnotic daze. "Wha-what? What's this about magic?"
"Nozzing, dear," Fleur whispered, softly. "Regina waz just reminding us zat true love, eet's ze most powerful magic of all."
Hermione rubbed her eyes. "What, again?"
Regina looked up, with mock fury. "Granger, may I remind you, witch? Don't piss off the other witch that holds the ovaries of your first born in her hands!" She made a crushing gesture with her fist, and grinned.
"Oh, Regina...you're my favorite evil queen, you know that?" Hermione laughed. Then Regina was silenced, when Hermione quickly leaned across the chair and her fellow brunette a kiss on the temple. Whispering softly so only the Slytherin could hear, Hermione spoke. "The hat did get it right," she said, quietly.
"I know," Regina nodded, voice completely sincere. "Have faith in fate, Hermione. Merlin knows, if I can, anyone can."
"I do. I believe in fate, Regina." She leaned back, upright, giving a smile to her curious wife, in reassurance. "I have to."
"Pourquoi dites-vous cela?" Fleur asked, head tilted.
"Parce-que," Hermione began, cheekily, "Or as we say in the Eng-lay, because what else but fate could take a lonely muggleborn girl and suck her up, into this strange world, and give her the best friends she would ever know? Then, gift her with the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth, plus her sister, as a needed best friend who didn't judge her once?"
"I judged you plenty, 'ermione!" Gaby teased. "Remember when you tried to wear black socks wiz your tennis shoes?"
Hermione laughed, continuing. "Then, her former mentor and academic hero up and offers her a job that she would actually love? Then, the rare Veela bonding, happens... and...well, uh...then four healthy children-"
"Six, actually," Narcissa interjected. "I sense...twins." Then with an apologetic look to Fleur, she mouthed, "Sorry."
Hermione continued, grinning. "...and then when my cup was full? My former enemies became my family. My family, Regina!"
"Actually, that's my line," Regina smirked.
"Well, it's a good one, then. And it's true." Hermione nodded. "Family. Then, thorough the chance of fate of doing something nice for my family," she gave a meaningful look to Cissy, "We picked up yet more family!" She looked at Emma and Regina, with warm affection.
They all looked at one another, thinking of the journey, and Lene's ridiculous napkin collage wedding gift.
"Then, you reproduced like rabbits, the lot of you!" Neville offered, helpfully, to which Ginny swatted him...again.
"Arse!" Ginny huffed. "Stop it. 'Mione's having a moment...hush it!"
"Hey...you were the puppy, Weasley, not me."
"My point is..." Hermione interjected, speaking over her fellow Gryffindors, "For the lonely, know-it-all girl from a very small family of three in suburban England, who didn't really know what it was like to have family...or friends...or even affection, really," she swallowed. "My life has changed, so much. So very, very much...and I'm just...happy. Thank you."
The Head Table was quiet.
"Well said, as always, Hermione," Minerva grinned, before pointing out some 4th years to Flitch, with a box of Weasley's Warts in hand.
Fleur and Emma grimaced, recognizing their house colors represented in the boys' robes. Emma and Fleur then exchanged a knowing look, before Emma blurted out, "Hey! Pregnancy isn't going to make you soft, or anything? Is it...ol' Prisoners-No-More?"
Fleur cracked the knuckles on both hands, then moved her head left to right, cracking her neck loudly, and stretched her arms. She stood up, quickly removing her wand from her Ministry-issue boot holster she still managed to retain.
With a grin to her fellow blond Auror, she winked. "Not even a leetle beety bit, Madame Swan-Mills!"
"Hell, yeah!" Emma grinned back, rising with her wand in hand, as well. She moved next to Fleur, and the two former Aurors exchanged a fist bump, grinning like idiots. "Well, then...let's go do this, Delacour!"
"Apres-vous, Emma," Fleur grinned, fire in her eyes. As the two similarly appearing blondes made their way down the stairs, both with wands aloft, Fleur looked back at Minerva with a wild grin. "Don't worry, 'eadmistress," she explained, pointing between herself and the Head of Hufflepuff. "We got zis!"
"That's what I'm afraid of, Professor," mused the Headmistress. "Remember, you may not dismember the students!"
Without looking back, Emma hollered back their reply, waving her wand hand over her shoulder, "In the first semester! Yeah, yeah...we got it, Ma'am!"
Fleur chuckled, watching the student's eyes go wide as she and Emma marched past the long tables, in lock step, headed towards the miscreants; she gave her fellow blonde a knowing grin.
Hermione watched the two, shaking her head, before a voice spoke next to her. "So this is what your happy ending looks like, Hermione?" Narcissa asked, sliding into Fleur's vacated seat, as she patted Hermione's shoulder. They both watched as Emma and Fleur quickly "took care of business," admiring the two former aurors exit the Great Hall, Fleur carrying three 4th year boys, upside down, while Emma toted the other two in one hand.
Both Victoire and Henry's heads wheeled up, looking towards the Head Table at their remaining mothers, in disbelief. Their remaining mothers, however, merely grinned and waved back, ignoring their wide eyes. After waving at her eldest daughter, Hermione chuckled, in response answering the Healer. "While it's certainly unexpected, Cissy...I couldn't have imagined anything better, really."
Narcissa Black Delacour grinned. "Me, either, dear. Me either."
Hermione gazed around the Great Hall, soaking in the realization that "it" had finally arrived, appreciating what it actually was, in that moment.
Her own happy ending.
THE END.
(For reals. We hope your happy ending is around the corner, as well.)